Teen Witch’s Survival Guide: Chapter 9
- 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
“Stop!”
All the tranquility of our grotto snaps in an instant. The grass physically recoils in fear, like a hundred frightened children, and the greenery dulls. Pollen grows stale on my tongue, and he wind grows still.
I’m on my feet in a second.
Quince stands just beyond the birch tree line, eyes stormy. Hawthorn pales.
“I can explain!” I try.
“That was magic! She’s a witch!” Quince yells back.
“Please, we aren’t hurting anyone.” Hawthorn pleads.
“I’ve known enough witches to know that’s not true!” he said.
I put myself in front of Hawthorn, arm protectively out.
“I’m not evil! You know me!” I cry, loud enough to turn Quince’s attention.
“You’ve been acting off. What have they made you do?”
“Nothing! I’ve created some potions and grown flowers!” Lean explains.
“We sell our potions in town, as medicine,” Hawthorn adds meekly.
“So, you’re not too far in.” He steps closer to me and puts his hand on my shoulder.
I slap him away.
“And I won’t be. We’re not what you think.”
Quince steps past me towards Hawthorn.
“Get away,” she stammers.
“What are you planning?”
“Nothing!” she cries, stumbling back in pace with him. Her hands shake, raising them in the air.
“Quince!” I snap, grabbing his arm with a jerk.
He takes a long, shaky breath.
“Lean, go back to the cabin. I’ll deal with this.”
“No! Just stop and listen to me,” my voice strains at the loudness.
Quince turns and crosses his arms.
“What could you possibly have to say?”
My mouth dries because I can’t say anything. I can’t argue with him. Hawthorn’s large brown eyes look desperate. Her breath comes in fast succession.
“I was born like this. I found out by accident.”
Quince rolls his eyes, but I cut him off before he can protest.
“Hawthorn sells potions that heal the townsfolk! I grow flowers! Neither of us is like the witches you talk of.”
“You’re just two kids in over your heads.”
“I know others!” Hawthorn yelps and covers her mouth.
Quince turns to her with uncertainty.
“Tons of witches! Witches are living in town, and you’re not aware of them! Because they’re just trying to live. I’m not the only one.”
Quince shifts his weight from one foot to the other.
“We’d know.”
“No, you wouldn’t. Some magic users are bad, some use their powers for personal gain, but most of us don’t. ”
His mouth tightens into a thin line.
“Please don’t tell Dad,” I say, sensing the chance.
“What? I have to!”
“Let us show you. We aren’t evil.” Hawthorn pleads.
He looks between us for a long moment.
“I don’t want you practicing without me.”
“No way you’re coming to practice–”
“Fine. We’ll be here tomorrow,” Hawthorn interrupts.
“What? But how will I, y’know?-”
“He’ll come to the festival with us, as an observer. It’s the best way to understand.”
She stands against the sky, having regained her composure. She’s sure of herself.
“We can’t!” I plead, but there’s a certainty in her posture. It reminds me of a family dinner, where I can’t make a case.
“Trust me,” Hawthorn says, voice lowering a bit.
“C’mon. We are still heading back,” Quince states sharply.
“But–”
“We’ll train again first thing tomorrow,” Hawthorn says, nodding along.
Quince drags me away, hand gripping my wrist roughly. I look back at her and watch the confidence leave her eyes. Her eyebrows furrow, the fake smile drops in sync with her shoulders.
She was protecting me. I have to keep Quince on a leash because I have to protect her, too.
Editor: Lucy Cafiero
