My throat felt like it was closing. Once I had brought home a little bunch of lilacs from the grocery store, and Dad had looked at them and turned pale. Later he told me that theyd been Moms favorite flower, that she had carried them at their wedding, and that it still made him sad to see them. So Id eighty-sixed the lilacs. Oh, Mom, I thought desperately. Whats going on?
In the mean time, my asinine brother, Sam is still auditioning for the worlds biggest pain in the butt award. Last week he switched all of the copper plant labels in the garden around, so the chard has carrots written above it and the corn has radishes. Mom almost had a fit. And twice he has taken my bike and stored it up on the widows walk. It was a nightmare getting it down through the trap door, listening to him cackle in his room. But I am getting him backthis morning I sewed the toes of all his socks together. Insert wicked laugh here.
I chuckled, feeling relief sweep through me. Thank God. This wasnt my mom. This Sarah Curtis had a brother. My mom was an only child, and Dad had said by the time he met her, she was estranged from her family and never saw them. Thats so sad. It means I grew up with only one set of grand-parents and cousins. None from her side. But God, what a relief to hear this woman had a brother. I had been practically shaking with dread about this witch Sarah Curtis.
Time to go. I have to practice the full moon rite that Im supposed to do on Litha.
I turned the page.
Ok I am back. Mom is in the kitchen making a healing tea for Aunt Jess. Her tonsillitis is acting up. I cant believe I have school tomorrow. I keep looking at the calendar: three more weeks until Litha. Litha and summer. Mom and I have been crafting a fertility spell for the last two months. Basically it is to make everything in the land and sea do well and multiply. A typical Rowanwand all-purpose spell. I cant wait. At Litha all of Roiseal will be there and it will be the first big spell Ive cast in public since my initiation last Samhain.
With a thud all my sensations of fear and nervousness came back. This couldnt be my momI knew that. But someone with my moms name had written this book. Hands trembling, I set it down.
She had come from Gloucester, Massachusetts. Like my mom.
Like my mom, shed loved lilacs. It was too weird, too similar.
But some things didnt fit: her brother, Sam. The fact that this Sarah Curtis had been a Rowanwand witch.
Crash! I jumped about a foot in the air. My wooden jewelry box had fallen off my dresser and was lying on its side on the floor. How the hell had that happened?
This was all crazy. I closed the book without marking my place and went to my jewelry box. It was one of the very few things I had that had been my moms. I picked it up and cradled it in my arms.
That Sarah Curtis had been a witch.
My mom hadnt been a witch. I searched my patchy, foggy memories. My mom, who smelled of lilacs. Her smile, her light brown hair, her laugh, the way it felt when she held me. There had been nothing about her that said witch. I didnt remember spells or chants or circles or even candles. There were two Sarah Curtises. One of them had been a witch. One of them had been my mom. Just my mom.
I took the box over to my bed, unlatched it, and dumped everything out on my comforter. My fingers brushed through the fake jewelry, the goofy pins I collected, the charm bracelet my dad had been adding to since I was six. There were a few pieces of my moms jewelry, too: her engagement ring, with its tiny sapphire. Some pearl earrings. Even an anklet with little bells on it.
I looked at the empty box as if it would reassure me somehow. None of this could be real. There had to be some sort of explanation. A nonwitch explanation. My mom hadnt even had a brother.
Open me.
I hadnt heard the wordsI had felt them. I stared down at the box as if it had turned into a snake. This was too creepy. But, compelled, I turned it upside down. I shook it, but nothing more came out. I opened and closed it a couple of times, looking for another latch somewhere, a hidden hinge. Nothing. Inside I ran my fingers around the lid and down the sides. Nothing. There was a small tray insert that I had dumped out onto my bed. The bottom of the box was lined with cushioned pink satin. I pressed it with my fingers, but there were no lumps or catches anywhere. I was imagining things.
Then I saw the pale pink loop of thread sticking out from one side of the cushion. I hooked my finger into it and pulled gently, and the whole cushion came up in my hand. Beneath the cushion was the wooden bottom of the box. There was a tiny catch on one side, tarnished and almost impossible to see. I poked it with one fingernail, and nothing happened. I turned the box another way and held it in my lap and pushed at the latch again.
With a tiny snick the bottom of the box swung upward. And I was staring at a yellowed pile of old letters, tied with a faded green ribbon.
The ribbon was tattered and practically untied itself in my hands. The letters were written on a bunch of different kinds of paperloose-leaf, stationery, printer paper. I picked one up and unfolded it, feeling like I was watching someone else do this. From downstairs I heard the thud of the front door closing, but I ignored it and began to read.
Dear Sarah
Im so glad you finally contacted me. I cant believe you have been gone six whole months. It feels like years. I miss you so much. After you left, there was nothing but bad scenes, and now no one even speaks your name. Its like you died, and it makes me sad, all the time. Im glad to hear you are ok. I have set up a PO box over in North Heights, and you can write me there. I know Mom and Dad would flip right now if they saw a letter from you.
I better goIll write again soon. Take care,
Your brother Sam
Tap, tap. The knock on my bedroom door made me jerk.
Allie? Oh, God. Not Hilary. Not now. How many times had I told her I hated to be called Allie? A thousand? More?
Yeah?
Im home.
I had a feeling, I thought, since youre speaking to me. Okay, I called.
Do you want a snack? I have some dried fruit. Or maybe some yogurt?
Oh, no thanks, Hilary. Im not really hungry.
Pause. You shouldnt go too long without eating, she said. Your blood sugar will crash.
I felt like screaming. Why was I having this conversation? My past was unraveling before my eyes, and she was going on about my freaking blood sugar!
Its okay, I said, aware that some irritation had entered my voice. Ill deal with my blood sugar.
Silence. Then her footsteps retreating down the hall. I sighed. No doubt I would hear about that later. For some reason, neither Hilary nor Dad could understand why I might have some trouble getting used to having his pregnant, twenty-five-year-old girlfriend living with us.
I shuffled the letters randomly and picked up another one.
Dear Sarah
Im sorry I couldnt make the wedding. You know October is one of our busiest time. I have to tell you: Youre my sister, and I love you, but I cant help feeling disappointed you married an outsider. I know you turned your back on your magick, but can you turn your back on your entire heritage? What if you, by some miracle, have a child with this outsider? Can you stand to not raise this child Rowanwand? I dont get it.
A few paragraphs down it was signed Sam.
I felt hot and a little dizzy. The truth kept trying to break into my consciousness, but I held it back. Just one more letter.
Dear Sarah
Blessing on your good news. Since you moved to Texas, I have been worried about you. It seems so far away. I hope you and my new niece, Alisa, will be happy there. Dad has been sick again this springhis heartbut no one thinks its as series as it was two years ago. Ill keep you posted.
The letter fluttered from my fingers like an ungainly butterfly. Oh, God. Oh, God. I swallowed convulsively, pressing my hand to my mouth. I had been born in Texas. My name was Alisa. Reality crashed down on me like a breaker at the shore, and like a shell, I felt tumbled about, rolled, torn away from land.
I, Alisa Soto, was the daughter of a witch and a nonwitch. I was half witch. Half witch. Everything I had always thought about my mom my whole life had been a lie. A rough cry escaped my throat, and I quickly smothered it in a pillow. Everything I had known about me my whole life was a lie, too. It was all lies, and none of it made sense. Suddenly furious, I picked up the damn witchs box and threw it across my room as hard as I could. It smashed against one wall and shattered into dozens of sharp pieces. Just like my heart.
Honey, are you all right? My dads voice sounded tentative, worried.
Im fine, Dad. Except for the fact that you married a witch and now I have witch blood in me, just like all the people who freak me out.
Can I come in? Of course the door was locked, but it was one of those useless dinky locks where a little metal key pops it open in about a second. Dad, assuming his parental right, unlocked the door and came in.
I was curled up on my bed, under all my covers, with my grandmothers afghan bunched around my neck. I felt cold and miserable and hadnt gone down to dinner, which had been a chickpea casserole. As if I didnt feel bad enough.
My brain had been in chaos all afternoon. Dad must not have known Mom was a witch. I think she had hidden it from himand who wouldntand he had never figured it out. Hed never been thrilled about my going to Kithic circles, but he hadnt acted paranoid. Surely he would have said something if hed known my mom had been a witch.
I brought you some soup, he said, looking for a place to put down the tray.
Dont tell me. Tofu soup with organic vegetables who willingly gave their lives for the greater good. Spread the misery around.
He gave me a Look and set the tray at the bottom of the bed. Campbells chicken noodle, he said dryly. I found some in the pantry. Its not even Healthy Request.
I sniffed warily. Real soup. Suddenly I was a little hungry. I sat up and dipped a saltine (okay, it was whole wheat) into the soup and ate it.
Whats wrong, honey? Dad asked. Do you feel like youre getting sick again? Like last month?
I wish. This was so much worse. Then tears were rolling down my face and into my bowl.
Nothings wrong, I said convincingly. Sniff, sniff.
Hilary says you seemed upset when she came home. Translation: youve been being a jerk again, havent you?
I didnt know what to say. Part of me wanted to blurt out everything, show Dad the letters, confide in him. Another part of me didnt want to ruin whatever memories he had of my mom. And another part didnt want him to look at me, for the rest of my life, and think, Witch, which he definitely would once he read the letters and understood about blood witches. My shoulders shook silently as I dipped another cracker and tried to eat it.
Honey, if you cant tell me, maybe HilaryI mean, if its a girl thing...
As if. My soggy cracker broke off in the soup and started to dissolve.
Or me. You can tell me anything, he said awkwardly. I wished that either one of us thought that was true. I mean, Im just an old guy, but I know a lot.
Thats not true, I said without meaning to. Theres a lot you dont know. I started crying again, thinking about my mom, about how my whole childhood had been a lie.
So tell me.
I just cried harder. There was no way I could possibly tell him about this. It was like I had spent fifteen years being one person and suddenly found out I was someone completely different. My whole world was dissolving. I cant. Just leave me alone, please.
He sat for a few more minutes but didnt come up with a plan that would suddenly make everything all right, make up for our not being close, for my not having a mom, for his marrying Hilary next month. After a while I felt his weight leave my bed, and then the door closed behind him. If only I could talk to him, I thought miserably. If only I could talk to someone. Anyone who would understand.
And then I thought of Morgan.
Morgan? I called on Wednesday morning. I had been lurking in the parking lot, waiting for her and Mary K. to arrive. Mary K. had popped out of the car, looking cute and fresh, the way she always did. Id waited till shed gone off to hang with our other friends; then Morgan had wearily swung herself out of her humongous white car and I called to her. Id seen Morgan in the morning before and wasnt sure it was smart to talk to her this early. Besides her usual non-morning-person vibe, today she looked a little haggard, like she hadnt been sleeping.
She turned her head, and I stepped forward and waved. I saw the faint surprise in her eyesshe knew I tried to avoid her sometimes. As I got closer, I saw that she was drinking a small bottle of orange juice, trying to slug it down before the bell rang. Hilary would be glad that at least Morgan was paying attention to her blood sugar.
Hey, Alisa, Morgan said. Mary K. went thataway. She pointed to the main building of Widows Vale High, then glanced around us, as if to assure herself she was actually at school.
Uh, okay. But actually I wanted to talk to you, I said quickly.
She slurped her drink.
Are you okay? I couldnt help asking.
She nodded and wiped her mouth on her jacket sleeve. Yeah. I just... didnt get much sleep last night. Maybe Im coming down with something. She gave another sideways glance, and I wondered if she was supposed to meet someone.
Well, I have to tell youI took your book on Monday. There. Id gotten it out.
She gave me a blank look.
Your green book. That you had Monday in your backpack. Well, I took it.
Morgans brows creased: The rusty gears of her brain were slowly creaking to a start as the OJ flowed into her system. She gave a quick glance over her shoulder to her backpackthe scene of the crimeas if clues would still be there. Oh, that green book? The Book of Shadows? You took it? Why?
Yes. I took it on Monday. And I read it. And I need to talk to you about it.
Suddenly she looked more alert. Okay. Do you still have it?