B*witch

by Paige McKenzie

  Lolli. Iris felt that sad feeling again, being parted from her. Gah. So Lolli must be her familiar. Which meant that she needed to convince Nyala to give her up and let her live in Iris’s room.

  Should Iris bribe her? But if she acted like she wanted Lolli, Nyala would be doubly determined not to give up her pet. Maybe Iris should cast a spell on Nyala? That seemed like a bad idea, too. She’d have to think about how best to do this.

  Sighing, Iris leaned over her desk and refreshed her laptop screen. The two leaders of the High Council were still trash-talking each other. Behind them, their respective coterie of guards had gathered, brandishing various enchanted weapons—everything from wands to swords to spears to thunderwhips.

  “But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t brave… oh yeah, ooo-ooo, la la la la la la…” Iris sang.

  Her phone chimed just then. A message popped up, indicating that she had a Facebook friend request.

  Iris logged into her Facebook account, which she hardly ever used because she hardly ever got any “likes,” and she had so few FB friends as it was. Someone named Aysha Rodriguez had requested to be her friend. Iris checked out her profile photo. Oh yeah. Aysha was in her English class.

  Wow! Iris thought as she accepted the friend request. The last time she’d had a friend request was… well, she couldn’t even remember.

  A moment later, a message came through from Aysha:

  Hey, Iris! Thanks for accepting my friend request. I loved your comment about teapots in Dalrymple’s class! Ha! So I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch tomorrow. (I have A-lunch.)

  Iris smiled in surprise. People at this school were so nice!

  Hey, Aysha! I do have A-lunch, and yes, I’d love to have lunch with you!

  Aysha replied:

  Fun! I can introduce you to my friends Mira and Div, you’ll like them. I thought I’d invite this other new girl to join us. Her name’s Penelope, she’s in our English class, too. I think the five of us might have a lot in common. K bye!

  “Wow!” Iris said out loud. She busted out a spontaneous dance move and accidentally crushed a Pasta-in-a-Cup container with her foot. So much for graceful. Just this morning, she’d wanted to vomit all over the hallway because she was so nervous about being in a new school, a new city, a new coast. But since then, she’d made a couple of friends (a real one—a witch!—and a Facebook one) and was well on her way to making even more friends.

  She was about to return to her game when a text came in from an unfamiliar number:

  Hi, it’s me, Greta!

  Greta! Friend #2! Iris busted out another dance move. She’d given Greta her number at Poe’s Market earlier.

  The text continued:

  I’m really glad we met today! Do you have A-lunch? If so do you want to have lunch together tomorrow?

  Iris’s eyes grew wide. Now she had two lunch invitations for tomorrow! How would she be able to choose? But she had no choice; she’d already said yes to Aysha.

  Or maybe she could be creative? The lunch period was approximately forty-five minutes long. That meant she could have two twenty-two-and-a-half-minute-long lunches, right?

  Iris wrote:

  Lunch is good but I might be a little late if that’s okay?

  Greta wrote back:

  Of course! I usually eat in the courtyard under the purple flower tree so just meet me when you can. I’ll see if my friends Binx and Ridley are free, too.

  “Sure!” Iris said out loud.

  She started to type XOXO, then deleted it, then retyped it, then re-deleted it. She didn’t want to come across as one of those desperate fan-girly girls, even though Greta did make her feel kind of fan-girly. After all, she’d saved Iris from those three Antima bullies. Plus she was a supercool witch. Plus she smelled like lavender.

  There were no further texts. Iris returned to her game.

  Life in Sorrow Point was definitely looking up.

  Except for the Antima. And for that creepy shadow message that Greta had shown her. Iris wondered what Jadora would do about them?

  15

  SUNLIGHT AND SHADOWS

  If you ignore Discord within a coven, it will multiply in the shadows.

  (FROM THE GOOD BOOK OF MAGIC AND MENTALISM BY CALLIXTA CROWE)

  On Thursday at noon, Greta found her way to her favorite bench in the school courtyard, the one under the purple crape myrtle tree. It was a perfect day to be outside—warm but not too warm and with a gentle breeze that carried with it the faint, intoxicating fragrance of abelia blossoms and freshly mown grass. The cedar bench was adorned with a small gold plaque that said: IN MEMORY OF JANE ELIZABETH LEAVENWORTH. She didn’t know who Jane Elizabeth Leavenworth was, and she’d resisted the impulse to google her; in Greta’s mind, the name had bloomed into a social activist, biologist, and (secret) garden witch who lived in Sorrow Point a century ago with a cat familiar named Orlando and six witchy daughters.

  Greta gazed around the courtyard; Binx and Ridley should be here soon. Iris had said she’d be late, but Greta was just happy she could join them at all. Plus, she was glad to have a little time alone with Binx and Ridley first. They had a lot to discuss, and not just about the shadow messages and the Antima.

  Ridley had called her last night and told her about Ms. O’Shea. The news had been a (good) surprise—there were now two new witches at their school. There was strength in numbers, after all. But with the good came the bad, of course. If Ms. O’Shea and her coven were right, and there really was some rich, powerful Antima organizer in Sorrow Point, then things were bound to get worse… not just shadow messages and defaced gravestones, but possibly violence. Like what happened to that witch in Texas. (Also, maybe this Antima bigwig had influence with the local police and would convince them to beef up their witch patrol… and witch arrests?)

  A sudden chill spidered up Greta’s spine. She glanced up abruptly. Nope, no one around. The closest students were all the way by the soccer fields playing Ultimate Frisbee. No sign of Orion or Axel or Brandon, either.

  She touched her raw amethyst pendant under her peasant blouse and willed herself to relax. Maybe she should sketch a little until the other girls arrived. She pulled out a slim notebook—not her grimoire, which she only used in private, but a Himalayan rice paper sketchbook—and a green velvet bag containing her drawing pencils. She also opened her recyclable waxed canvas lunch bag and peered inside. She usually packed her own lunches and Teo’s, too (she’d been doing this since fifth grade), but this morning her mother had apparently woken up at three—“Middle-aged-lady insomnia,” Ysabel had explained with a cheerful yawn—and packed lunches for the whole family. Greta made a mental note to mix a new sleeping elixir for her—perhaps a blend of lavender, valerian root, chamomile, passionflower, and skullcap?

  Greta’s parents knew she was a witch. They’d known ever since she was eleven, when she’d touched a dead zinnia in the garden, closed her eyes, and willed it to “wake up”—and the withered brown blossom had instantaneously morphed into a profusion of bright red petals. After this discovery moment, Tomas and Ysabel had sat her down and instructed her that even though they’d always taught her not to keep secrets, she absolutely had to keep her magical power a secret. Had to. They loved her and supported her; they were opposed to 6-129, the law against witchcraft; and they were passionate about equal rights for all. But they also wanted to make sure that the information about her identity never leaked, for her own safety. They’d also told her about her great-grandmother Adelita, on Ysabel’s side, who’d been a witch, too. (Adelita had died when Ysabel was a baby, so she had never known her.)

  “Hey!”

  It was Binx, making her way toward the bench. She was carrying a strawberry yogurt, a bag of potato chips, and a ginger ale. “Calumnia,” she said as she sat down next to Greta and shrugged off her Hello Kitty backpack. “So where’s the newb recruit?”

  “Is that what you’re calling her now? Iris will be here soon. Where’s Ridley?”

 
“She had to see Ms. Fein about her paper. She said, like, five minutes.”

  “Got it.” Greta nibbled thoughtfully on a carrot stick. “Did you manage to find the names on those gravestones?”

  “No. I tried to blow up the photos, but the quality was too grainy. I guess one of us will just have to go back to the cemetery in person. Fun!” Binx tore open her bag of potato chips and popped one in her mouth. “By the way, I’m curious—why does the newb recruit think 1415 is code for ‘no’?” she asked, chewing.

  “She touched the shadow message. My shadow message; she doesn’t know about Div’s yet. I didn’t even tell her about Div being a… Anyway, Iris touched my shadow message and had some sort of vision that indicated that 1415 meant ‘no.’”

  “Soooo… she could be making it up?”

  “Why would she make it up?”

  “Who knows?” Binx said with a shrug. “You literally just met her yesterday. She could be a fake, or a fluffy bunny, or crazy, or whatever. Or she could have sent the shadow message, did you ever think about that? She may not be who she says she is. In fact, I should do more online vetting on her before we let her into the circle, don’t you think?”

  Greta spread her napkin (actually a dish towel with a map of New Mexico) across her lap and smoothed it carefully. “I guess? But she seemed real to me. Super-sincere. You can see for yourself when you meet her. Besides, we need all the help we can get to figure out who’s threatening us. And she seems… I don’t know, gifted. Intuitive.”

  “Speaking of help…” Binx set her food down and leaned toward Greta. “I’ve been thinking. There’s someone else who might be able to help us.”

  “Who?”

  “I have this online friend. We met on one of the Witchworld discussion boards. It’s a long story, but it turns out he’s a cyber-witch, too. He might have some thoughts on how to track down whoever wrote those shadow messages.”

  Greta blinked. “I don’t understand. Who is this guy?”

  Binx lowered her voice, her eyes bright with excitement. “This is totally, hugely confidential, so you can’t tell anyone. I haven’t even told Ridley yet. I figured I should tell you first because you’re our leader or whatever, then the three of us could discuss. Anyway, so… ShadowKnight, that’s my friend, he belongs to this witch group called Libertas. They started a resistance movement so they can get rid of 6-129 and help protect witches’ rights.”

  Greta took a sip of her kombucha tea and considered this.

  “Don’t they sound epic? And awesome?” Binx rambled on. “I’ve actually been thinking about joining them. Things are getting so out of control with the Antima.”

  “Um…” Greta hesitated. “Have you ever met this, uh, Shadowlight person in real life?”

  “ShadowKnight. No, why?”

  “Well, how do you know he’s not a fake or a fluffy bunny or crazy?”

  Binx’s expression hardened. “Really? That’s your reaction to what I just said?”

  “We have to be really, really careful about our identities. You know that.”

  “OMG! You are such a hypocrite. So, it’s okay that you tell the newb recruit about our coven and share the shadow message with her and everything—without asking Ridley and me, thanks—but it’s not okay for me to do the same with my friend?”

  “At least I’ve met Iris and talked to her in person. I can be sure she’s who she says she is,” Greta said defensively. “What if ShadowKnight is, like, Antima in disguise? What if there’s no such group as Libertas? Or what if there is, and they’re all Antima, posing as witches?”

  Binx stood up abruptly, scattering potato chips everywhere. “You are so paranoid. Libertas doesn’t have a website or a social media presence, for safety reasons. Obviously. Besides, you don’t know him like I do.” She shook her head. “Why are you so closed-minded? And selfish? Don’t you want to do what’s right and what’s best for all the witches in the world and not just our stupid little coven?”

  “Stupid? Since when is our coven stupid?”

  “Guys!”

  Ridley was hurrying across the courtyard toward them. “Why are you arguing?”

  Greta touched her pendant and took a deep breath. “We’re not arguing. Everything’s fine!” she replied with a strained smile.

  “Yeah, peachy,” Binx said sarcastically.

  Greta glared at her.

  Ridley cocked her head. “O-kay. I thought you said Iris Gooding was having lunch with us?”

  “She is,” Greta confirmed.

  “Then why is she having lunch with Div and Mira and Aysha? And Penelope?”

  “What?” Greta burst out. “And who’s Penelope?”

  “Penelope is… she’s a sophomore, too. She’s new here. She lives in my neighborhood,” Ridley explained, studying her red nails.

  “She’s a beautuber,” Binx added. “She’s got over sixty-five thousand subscribers.”

  Greta tried to wrap her mind around this information. Iris was having lunch with Div and her girls. Which meant that Div must have figured out about Iris being a witch. Which meant that Div might be trying to recruit Iris into her coven right this second.

  And why was this Penelope girl in the mix? Was she a witch, too? (And what on earth was a beautuber?)

  “Ugh. Where are they?” Greta asked Ridley.

  “At their usual table in the cafeteria.”

  Greta stuffed her lunch and sketchbook and pencils into her backpack. “Let’s go.”

  16

  THE COOL TABLE

  If you wish to join another Coven, do it with care lest you create Enemies where once you had Friends.

  (FROM THE GOOD BOOK OF MAGIC AND MENTALISM BY CALLIXTA CROWE)

  Div found the Iris girl very annoying.

  “This is so fun, having lunch with you guys!” Iris was saying in a high, excited voice as she rooted through her Batgirl lunch bag. “Back at my old school, I sometimes ate lunch with the chess club. They met every day at noon… five past noon, to be exact. I don’t actually know how to play chess.… Well, I do, kind of.… Like, I know the names of the pieces, pawns and rooks and bishops and knights and queens and kings… actually, there’s only one queen and one king, so singular queen and king, not plural queens and kings… but I’m not great at remembering which pieces are supposed to go where, and when, and how you capture the other person’s pieces, and what even is ‘castling’? And ‘en passant’? And the ‘Sicilian Defense’? It’s so complicated!” She paused, unwrapped a corn muffin, and took a big, crumbly bite. “Anyhoo, it’s nice to have people to hang out with at lunch. Versus, say, sitting alone in the corner of the cafetorium—isn’t that a weird word, cafetorium?—and pretend-texting. So, thank you for letting me sit at the cool table!”

  Div cocked her head and regarded Iris. She knew she should try to respond with “charming”… after all, she was planning to ask Iris (and Penelope, too) to join their coven, pending confirmation that they were both witches, and she needed yeses from both of them. But still. She wasn’t sure she could stand five more seconds in this girl’s presence, let alone see her on a regular basis.

  Fortunately, Mira stepped in; even though she could be quite nasty (especially in combination with Aysha, especially when the two of them were hexting Binx or pranking random students), she could also be naturally, genuinely sweet. (“Sweet” was a foreign language for Div.)

  “Iris, I am so with you about the ‘complicated,’” Mira said, punctuating her point in the air with a piece of string cheese. “My dad’s been trying to teach me chess, and it seriously hurts my head. But I want to get better, so maybe you and I could play sometime? We can keep it super-caj and also reward ourselves with mani-pedis after. Or before. Or during.”

  Iris nodded so eagerly that her glasses slid down her nose. She pushed them back up. “Yes! That sounds fun! I’ve actually never had a mani-pedi, or not a real one, anyway.… My sister Kedren, she’s my big sister… I have a little sister, too, Nyala, she’s a total brat�
�� Kedren used to try to give me home mani-pedis, but the smell of the nail polish always—”

  “So interesting,” Div interrupted, trying to put the brakes on yet another runaway Iris monologue. She instinctively reached up to pet Prada, then remembered that she’d left her at home to digest her mouse from yesterday. (Snakes didn’t like being held during the twenty-four to seventy-two hours after a meal.) “Penelope, what’s your position on mani-pedis? Pro or con?”

  “Oh, pro, definitely,” Penelope said cheerfully. “I did a whole series about them for my YouTube channel last month. I tested different vegan nail polishes, because that’s a thing now.” She turned to Iris and added, “You might like them. I think they smell nicer than the not-vegan kinds.”

  “Cool!” Iris exclaimed.

  Mira asked Penelope some questions about her YouTube channel. Next to Mira, Aysha fake-smiled through her veggie burger and nodded, pretending to listen. (Aysha didn’t wear makeup, and the only topics of conversation that held her interest were witchcraft, martial arts, and wolves—she was convinced that her familiar, Nicodemus, was half wolf, half dog.)

  Div watched her two witches and her two new maybe-witches. She wasn’t a total Crowe disciple—not even close—but she did agree that group spells were more powerful than solo ones, and the bigger the group, the better. Hopefully Iris and Penelope were witches. (And if so, could they have enchanted the shadow messages? If yes, why?)

  “Hey, guys!”

  Speaking of… Div recognized the voice, its forced friendliness masking irritation, before she even looked up. Greta was heading toward their table, flanked by Binx and Ridley. Oh, great. Div needed to focus on her Iris and Penelope project; she didn’t need this distraction right now.

  Without waiting for an invitation, Greta pulled up an empty chair from a nearby table. Ridley did the same and sat down next to Penelope. Binx remained standing.