by Sarina Dorie
This was Eugene, yes, and there were plenty of people who spoke this way, but I wasn’t used to my mom talking like a hippie.
“Plants are my affinity,” she said. “Specifically oak.”
The wrinkles around her eyes disappeared under a luminescent glow. She turned her face up to the sun and let her bun loose. The auburn of her hair burned like fire in the light. Green vines wove through her hair. Leaves sprouted. She was radiant and beautiful. Dust motes twinkled around her. Or perhaps those weren’t dust motes, and this was her as I’d never seen her before.
This was too much to take in all at once. My knees turned to jelly, and I fell to the ground.
She kneeled beside me. “The Witchkin brought Missy to me to raise first. This was after your father and I couldn’t have children. It’s not uncommon. Most Witchkin can’t conceive. Even those who live in the Unseen Realm among the Fae have become infertile. I put myself on the adoption registry. Either Missy’s parents had died or her mother had dumped her somewhere after she was born, not knowing what she was. That’s one of the problems with those who aren’t aware they’re Witchkin. They produce babies who don’t look human the first couple days and Morties think they’re monsters. Witchkin think they’re monsters. But Missy wasn’t a monster. She was just a baby.” Her eyes filled with tears at the mention of Missy.
It was impossible for her to talk about my older sister and for me not to feel guilty. I couldn’t separate the memory of her death, and the tornado that had caused it, with my own doings that night. Missy and I had hated each other in that way siblings often did. We had argued during homecoming, and she’d tried to strangle me with magic. She’d played a prank on me only slightly less traumatic than something out of a Stephen King novel. Mom and Dad had told me I wasn’t to blame. No one could make a tornado happen.
Only, now I knew I was magic, and I had hurt people. It wasn’t my imagination as I had always hoped.
“I killed my sister,” I said.
“No. I’ve told you before it wasn’t your fault.” She squeezed me to her. “Missy was dabbling in dark magic. She was jealous. I could see the trouble brewing inside her. She intended something sinister, so I tried to keep the two of you apart. I cast wards of protection to keep you from harm—and from harming each other. I tried to suppress both of your magics so you wouldn’t use them on each other, but I’ve lived in the Morty world for years. My powers are weak. Even when I was at my strongest, I was a hedgewitch at best. A kitchen witch. An herbologist.
“The night of homecoming, something awakened inside you. You came into your own powers and your magic clashed with everyone else’s around you and it exploded. Somehow you intensified your own magic and everyone else’s. I know you would never try to hurt someone on purpose.” She sighed. “I only wish I could say the same about Missy. She did hurt you. I failed as your fairy godmother to keep you both safe.” Tears filled her eyes.
I’d never guessed she had blamed herself. I could only imagine how horrible it must have been to keep that shame inside herself with no one to tell. Actually, I did know what that guilt felt like.
“And Derrick?” I asked. “Baba Nata said his affinity was air.”
“Baba Nata?” Her brow furrowed. “You met her too? Did she try to use you?”
“Nah.” I waved her off with bravado I didn’t actually feel. “She sold me for thirty pieces of silver.”
She swallowed.
“It was a joke.” Obviously not a very funny one if neither of us were laughing. “She was your foster mother?”
“Yes, one of them.”
“And Derrick? Did my magic hurt him?”
“Your magic intensified his. I don’t know why. As I told you before, your magic is dangerous. I don’t understand how it works. The tornado—he did that to himself. Only, you helped bring it out of him. I tried to keep you away from each other. I didn’t know how your affinities would react together. I was afraid something might happen if the two of you used magic.”
I pulled away. “You should have told me.” I could have prevented that tornado. She could have prevented his disappearance. I’d hated myself, thinking I’d killed him.
“Oh, sweetie, I didn’t know that would happen. I tried to protect you from your magic, but teenage hormones are wild enough as it is. Adding magic complicates things. I never expected you’d break the protective wards I’d set up around you. I never expected Missy would try to hurt you.” She broke into sobs. “I’m sorry.”
I hugged her again, my anger dissipating. She had been trying to keep us all safe. My poor mom—my adopted mom—I corrected myself. It was hard to think of her as my fairy godmother.
She patted my shoulder, her nurturing touch soothing my sorrow. I wanted to comfort her for her loss, but she always managed to make me feel like the one being comforted instead. I thought of all the guilt that had been building up inside me for years. I hadn’t killed Missy. I hadn’t killed Derrick. If only I could have known this years ago.
There was one more death I had to ask about before my soul could rest. I was afraid to speak of him out loud. I didn’t want to be a magical murderess.
“And Dad?” I asked. Had I been responsible for his death?
“Drunk driver. That had nothing to do with magic.” She wiped her eyes. “If I had been born with half the power you girls possessed, I might have foreseen his death, prevented it. But prophesy was never my strong suit. I was better at growing medicinal herbs and using them to make potions.” Lucifer nudged himself between us and meowed. Mom sat down and stroked him between the ears. She gazed up at her oak tree, her eyes distant. “From a young age, Missy knew what she was and rebelled against it. She was very attuned with herself like that. I never worried about her having an interest in magic, since she had Morty interests like cheerleading and dating and wanting to be like everyone else. She was a typical human teenager with no room in her life for Witchkin concerns. She had no interest in witchcraft—and it didn’t matter if she had. She wasn’t the one descended from someone who had dabbled in dangerous magic.
“That’s what I’d been told, anyway.
“Only, I was wrong about Missy’s disinterest. I was too blind to see her jealousy of your natural powers. I didn’t know how far down the dark path she’d gone until she accidentally killed that cheerleader. I thought I could help her.”
I wasn’t so sure that death had been an accident. Missy had wanted her team to win at state. Then again, she’d moped around and acted ill afterward. Maybe she’d felt bad about it.
Mom patted my cheek. “You were different. The Witchkin adoption agency was very clear about how we were to raise you. They didn’t say who your mother was, or why it was so important you never come into your powers, but I had my suspicions. Everyone knew the cruelest and most notorious witch had died not long beforehand. If I was to raise you in this world, I had to keep you away from magic, to use electricity to ground you, and ensure your magic didn’t get out of hand and overpower you.”
Mom waved a hand at the powerlines in the distance over the houses two streets down. “I used to think it was such a blessing the way you and your sister were obsessed with computer gadgets. Electronics sapped your powers, and you would never attract the attention of any rogue Fae wanting to use you for your magic. At least, I thought it would sap your powers. Nothing worked the way it was supposed to with you.”
I drew away, staring into her anguished eyes. “But I’ve always wanted to have magic. You know that.” How could she have done this to me? My phone in my pocket pressed against my side. It didn’t feel like it was sucking away my magic. Wouldn’t it have stayed charged longer if it had?
“Oh, honey, you have to understand, the Fae are a dying race. Witchkin, our people, the descendants of Fae and Morties—we aren’t much better off than Fae. Anyone who wants to live in this world needs to blend in. It’s either that or be hunted like we were in the past. Magic doesn’t have a place in this wo
rld. It isn’t hard to pretend to be like everyone else.”
Maybe not hard for her. “I’ve never wanted to be in this world. I always wanted to go to that … other place you told me didn’t exist.” I had a name for it now. “The Unseen Realm.”
“I didn’t want people to punish you for your mother’s crimes. I didn’t want you to punish you for what she did. There was no reason for you to get caught up in their wars or their politics. The Fae Realm isn’t all glitter and Disney. There’s a reason Grimm’s Fairytales are dark.”
“And Dad agreed to this?” Dad and I had stayed up late watching Lord of the Rings marathons. He’d enjoyed it as much as I had. Surely, he wouldn’t give up magic and a world where such possibilities could exist.
“He was a Morty—a human. He didn’t know what you truly were.” Her smile was bittersweet. “He was the reason I decided to give up my powers. To become ordinary.”
Seeing the green glow of her skin and the vines growing in her hair, I knew she was hardly that.
I thought of Dad watching old reruns of Bewitched on Nick at Night. He’d loved the actress Elizabeth Montgomery in her role as Samantha. Whenever he complained about how annoying Darren was, my mom left the room. As a child, I never understood why Darren didn’t love Samantha as she was. Always he insisted she needed to act normal, that she had to become ordinary to fit in. He chastised her for using her powers.
Dad had always made light of it. “If your mother was a witch, I’d encourage her to use her magic. Especially after I melted that plastic cutting board on the stove the other night. Magic would come in handy to undo my blunderings in the kitchen.” He twitched his nose like Samantha when she cast a spell. “Abracadabra and my mess would disappear.”
Mom’s stance on the matter had remained unyielding. “Samantha took a vow to become ordinary. She needs to keep her world secret from humans. Yet every episode, it’s the same story—Samantha’s magic wreaks havoc on her husband’s life and his job. She endangers her world with exposure. She’s out of control. She’s selfish.”
Was that how Mom saw herself? Did she imagine she was like Samantha?
I squeezed her hand. “Dad wouldn’t have wanted you to give up your powers for him.”
“He didn’t know what I was. He couldn’t know. It would have put his life in jeopardy if he had.” She waved me off. “It was my choice, and I did it because I wanted to be with him. I wanted to be with a Morty.” She gazed up at the tree, blinking tears from her eyes.
It looked like we all wanted something we couldn’t have.
Pollen and dust floated around her, flashing red and gold as they caught the dying rays of sunset. Her hair burned as red as a flame, the green in her hair complementing her coloring. She was so beautiful. It felt right, her being out here in nature.
“Why don’t you go back to your people? Dad is… .”
“I know. He’s gone. But I still have you to take care of. I need to protect you, so the Fae won’t find you.” She took hold of my shoulders. “It’s been so hard with you, trying to help you fit into this world. If it isn’t one book or television show that’s sucked you into believing in wizards, it’s that Faerieworlds event or Burning Man or Oregon Country Fair you go to. Do you know how many other Witchkin are drawn to those events? It’s a hotspot for faeries, goblins, and powerful Witchkin who would like to lure you away into the Unseen Realm to use you. They want to claim you and steal you away as the Fae do in stories.” She placed her palm over my heart. “You have so much light inside you. I’m always afraid they’ll see how brightly your magic burns. That’s why you have to keep on using computers. Find some kind of career that’s safe, something that doesn’t set off your powers, and you’ll be able to fit in here.”
My heart sank. I still couldn’t make her understand. She was going to be so disappointed with me. My decision to join the Witchkin no longer felt as easy.
A cool breeze brushed against my face, sweeping back my hair.
“But don’t you see, Mom? I’ve never fit in. I never will. What if I don’t want to be a Morty? What if I want to be a witch? A Witchkin?”
She sighed in exasperation. “I was afraid you might say that.”
On Monday, I collected the mail from the box, sorting it into three piles: junk, mine and Mom’s. I stopped when I came to the envelope made of heavy cream-colored parchment. It was addressed to me in a swirling, cursive script.
I tore open the envelope. Inside was a letter written in reddish-brown ink. Oh my God! Was this blood? This was pretty serious stuff.
Miss Clarissa Lawrence,
On behalf of Womby’s Reform School for Wayward Witches, we thank you for taking the time to interview with our school. Our hiring committee was impressed by your extensive resume and talents. We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for our position as Arts and Crafts Teacher. We look forward to welcoming you as the newest member of our teaching staff for the upcoming school year.
If you accept our offer, you will be entitled to receive a starting salary comparable to $28,000 U.S. Dollars annually and a chance to further your education with supplementary magic classes. A list of benefits including room and board, the terms of the position, the start date, and other details are listed in the following pages. Please confirm your acceptance of this offer by signing the attached form.
Congratulations on your acceptance. We look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Headmaster Jebediah Ebenezer Bumblebub
I hadn’t sent in an application, and my resume was far from extensive. Twenty-eight thousand a year was thousands below what a first-year teacher earned in Eugene or Skinnersville, but generous for someone who hadn’t gotten her teaching license. There were benefits, room and board were covered, I got to teach art, and this salary was way more than I made as a roving artist at the Skinnersville Saturday Market.
Oh, and let’s see, what else? I would be at a magical school and learn how to control my powers. I would have a chance to fit in with people like me. I might be able to meet a Witchkin man and have a relationship without blowing anyone up.
I might find Derrick.
I snatched up a Sharpie from the junk drawer. I hesitated just above the signature line, thinking about all the things my mom—my fairy godmother—had told me, all the reasons she wanted to protect me from that other world. As always, her reasons came from a place of love, and it was hard to fault her on that. It didn’t change what I wanted, though. It didn’t change what I needed.
I scribbled my signature on the form, hoping that permanent ink was as binding as etching my name in blood.
Take that, Raven Court! I was about to fulfill my lifelong dream and become a witch. A new adventure lay ahead of me.
EPILOGUE
HOME SWEET HOME
The moment I signed the contract, the ground underneath my feet shifted. The kitchen table disappeared, and the diffused sunlight filtering in through the kitchen window grew brighter. I blinked at the brightness of the sunlight.
Before me towered a colossal castle like something out of a storybook for fairytales. Etched above the arched entrance were the words: Womby’s School for Wayward Witches.
I tentatively took the first step up toward the landing, afraid my foot might fall through the stone, that all of this would disappear, and I would discover I had been dreaming. My foot met solid stone.
I still wore my bunny slippers and pajamas. Not just any pajamas, but bubblegum pink Tinker Bell pajamas. I probably should have brushed my hair and put more formal clothes on before signing the contract. Deodorant might have been a nice touch too. I hadn’t realized I would be transported instantly.
“Welcome to your new home, partner,” the headmaster said, walking up from behind me and clapping me on the back. “According to my calculations, your adventure begins… .” He removed a pocket watch from his long gray robe. “Now.”
My new adventure while w
earing bunny slippers. Somehow, I should have expected I would never make an entrance like a normal witch. I laughed, overjoyed to be accepted into the school, pajamas and all.
THE END
Excerpt from the Sequel
Witches Gone Wicked
CHAPTER ONE
We’re Not in Kansas Anymore, Totoro
The moment I learned I was a powerful witch and destined for a life of magic was the best day of my life. Finally, I had my chance to learn to control my powers at Womby’s School for Wayward Witches.
Forget my dream of being a student at Hogwarts when I turned eleven. I was going to be an art teacher at a real magical high school. The administration didn’t even mind my lack of experience. I had thought that would be a problem since I hadn’t completed my student teaching and didn’t have an official teaching license.
Best of all, I would be reunited with my high school sweetheart, Derrick, now that I knew he was here in the Unseen Realm. We would live happily ever after.
Assuming I found him … and he didn’t hate me.
Cheerful afternoon sunlight filtered through the unshuttered windows of my very own kingdom a.k.a. classroom. It was an immense room with a high ceiling over gray basalt brick walls and beautiful hardwood floors that would make a historian drool. Someone had written: Welcome, Clarissa Lawrence on my chalkboard in elegant cursive.
My desk was made from scarred wood that looked as though it had been through battles of Witchkin past. I’d spent the morning scrubbing the walls and floor and wiping down tables and chairs with Lysol and bleach. At last I was ready to feng shui the furniture into a harmonizing environment for student learning and effective classroom management.
My favorite composition of tables, which I’d seen in the Morty Realm, was shaped like a U with the teacher’s presentation area at the opening. It felt friendly and democratic. By the time I was finished dragging the tables, my muscles were fatigued and my lower back ached.
