Teen Witch’s Survival Guide: Chapter 8
- Teen Witch’s Survival Guide: Chapter 1
- Teen Witch’s Survival Guide: Chapter 2
- Teen Witch’s Survival Guide: Chapter 3
- Teen Witch’s Survival Guide: Chapter 4
- Teen Witch’s Survival Guide: Chapter 5
- Teen Witch’s Survival Guide: Chapter 6
- Teen Witch’s Survival Guide: Chapter 7
- Teen Witch’s Survival Guide: Chapter 8
- Teen Witch’s Survival Guide: Chapter 9
A flower pushed its way through the soil toward the sun. It coils upwards, then, just before blooming, tilts down and sheds its petals.
“Damn,” I say.
Hawthorn smiles with a flash of disappointment in her eyes. “You got close.”
“Not close enough.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself. It took me months to get that far!”
I dropped into the soft grass. My body feels heavy with the energy I’d already burned.
“We should call it a day.” She says. Her curly hair is a mesmerizing array of orange and yellow in the light.
“There’s only a week left for me to perfect this.”
“You will not succeed while you’re this tired.”
I stare out towards the setting sun. I had made plenty of progress. But I can’t give up.
“Let’s keep going.”
Hawthorn sighs, but doesn’t protest.
***
By the time I return home, it’s fully dark outside.
“Lean!” Quince calls and wraps his arms around me. “Thank goodness you’re back. I was worried.”
“Why?” I asked him.
“It’s dark! You’ve been out for hours. Dad and Jacob went searching.”
The thought of Hawthorn meeting my family in the woods at night makes me flinch. I’ve discovered our eyes don’t reflect light; they glow. Even I figured her out in the first hour we met.
How long would it take a witch hunter?
“Sorry, I lost track of time.”
“Right. You’ve been doing that a lot lately.”
I scoff at him.
“What have you been doing?” He asks, lowering his tone and crossing his arms.
“Hanging out with my friend.” I say, my own posture straightening.
“Maybe she’s a bad influence.”
“She isn’t! Leave me alone!”
“You’re a child! Staying out this late, especially in the woods, you could be found by–
“A witch? Who cares! Who decided witches are evil in the first place?”
The silence that follows carries a heavy, somber mood. Quince’s expression tightens, his mouth a thin line.
“You haven’t seen the things I’ve seen, Oleander. The horrible things they’re capable of.”
“No. I haven’t.” I say, almost in defeat. But how many witches do they never meet? How many are like me?
“Exactly. Go to your room.”
I almost do. My feet twitch forward.
“You aren’t in charge of me.”
“What?” Quince’s tone is unsteady.
“I’m not twelve anymore! Do you think you can just storm in here and make up rules after you left me?”
He freezes. I want to grab the words and shove them back down inside, but I can’t.
I march upstairs to my room before I can do anymore damage. Quince doesn’t react at all.
***
I sneak out the next morning before the sun is fully up. The air smells of morning dew and tastes of pollen.
I wait in the field for the sun to come up. It takes at least an hour for Hawthorn to arrive.
“Are you sure you’re up for this today?”
“I’m sure.”
She chews on her lower lip. “Yeah, okay.”
I take a deep breath and focus on the ground beneath me. The grass twirls in excitement at the presence of my magic.
“Picture the tulip; calm your mind of any other distractions. It’s just you and the earth.”
I imagine it in my mind’s eye: the vivid pink and floral scent.
A small sprout pops free of the earth. It uncurls from the seed that I had thought into existence. I let it grow in sync with my breathing.
It stretches as if someone is greeting a new day. The petals form into their closed state, then bloom open.
“Stop!” A voice yells, one I know well. The flower withers in my hands
Editor: Lucy Cafiero
