Book of Shadows s-1

by Cate Tiernan

  It was stupid even thinking about it. I got in line, the scents of cinnamon and nutmeg all around me.

  "Why, Morgan, dear, is that you?"

  I whirled to find myself looking into the face of Mrs. Petrie, a woman from my church. "Hi, Mrs. Petrie," I said a bit stiffly. What a strange run of luck. Somehow I'd expected more privacy on my little adventure this afternoon.

  Mrs. Petrie was shorter than me now but hadn't changed in looks for as long as I could remember. She always wore tidy two-piece suits, stockings, and matching shoes. In church she wore matching hats.

  Now she read my book's title. "You must be doing research for a school project," she said, smiling.

  "Yes," I said, nodding. "We're studying different religions of the world."

  "How interesting." She leaned closer to me and lowered her voice. "This is a very unique bookstore. Some of the things in here are awful, but the people who run it are very nice."

  "Oh," I said. "Um, why are you here?"

  Mrs. Petrie motioned over at the spices-and-herbs wall. "You know I'm famous for my herb garden," she said proudly. "I'm one of their suppliers. I also grow herbs for some of the restaurants in town and for Nature's Way, the health food store on Main."

  "Oh, really? I didn't know that," I said blankly.

  "Yes," she said. "I was just dropping off some dried thyme and some of last summer's caraway seeds. Now I must run. Good seeing you, dear. Tell your parents hello."

  "Sure will," I said. "See you Sunday." Yes, indeed. I was relieved when she disappeared through the door.

  I was so preoccupied with unexpected encounters that I had forgotten how oddly the clerk had behaved last time. But as I pushed my books across the counter, I felt his eyes on me again.

  Wordlessly I took out my wallet and counted money. "I thought you'd be back," he said softly, ringing up my books.

  I stood stone-faced, not looking at him.

  "You have the mark of the Goddess on you," he said. "Do you know your clan?"

  My eyes flew to his, startled. "I'm not from any clan," I said.

  The clerk cocked his head thoughtfully. "Are you sure?"

  He handed me my change, and I took it, then grabbed my book and got out of there. As I cranked Das Boot's big, V-8 engine, I thought about the Seven Great Clans. Over the last few hundred years they had been disbanded and hardly existed anymore. I shook my head. The only clan I was a part of was the Rowlands clan, no matter what the clerk thought.

  I took the small roads home and let the fiery leaves blur into the background as I sank into the daydream I was indulging in more and more: the cherished moment, under the moon, when Cal carried me into the water. Fantasy and memory ran together, and I wasn't even sure it had actually happened anymore.

  That night Mary K. made dinner, and it was my turn to clean up. I stood at the sink, rinsing plates, daydreaming about Cal, wondering if Bree and Cal had gotten together today after school. Had they kissed yet? It made my chest feel tight, and I commanded my mind not to torture me anymore.

  Why had Cal come into my life? I couldn't help wondering.

  It felt like he was here for a purpose. I hoped it wasn't some sort of cruel karmic payback.

  I shook my head, squishing suds through my fingers. Get over yourself, I thought as I started to load plates into the dishwasher.

  "What clan are you?" the clerk had asked. He might as well have asked me, "What planet are you from?" Obviously I wasn't from one of the Seven Clans, though it was interesting to think about. It would be kind of like finding out your real father was a famous celebrity who wanted you bad. The Seven Great Clans were the celebrities of Wicca, supposedly possessing supernatural powers and thousands of years of shared history.

  I rearranged the glasses in the top tier of the dishwasher. My book had said the Seven Clans stayed apart from the rest of humanity for so long that they actually had a separate and distinct genetic makeup. My parents… my family. We were as normal as they came. The clerk was just messing with me.

  All of a sudden I dropped the sponge I'd been holding and stood up straight. I frowned and glanced out the window. It was dark. I glanced around the room, feeling a strong sense of… I wasn't sure what. A storm coming? Some vague feeling of danger was stirring the air.

  I'd just snapped the dishwasher door shut when the kitchen door swung open. My parents stood there, my dad looking rattled and my mom tight-lipped and upset.

  "What's wrong?" I said, turning off the water, feeling my heart begin to thump.

  My mom ran her hand through her straight russet hair, so like Mary K.'s. "Are these yours?" she asked. "These books about witches?" she held up the books I had bought at Practical Magick.

  "Uh-huh," I said. "So what?"

  "Why do you have them?" my mom asked. She hadn't changed out of her work clothes, and she looked rumpled and tired.

  "It's interesting," I said, dumbfounded by her tone.

  My parents looked at each other. The overhead light glinted off my dad's balding spot.

  "Are kids at school into this, or is it just you?" my mom asked.

  "Mary Grace," my dad said, but she ignored him.

  I felt my brow furrow. "What do you mean? This isn't a big deal or anything, is it?" I shook my head. "It's just…interesting. I wanted to know more about it."

  "Morgan," my mom began, and I couldn't believe how upset she looked. She almost always kept her cool with me and Mary K., no matter how crazed her life got.

  "What your mother's trying to say," my dad offered, "is that these books about witchcraft are not the kind of thing we want you to be reading." He cleared his throat and tugged on the vee of his sweater vest, looking incredibly uncomfortable.

  My mouth dropped open."How come?" I asked.

  "How come!" my mom snapped, and I almost jumped at the tone in her voice. "Because it's witchcraft!"

  I stared at her. "But it's not like… black magic or anything," I tried to explain. "I mean, there's really nothing harmful or scary in it. It's just people hanging out, getting in touch with nature. So what if they celebrate full moons?" I didn't mention penis candies, bolts of energy, or naked swimming.

  "It's more than that," my mom insisted. Her brown eyes were wide, and she looked as taut as a piano wire. She turned to my dad. "Sean, help me here."

  "Look, Morgan," my dad said, more calmly. "We're concerned about this. I think we're pretty open-minded, but we're Catholics. That's our religion. We are part of the Catholic Church. The Catholic Church does not condone witchcraft or people who study witchcraft."

  "I don't believe this," I said, starting to get impatient. "You're acting like this is a huge threat or something." Memories of how sick I had felt after the two circles flashed through my mind. "I mean, this is Wicca. It's like people deciding to protest animal testing or wanting to dance around a maypole." Some of the facts about Wicca that I had read in my book came back to me. "You know, the Catholic Church has adopted a bunch of traditions that began with Wicca. Like using mistletoe at Christmas and eggs at Easter. Those were both ancient symbols from a religion that began long before Christianity or Judaism."

  My mom stared at me. "Look, miss," she said, and I knew she was really angry. "I'm telling you that we will not have witchcraft in this house. I'm telling you that the Catholic Church does not condone this. I'm telling you that we believe in one God. Now, I want these books out of this house!"

  It was like my mom had been replaced by an alien duplicate. This sounded so unlike her that I just gaped. My dad stood next to her, his hand on her shoulder, obviously trying to get her to calm down, but she just glared at me, the lines around her mouth deep, her eyes angry and cold and…worried?

  I didn't know what to say. My mom was usually incredibly reasonable.

  "I thought we believed in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost," I said. "That's three."

  Mom looked almost apoplectic, the veins in her neck jumping out. I suddenly realized that I was taller than she was now. "Go t
o your room!" she shouted, and again I jumped. We're not a raised-voice kind of family.

  "Mary Grace," my dad murmured.

  "Go!" my mom yelled, throwing out her arm and pointing out the kitchen door. It almost looked like she wanted to hit me, and I was way shocked.

  Dad reached out his hand and touched Mom's shoulder in a tentative, ineffectual gesture. His face looked drawn and his eyes concerned behind their wire-rim glasses.

  "I'm going," I muttered, taking the long way around her. I stomped upstairs to my room and slammed the door. I even locked it, which I'm not supposed to do. I sat on my bed, spooked and trying not to cry.

  Over and over, I had the same thought: What is Mom so scared of?

  CHAPTER 14 Deeper

  "The king and queen longed for a child for many years and finally adopted an infant girl. But to their misfortune, the child was destined to grow enormous and devour them with her steely teeth."

  — From a Russian fairy tale

  "So how come you're in the dollhouse?" Mary K. asked the next morning.

  I backed Das Boot out of our driveway, two strawberry Pop-Tarts clenched between my teeth.

  Once when Mary K. was little, she had done something bad, and my mom had sternly told her she was "in the doghouse." She had heard "dollhouse," and of course the whole thing made no sense to her. Now it's what we always say.

  "I was reading some stuff they didn't want me to read," I muttered casually, trying not to spew crumbs all over my dashboard.

  Mary K.'s eyes opened wide. "Like pornography?" she asked excitedly. "Where'd you get it?"

  "It wasn't pornography," I told her in exasperation. "It was no big deal. I don't know why they're so upset."

  "So what was it?" she persisted.

  I rolled my eyes and shifted gears. "They were some books about Wicca," I said. "Which is an ancient, woman-based religion that predates Judaism and Christianity." I sounded like a textbook.

  My sister thought about it for a few moments. "Well, that's boring," she said finally. "Why can't you read porn or something fun that I could borrow?" I laughed.

  "Maybe later."

  "You're kidding," Bree said, her eyes wide. "I don't believe it. That's awful."

  "It's so stupid," I said. "They said they want the books out of the house." The bench where we sat outside school was chilly, and the October sunlight seemed to grow feebler by the day.

  Robbie nodded sympathetically. His parents were much stricter Catholics than mine. I doubted he'd shared his interest in Wicca with them.

  "You can keep them at my house," Bree said. "My dad could care less."

  I zipped my parka up around my neck and burrowed into it. There were only a few minutes before class started, and our new, hybrid clique was gathered by the east door of school. I could see Tamara and Janice walking up to the building, their heads bent as they talked. I missed them. I hadn't seen them much lately.

  Cal was perched on the bench across from ours, sitting next to Beth. He was wearing ancient cowboy boots, worn down at the heels. He was quiet, not looking at us, but I felt sure he was listening to every word of our conversation.

  "Screw them," Raven said. "They can't tell you what to read. This isn't a police state."

  Bree snorted. "Yeah. Let me be there when you tell Sean and Mary Grace to go screw themselves."

  I couldn't help smiling.

  "They're your parents," Cal said, suddenly breaking his silence. "Of course you love them and want to respect their feelings. If I were you, I'd feel miserable, too."

  In that moment I fell deeper in love with Cal. On some level I guess I expected him to dismiss my parents as stupid and hysterical, the way everybody else had. Since he was the most ardent follower of Wicca, I expected my parents' reaction to annoy him the most.

  Bree looked at me, and I prayed my feelings weren't written on my face. In fairy tales there's always one person who is made for one other, and they find each other and live happily ever after. Cal was my person. I couldn't imagine anyone more perfect. Yet what kind of sick fairy tale would it be if he was the one made exactly right for me and I wasn't right for him?

  "It's a hard decision to make," Cal continued. Our group was starting to listen to him like he was an apostle, teaching us. "I'm lucky because Wicca is my family's religion." He considered this for a moment his hand on his cheek. "If I told my mom I wanted to become Catholic, she would totally freak out. I don't know if I could do it." He smiled at me.

  Robbie and Beth laughed.

  "Anyway," Cal said, serious again, "everyone has to choose his or her own path. You need to decide what to do. I hope you still want to explore Wicca, Morgan. I think you have a gift for it. But I'll understand if you can't."

  The school door swung open with a bang, and Chris Holly walked out, followed by Trey Heywood.

  "Oh," Chris said loudly. " 'Scuse me. Didn't mean to interrupt you witches."

  "Piss off," Raven said in a bored tone.

  Chris ignored her. "Are you casting spells right here? Is that allowed on school grounds?"

  "Chris, please," said Bree, rubbing her temple. "Don't do this."

  He turned on her. "You can't tell me what to do," he said. "You're not my girlfriend. Right?"

  "Right," Bree said, looking at him angrily. "And this is one of the reasons why."

  "Yeah, well—" Chris began, but was interrupted by the bell ringing and the appearance of Coach Ambrose striding up.

  "Get to class, kids," he said automatically, pulling open the doors. Chris shot Bree an ugly look, then followed the coach inside.

  I picked up my backpack and headed for the door, followed by Robbie. Bree lingered behind, and I glanced back quickly to see her talking to Cal, her hand on his arm. Raven was watching them with narrowed eyes.

  Dazed, I found my way to homeroom like a cow returning to the barn. My life seemed very complicated.

  That afternoon I put my Wicca books in a paper bag and brought them to Bree's house. She had promised I could come over and read them whenever I wanted.

  "I'll keep them safe for you," she said.

  "Thanks." I pushed my hair over my shoulder and rested my head against her door. "Maybe I could come over tonight after dinner? I'm halfway through the history of witchcraft book, and it's pretty fascinating."

  "Of course," she said sympathetically. "Poor baby." She patted my shoulder. "Look, just lie low for a while, let it all blow over. And you know you can come over and read or just hang out anytime. Okay?"

  "Okay," I said, giving her a hug. "How's the thing with Cal going?" It hurt to ask, but I knew it was what she wanted to talk about.

  Bree made a face. "Two days ago he was happy to talk for almost an hour on the phone, but yesterday I asked him to drive out to Wingott's Farm with me and he turned me down. I'm going to have to start stalking him if he doesn't give in pretty soon."

  "He'll give in," I predicted. "They always do."

  "True," Bree agreed, her eyes wistful.

  "Well, I'll call you later," I said, suddenly eager for this conversation to end.

  "Hang in there, okay?" she called after me as I escaped.

  The next week I made a point of hanging out more with Tamara, Janice, and Ben. I went to math club and tried really hard to care about functions, but I longed to be learning about Wicca and especially to be near Cal.

  When I told my mom I had gotten rid of the books, she was faintly embarrassed but mostly relieved. For a moment I felt guilty for omitting the fact that the books were only at Bree's house and I was still reading them in the evenings, but I chased the guilt away. I respected my parents, but I didn't agree with them.

  "Thanks," she said quietly, and looked like she wanted to say more, but didn't. Several times that week I caught her watching me, and the weird thing was, it reminded me of the creepy clerk at the Practical Magick. She was watching me with an air of expectation, as if I were about to sprout horns or something.

  All that week autumn moved in slowly,
sweeping up the Hudson River into Widow's Vale. The days were noticeably shorter, the wind brisker. There was a sense of anticipation all around me, in the leaves, the wind, the sunlight. I felt like something big was coming, but I didn't know what.

  On Saturday afternoon the phone rang while I was doing homework. Cal, I thought before I grabbed the upstairs extension.

  "Hey," he said, and the sound of his voice made me slightly breathless.

  "Hey," I replied.

  "Are you coming to the circle tonight?" he asked straight-out. "It's going to be at Matt's house."

  I had wrestled with this question for days. Granted, I was disobeying the spirit of my parents' orders by reading my Wicca books, but actually going to another circle seemed like a much bigger deal. Learning about Wicca was one thing; practicing it was another. "I can't," I said finally, almost wanting to cry.

  Cal was quiet for a minute. "I promise you everyone will keep their clothes on." I could hear the humor in his voice, and I smiled. He paused again. "I promise I won't carry you into the water," he added so softly, I wasn't sure I'd actually heard it. I didn't know what to say. I could feel the blood racing through my arteries.

  "Unless you want me to," he added just as quietly.

  Bree, your best friend, is in love with him, I reminded myself, needing to break the spell. She has a chance. You do not.

  "It's just that… I c-can't," I heard myself stammering weakly. I heard my mom moving around downstairs, and I went into my room and shut the door.

  "Okay," he said simply, and let the silence, an intimate kind of silence, spread between us. I lay on my bed, looking at the flame-colored tree leaves outside my window. I realized I would have given up the rest of my life to have Cal lying there with me right then. I closed my eyes, and tears started seeping out to run sideways down my cheeks.

  "Maybe another time," he said gently.

  "Maybe," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. Maybe though, I thought in anguish.