by Marian Gray
I shook my head. My ashy hair pattered against my cheeks.
A deep breathed swam in through her nostrils, taking her ire with it. “And you?” Her attention whipped to Uncle Hank. Once she had him locked in her gaze, her eyes transformed to slits.
“Me?” He pressed a large hand to his chest and jaw dropped, wide with bewilderment.
“I’m not falling for this act.” Her tone was as sharp as a knife. “None of this would have happened without your intervention.”
“Kara.” Aunt Margot’s voice straightened to a serious note. “I assure you that neither Hank nor I had anything to do with this.”
“Well, Margot, I find that a little hard to believe at the moment.”
“You know,” Uncle Hank began, “if you’d calm down for one hot second, I might be able to provide an explanation.”
My mother’s slender arms crossed in front of her chest as she leaned back in her chair. “I’m all ears.”
I sat up, eager to hear whatever was about to spill from his mouth.
He licked his lips as trepidation glistened across his forehead. “Kim’s not—” He paused.
“Kim’s not what?”
“Do you remember the day Kim got her scar?”
My eyes fell on the small red starbursts that marred my forearm.
“Of course.”
Uncle Hank reached for his coffee cup and took a sip before continuing, “While I didn’t lie, I also didn’t tell you the full truth.”
“What do you mean?” My mother whispered. I couldn’t tell from her voice if she was afraid or confused.
“Those scars are due to my mother’s wand rejecting her, but it wouldn’t have had any reason to reject her, unless it sensed something.”
“Like what?” I chimed in.
My mother shot me a glare, demanding silence.
Uncle Hank turned towards me. “Something that’s been in our blood for a very long time and was believed to have been lost.”
“No.” My mother shook her head in denial. “It’s not possible.”
“But it appears we were all wrong in assuming that I was the last one.” His large brown eyes twinkled.
“Hank, stop.” A growl grew in her voice, mimicking that of a mother bear protecting her cub.
“What are you talking about?” I leaned forward, raveled in his words.
“You’re to carry on the dynasty, Kim—a true Blackwood.” Our last name drummed out of his mouth with a boost of pride. “A witch.”
Chapter Three
“Hello, Kim,” Mrs. Peterson sang in her sweet Virginian accent. “Here for James?” A green dress draped across her small frame and tied in at her waist to accent both her hips and bust.
“Hi.” I shot her a meek smile. “Yes, is he around?”
“Come on in.” She stepped aside, holding the screen door wide open. “He’s out back meddlin’ in the garden.”
“The garden?” It was the last place I expected to find him.
“I am just as baffled.” The southern belle sighed as she closed the front door behind us. “Tell him I said he has a few hours before his dad gets home and still needs to sweep the carport.”
“I will.” My feet carried me across the living room at a quick pace. I tried to slow my steps as to not alarm Mrs. Peterson, but excitement and anxiety threatened to explode out of me.
The sliding glass door opened and shut with a high-pitched squeal, sending me into a damp backyard airbrushed with mist. Just the top of James’ head was visible over the rose bushes. He was crouched in the thicket with his gaze focused downward.
“James,” I called out as I neared. My legs strode across the soft ground, determined.
His lanky frame popped up from the greenery. “Kim?” A quick hand shot to his brown shaggy hair and combed it away from his face. “What are you doin’ here?”
“I have something I need to tell you,” I announced as I approached. “You won’t believe this.”
“What is it?” He took a step forward, concern painted across his face.
My feet didn’t stop until I stood beside the rosebuds. I didn’t want to risk another pair of ears catching what I had to say. “I have just found out the most ludicrous thing ever.”
“Ludicrous? That’s not a word you hear every day.”
I ignored his attempt to lighten the mood. “Now, what I’m about to tell you has to stay between us.”
“All right.” He nodded. His voice wasn’t as regional as his mother’s but there was still Virginian flavor to his speech.
“No. Promise me.”
His eyes shifted, nervous. “I promise.”
I took a deep breath, unsure of how to even begin. My jaw opened and closed, my tongue too scared to move. The longer the confession boiled in my head, the more ridiculous it all sounded. But if there was one person in this world who wouldn’t think I was mental, it was James.
“Well?” His weight shifted from one foot to the other.
“I’m a witch,” I blurted.
His eyebrows lifted to his hairline and head leaned toward me. “Excuse me?”
“My uncle just told me I’m a witch.”
His toe kicked at the ground. “How does he figure that?”
“You remember that one day when we were younger and playing at my house—we got into the basement and found that ornate chest with a decorative stick inside that belonged to my great grandmother.”
“The wand. Yeah, I remember. That’s the day you got those.” He pointed to my arm to the dabs of light blush on my olive skin.
“And that’s when my uncle knew.”
“What?” He tilted his head. “When the thing shot off like it was the fourth of July he knew you were a witch?”
“Yes.” I nodded as a grin spread across my face. “It did that because it was rejecting me in reaction to the magic it sensed inside of me. My uncle recognized it right away but didn’t tell my mother.”
“Why not?”
I gave him a knowing look. After eighteen years of friendship, James was well acquainted with my mother’s obsessive authority.
He nodded. “So, how do you feel about all of this?”
“I don’t know.” I hadn’t taken the time to process it. “The same as I did before? If anything, it’s a relief. How many times did my mother try to change the story of my scarring? If it weren’t for you, I’m sure she would have convinced me it was a fireworks incident. But now she can’t deny it anymore. She can’t make me feel like I’m crazy.”
James pursed his lips. “It’s no secret I’m not a fan of your momma’s, but if this whole witch thing is what it’s going to take to make you stand up for yourself, then it’s the best news I’ve ever heard.” He ran his hand through his hair once more. The roots had a light grease shine. “And frankly I’m stunned—a witch, huh? What a pair we are.”
“A witch,” I repeated, allowing the truth to wash over me. “And it’s not just me either.”
“What do you mean?” His eyes lit up as the light bulb clicked on in his brain. “Your great grandmother?”
“Yes and my Uncle Hank and Aunt Margot.”
“Uncle Hank is a witch?” His jaw dropped.
“Well, a wizard,” I corrected. “I assume that’s why he recognized what the wand was doing.”
“So then it’s a family thing?”
I shrugged. It was something I was just beginning to explore myself. “I believe so.”
“Do you think mine’s a family thing too?”
“Possibly.” I scratched the back of my head. “Yours is… different though.”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t need a wand. You don’t learn spells. You just do it.”
“And y'all need those things?”
“Judging by my great grandmother’s wand, I think so.”
James sighed. The air around him filled with disappointment.
“You’ll know one day,” I told him despite being just as unsure of this fact
as he was. “Just like I found out. You will too.”
He nodded, accepting the comfort. He took another breath and eyes brightened. “A witch, huh?”
“A witch.” My lips spread into a smirk.
“Am I supposed to congratulate you?” There was a vast amount of sincerity in his voice.
“I don’t know.”
He took a step toward me, parting the rose bushes with his dirt-stained hands. When he neared, he wrapped two thin arms around me. “Congratulations, Kim! I am so happy for you! I hope this revelation helps you further figure out who you are and where you come from, despite your mother’s blatant attempts to cover everythin’ up.”
I sunk into my best friends hug. “And there’s something more.”
“Oh?” He stepped back.
“I got accepted into a university.”
His eyes opened wide. “You did? You told me you didn’t want to go to any of ‘em ‘cause your momma picked ‘em all.”
“Well, I didn’t apply to this one, but I still got accepted. That’s how this whole slew of secrets got dragged out. I received an acceptance letter to a school that specializes in magic.”
His mouth opened wide in shock. “Those exist?” There was a hint of excitement in his voice. “How do I get in?”
“I don’t know if you can.”
“Oh.” His shoulders drooped.
“It’s only for witches and wizards.”
“And we don’t know what I am,” he whispered, finishing my thought. My heart broke for him. “Wouldn’t be the first time I don’t belong.”
“That’s not what I—”
“Just don’t.” He held up a hand to silence me. “Are you goin’ to go?”
“No.”
“What? Why not? This is like a dream come true.”
“For you maybe.”
His narrow face scrunched in thought. “And why not for you? You don’t want to learn how to use your magic?”
“It’s not that. It just feels so... impossible. It’s as though life is dangling it in front of my face while laughing because it knows I can’t reach it. I want to go, but she’ll never let me. You know my mother. It’s not one of the universities that she selected.” I folded my arms across my chest.
“What will she do if you go?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Disown me.”
“Maybe that will do you some good.”
I rolled my eyes. “No. She’s a pain, but she’s still my mother.” I sighed in defeat. “She’s so against the idea, she won’t even let me consider it. She threw the acceptance letter in the trash before I even had a chance to read it.”
“Well, that’s the beauty of havin’ your own head to house your own thoughts—you don’t need someone else’s permission to think whatever you want to think or consider whatever you want to consider.”
“You know what I mean.”
His lips flat-lined to hide his frown. “So, then what are you goin’ to do to?”
“Stay here.” It’s not as though I ever had a choice. “Or go wherever I get in. I’ll probably end up at community college.”
A small smirk propped atop his lips. “It looks as though our lives have linked up once more.”
“What do you mean? Were you planning on going to community college?”
“Let’s be honest, I was kind of destined for it,” James confessed.
“That’s ridiculous to think.”
He slipped his hands in his jeans’ pockets and shrugged. “Plus, I just don’t feel like college is the right step for me.” The smile on his face widened. “But it’s not that big of a travesty, since I might have you by my side.”
“Do you know what you want to do at college?”
A goofy chuckle rolled out of his mouth. “Does it matter?”
“Yes, it does.” James had a terrible habit failing to plan for anything and then being sorely disappointed when things didn’t fall into place for him. I had a hunch that this would be no different. “What are you going to do at college?”
“Magic.” He threw open his arms.
I rolled my eyes. “James, no.”
“Shhh,” he hushed, ending the debate. “Come with me, I want to show you somethin’.” His fingers wrapped around my hand and tugged toward the rose garden.
“Show me something?” I tripped over my own feet. “In the garden?”
“Yes.” He dragged me to the center and crouched. “Get down here. Just in case my momma is watchin’.”
“Because this doesn’t look suspicious either,” I groaned as I shrank below the hedges.
“Now, I’ve been workin’ on this for the past week, and I think I finally have somethin’.” His hands hovered out in front of his chest. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. After a few long seconds, he released it.
There were no sparks or light or visible material the poured out from his fingers, but between his ten digits a red rose grew out of thin air. It floated in front of him, growing into a full flower. Once the last petal formed, the rolled blossom bent at the neck. The stem faded to a marbled emerald and coffee with crunchy leaves. It fell into his palms, exhausted and withered.
He opened his eyes and a sliver of defeat drifted across his gaze. “Well, I’m not quite there yet. But one day I’ll have a rose for you. One that’s healthy and won’t die.”
Chapter Four
Coach Braxton stood on the gym’s polished floor, staring at the conglomerate. Several other teachers and the head principal stood around him in an awkward huddle. He raised the mic to his mouth. “All right, let’s get started.” The student body settled at the beloved man’s command. “Since I’m the new vice principal, I have been given the wonderful task of reminding y'all how to act like proper human beings with manners at next week’s prom.” Hands joined in applause. “Yeah, we get it, y'all are excited. But I need y'all to be quiet so we can get through these following points.” He lifted a single sheet of paper to his eyes. “Item number one, dress code. Yes, we will be insistent on some type of standard for your clothing.”
I crossed my arms and sank in my seat. This wasn’t a lecture I needed to hear.
“Have you found a date yet?” James whispered.
“No.” No one had even asked me. I wasn’t sure if that was proof of my lack of friends or that I was simply unpleasant to be around. “Have you?”
“No.” He shook his head.
“Have you asked anyone?”
“No.”
“How do you expect to get a date if you don’t ask someone?”
James shrugged. “I assumed we’d go together like we did for all fthe other school dances.”
I shook my head. “I’m not going.”
“What?” He sat up. “Why not?”
I sighed, afraid to give him the reason.
“It’s because of her, ain’t it?”
“Yes.” I lowered my voice, fearing that another student would hear me. “She doesn’t want me to go, because she says everyone has sex afterward—and she doesn’t want me to have sex with anyone.”
James perked up from the word. “Sex, huh?” His lips puckered, and he nodded in approval. “Would you have sex with me afterward? If I were your date?”
I jabbed his arm with a playful punch. “I didn’t say I was going to sleep with my date. That’s just what my mother thinks.”
He shot me a devilish grin. “But this is the last dance of high school. You can’t miss it just ‘cause your momma’s afraid of you growin’ up.”
“Oh, well.” I shrugged. Out of all the things she disallowed, this one hurt the least. In fact, I don’t think it injured my hopes at all. I pretended to want to go in order to fit in with my peers. They already thought I was weird. If I had uttered a single word of disinterest, the student body would have shunned me.
“I know you’ve never been a fan of high school, but don’t be so nonchalant. Prom is somethin’ you gotta do. Talk to your mom again. Let her know I’ll be takin’ you and se
e if she changes her mind.”
I turned to him. “Why are you pushing this? You dislike this school more than I do.”
He shook his head and looked away. “Just forget about it then.” A disappointed sigh dotted the end of his sentence.
“All drinks brought into the hotel, will be checked.” Coach Braxton glanced up from the piece of paper. “y'all are legal adults or about to become legal adults. You’re not stupid. So please don’t act like it and try to sneak in alcohol. There will be police at the banquet room entrance, and you will be handed off to them should you bring in any illegal material.”
A student nearby scoffed as though the vice principal’s words were a challenge.
I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t better than my peers, but after four years, there was no denying that I was different. I think puberty never hit me as hard as it was supposed to. I thought about sex and wanted to party every now and then, but these weren’t all-consuming desires. On the weekends, I wasn’t barking at the door to be let out. I never felt the need to go wild and scream at the top of my lungs.
I glanced around the gymnasium at all the different faces. Anticipation filled most gazes. Others held desire, and some were rife with excitement. I longed to feel these things, to blend in with my peers and be another face in the crowd. But I lacked something that they all had. That’s what yanked me out of the flock.
An ominous knot wrapped around my chest and tightened. I didn’t know if I could do another four years of pretending to be like everyone else. And now that I had definitive proof that I was different, thanks to my uncle, it became even harder to force myself into the mold.
I swallowed hard. My hand dove into my backpack and slid out a plain lavender folder. With slow movements, as to not arouse anyone’s interest, I withdrew the acceptance letter from the plastic pocket. A dark brown coffee stain colored a corner, and a few wet grounds rolled off to hit the floor.
Perhaps I didn’t fit in because there wasn’t something wrong with me, but rather there was something wrong with where I was trying to place myself. You couldn’t stick a polar bear in Southeast Asia and expect it to survive with the sun bears.
