Strife

2. Contact

September 3, 1971

I feel sick. This afternoon Sam showed me a book he had just “discovered”. When I saw the cover, I nearly dropped the book in terror. It was a first edition of Harris Stonghton’s book, On the Containement of Magick.

I couldn’t figure out where he’d found it. My parents haven’t told him about their library yet, and even if they had, I doubt they own any books by Harris Stonghton. Sam told me that he’d found the book in the public library and had just taken it. He stole the book. He told me that he thought the book wanted him to have it.

I couldn’t believe this was the brother I’d known for his entire life. I asked Sam if he had any idea who Harris Stonghton was, and of course he didn’t. I should hope not. I explained that Stonghton was the most notorious witch in New England—that he used dark magick and antiwitch hysteria to wipe out as many non-Woodbane witches as he could. He even killed a couple of our blood relatives, although I didn’t tell Sam that. I could tell he felt guilty enough as it was.

I thought that would be the end of it, but when I handed him the book and asked him what he planned to do with it, Sam just said that he wasn’t sure. I know my brother. If I try to force him to get rid of it, he’ll only want to hold on to it more. Part of me wants to tell our parentsabout this, but a larger part of me is afraid of how they’ll react.

Goddess, grant me wisdom. And grant me courage to live in the house with that evil book.

— Sarah Curtis

The tall redbrick form of Widow’s Vale High School rose bleakly against the gray February sky. I tried to shrug off the feeling of gloom that crept over me as I trudged toward the front door. Morning was never my finest hour, and the short winter days didn’t help much. Neither did the fact that Mary K. had gotten a ride to school with her friend Susan Wallace instead of with me. She wasn’t speaking to me.

“Hey, Morgan!” Jenna Ruiz stopped me as I stepped into the front hall. Her blond hair was swept up into a ponytail, and she was wearing a brown sweater and dark jeans. Her tentative smile made her look young and unsure. It was funny to remember that before I had joined the coven, I had found Jenna slightly intimidating. “Going my way?” she asked, jerking her head toward the stairwell that led down to the basement—our coven’s winter hangout.

I tucked a few strands of hair behind one ear. “Where else?” I replied, and we fell into step together.

Jenna pushed open the door to the stairwell. Most of our regular coven crowd had already gathered. My good friend Robbie Gurevitch was sitting on the bottom step, leaning against Bree Warren’s knees. Her arms were draped over his shoulders. Ethan Sharp and Sharon Goodfine sat higher up and to the left.

Raven Meltzer stood at the bottom of the stairs, by the banister. She was wearing a red velvet shirt and low-slung black leather pants that showed off the flame tattoo around her navel. It was actually a demure look for Raven. I, on the other hand, could never pull off that look in my wildest dreams. As I studied her, I wondered if Raven had gotten my cosmic share of curves.

The pale winter light that leaked in through the window at the top of the landing cast a faint glow on everyone’s faces. I leaned against the wall by the bottom stair, and Bree smiled at me, taking away at least part of the February chill.

“Hey,” she said warmly. “How did it go last night?”

“Great,” I replied. “Everyone was charming, everyone was charmed.”

Sharon took off her baby blue cardigan and slung it over her shoulders. “What are we talking about?” she asked.

“Hunter did the official parental dinner last night,” Robbie explained.

“Oh, man,” Ethan said. “Cruel and unusual.” Sharon dug her elbow into his knee. “Ouch!” he yelped. “I was just saying. .”

“No, it’s true,” I agreed. “It was a little tense at first. But everyone was on their best behavior. It went well.”

“Not surprising,” Robbie said. “Hunter is every parent’s dream.”

I looked at him, surprised. “How so?” I asked.

Robbie shrugged. “Hunter’s responsible, he’s generous, he’s intelligent. And everyone can see that he’s good for you, Morgan.”

“Besides, he’s a witch,” Raven added dryly. “What parent wouldn’t be thrilled?”

I ignored Raven’s comment, pleased with what Robbie had said. He and I were close friends, but we’d had a fight a while back. He’d thought I was misusing my powers, and he’d had a point. But I was learning to be more responsible. It was good to know that Robbie realized my relationship with Hunter was a big part of that.

“Hey, Morgan,” Ethan piped up, “have you heard anything from Killian?”

Killian was Ciaran’s son and my half brother. I had gotten to know him slightly over the past few weeks, but after he’d come up to visit me in Widow’s Vale and behaved really badly, he’d pretty much dropped out of sight.

“No,” I said, feeling a twinge of regret. Killian was irresponsible, reckless, possibly even dangerous—but I really liked him. And I liked having a big brother. “I don’t know where he is. Back in New York, probably.”

I heard the door open and looked up to see Alisa Soto, one of the newer members of our coven. She was a sophomore with thick golden brown hair and dark eyes that were so large, she appeared almost owlish. “Hi, everyone,” she said shyly. She looked at me uncertainly. “Hey, Morgan.”

“Hi,” I replied, pleased to see her. She was younger than the rest of us and usually hung out with the other underclassmen before school. I guessed that her appearance meant she was finally—after weeks—starting to relax around us.

Sharon gave Alisa a bright smile and patted the space beside her. Alisa walked down to sit next to Sharon, murmuring hello to Bree and Robbie along the way.

Robbie glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get to the library,” he said. Bree released him reluctantly. “I’ve got to grab these last ten minutes to study before Spanish.”

“I’ll come with you,” Bree said quickly.

An odd look flickered across Robbie’s face, but just as soon as it had come, it was gone. “Great,” he said. “Let’s go. Later, guys.” He waved and headed up the stairs.

Bree reached out and squeezed my arm. “We’ll talk at lunch, okay? I want to hear all the details.”

“Sure,” I said. I watched, puzzled, as she turned and trotted after Robbie. It struck me as odd that Bree wanted to go with Robbie instead of hanging out with the rest of us. It wasn’t really Bree’s style to seek out extra study time.

“So Morgan, did you study for the test?” Jenna asked, slipping into Robbie’s seat.

My stomach dropped. “Test?” I asked.

Jenna bit her lip. “You’ve got Powell, right?” she asked. “I thought he was giving all of his sections a test on the Civil War today.”

It came back to me with sudden vividness and I groaned. “I thought that was next Thursday,” I said. I was totally screwed.

Jenna touched my arm. “What period do you have history? ” she asked.

“Fifth.”

“Great—that’s not until after lunch,” she said reassuringly. “I’ll give you my notes on the reading and you can study them then, along with your class notes.” She dug in her backpack and pulled out the notes. “Here,” she said, handing them over. “Don’t worry, it’s going to be fine.”

I really had no choice but to try to believe her. “Thanks,” I said as the first bell rang. I had the feeling it was going to be a very long day.

By the time I slid into my 1971 Plymouth Valiant—affectionately nicknamed Das Boot—my arms were practically shaking with exhaustion. I’d hidden Jenna’s notes behind my textbook in every class. Unfortunately, the cramming hadn’t helped. I’d wanted to tell Mr. Powell not to bother grading my exam. I knew I’d flunked.

I turned the key in the ignition and smiled as it turned over immediately. Old reliable. Mary K. was at cheerleading practice and had told me she’d catch a ride with one of her friends. It was the only thing she’d said to me all day.

Suddenly I didn’t want to go home. I could picture myself all alone in the quiet house. My parents wouldn’t be home for hours, and I had no one to talk to about my horrible day. Not that I wanted to tell my parents about flunking a test.

I started for Hunter’s house. Please be home, I thought, remembering the sense of calm I’d felt with him the night before.

Hunter was standing in the front doorway as I pulled into his driveway, gravel crunching beneath my tires.

“Rough day?” he asked, leaning in to kiss me as I climbed the front steps.

“Horrendous.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. His lips tasted like cinnamon tea.

He smiled. “Why don’t you come in and tell me about it?” The warm scent of cinnamon wafted past my nose as we stepped into the worn, comfortable living room. I knew without casting out my senses that Sky, Hunter’s cousin, was upstairs.

“Should I say hello?” I asked.

Hunter hesitated. “I think she’ll come down if she feels like it. She’s been pretty low lately.”

I nodded. Sky and Raven had been a couple for a while, but they’d recently broken up—thanks mostly to my half brother Killian. I wasn’t sure how Raven felt—it was hard to break through her tough-girl exterior—but I knew Sky was in a lot of pain. I felt a pang of sympathy as I imagined Sky going through a breakup halfway around the world from most of her friends.

I shrugged off my coat. Hunter took it and hung it up next to his in the hall closet. Then he came and pulled me down beside him on the threadbare couch.

“I spoke with Eoife again this morning,” he said. “She’s concerned about you. She would like for you to learn more about magickal defenses, and so would I.”

“What’s that?” I asked. “Like, self-defense for witches or something?”

Hunter nodded without humor. “That’s exactly what it is.” His green eyes seemed to deepen in color as he added, “Given your history, Morgan, it seems like a good thing for you to study. Also, it’s one of the topics covered in the preinitiation rites.”

“I thought I would be initiated as a witch a year and a day from the time of my first circle. I didn’t realize I had to prepare for it.”

“You don’t,” Hunter said. “That’s a simple ceremony. I’m talking about your initiation as a blood witch, which isn’t so simple. Once you’re initiated into the coven, then you begin preparing for your preapprentice rites, which are a series of magickal power and knowledge tests. They’re supposed to screen out blood witches who aren’t yet serious enough or in tune with their power enough for apprenticeships.” I stifled a groan at the thought of more tests as Hunter went on, “Once you pass those rites, you’ll be paired as an apprentice with a blood witch who will guide you until you’re ready for the full blood witch initiation.”

“How long will that take?”

Hunter shrugged. “It depends,” he said. “A few years.”

I struggled to hide my disappointment. A few years?

“Anyway,” Hunter said. “Eoife has found someone who can come here to tutor you in magickal defenses for two weeks. She’s going to stay with Sky and me. Her name is Erin Murphy, and she’ll be here this weekend.”

“Is she good?” I asked.

“The best,” he said. In his clipped English accent, the statement seemed to leave no room for doubt. “In the meantime Eoife asked me to show you the basics.” He stood up and crossed the room. There was a dinged-up sideboard along the wall leading to the kitchen, and Hunter pulled out a small bronze dish and a piece of chalk. He drew a small circle on the floor on the other side of the coffee table. I stepped inside, and he drew the last piece closed. Then he took a pinch of salt from the dish and sprinkled it around the circle. “With this salt I purify our circle,” he said.

We joined hands, closed our eyes, and breathed deeply for a few moments. With every breath I could feel my senses expanding. It was as if I was growing and reaching out, as if the house and everything in it was a living, breathing extension of myself. I felt myself draw power from the breath, and I sensed that Hunter was drawing the same power. Our bodies, joined at the fingertips, had become one, lost in the connection we felt with everything around us, including each other. Then we both dropped hands and found ourselves staring into each other’s eyes.

It was as if a window opened, and I could see the true depths of Hunter’s emotions—his fierce sense of protection, his trustworthiness, his love for me, and his appreciation for our connection. I also saw harsh and unyielding anger, and I knew that what I was seeing was the rage Hunter felt at what the dark forces had done to his family. Hunter’s parents, pursued by the dark wave, had left him at a young age. I saw that Hunter believed they were still alive and that he could help them. I also saw his frustration at not being able to do more, his stubborn belief that if only he tried hard enough, he could put everything right. I saw these things, and I sucked in my breath.

Suddenly the window closed, and he was simply Hunter again.

“The first lesson is in something called tàth meànma divagnth,” he explained.

“Is that like tàth meànma brach?” I asked, recalling the ceremony that I still thought of as the “Wiccan mind meld.” Tàth meànma was a ritual through which two people could look into each other’s minds and share thoughts, memories, beliefs. Tàth meànma brach was a sort of turbocharged version of regular tàth meànma, in which you exchanged basically everything that was in your brains. Alyce Fernbrake, a blood witch who ran an occult bookstore called Practical Magick, had gone through the ceremony with me.

“Not exactly,” Hunter said. “The object of the divagnth is to use someone’s power and divert it so that it can’t hurt you.”

“So it’s sort of like witch tae kwon do?”

Hunter smiled. Then he grabbed my wrist lightly with his right hand and pointed to the wall with his left. I felt a quick rush through my body, as if I had touched an electric current. A sizzling bolt of blue fire exploded from Hunter’s left index finger. It hit the wall and dissolved harmlessly.

I felt dizzy and struggled to suck oxygen into my lungs. “Are you all right?” Hunter asked, placing his hands on my hips.

I took a few deep breaths. “Yeah, but it kind of knocks the wind out of you.”

Hunter nodded. “It can be very effective when you’re dealing with an enemy.” His voice was grim, and as I felt his strong hands on my hips, I realized yet again that Hunter had years of training and knowledge that I could hardly even begin to imagine.

I looked him in the eye. “Teach me,” I said.

Hunter spent the better part of an hour showing me different techniques for deflecting power. Although he claimed that these were pretty basic self-defense moves, all of them were completely unknown to me. It was fascinating to realize that—even with all of Alyce’s knowledge, which was considerable—there were entire worlds left to learn.

“Excellent work,” Hunter said as I used one of his blocks.

Now that the energy wasn’t flying around the room, I felt the exhaustion of the day settle on me like a heavy blanket. Hunter touched my hair. “Should I take you home?” he asked.

“No,” I said quickly. I definitely didn’t want to go home now. “Maybe. . maybe we could go to a movie?” I suggested.

Sky came down the stairs. She was naturally fair but looked even paler than usual. “Hello, Sky,” I said.

“Oh, hello, Morgan,” Sky said, looking surprised. “I didn’t realize you were here.” That struck me as odd. Sky was a powerful blood witch. She should have sensed my presence. But as I looked at her drawn face, it was pretty clear that she was off in her own world. “Am I interrupting?” she asked, glancing from my face to Hunter’s.

“I’m just trying to talk Hunter into going to a movie,” I said. “There’s a—a great new foreign film playing at the Pavilion,” I said. Actually, what was playing there was an action adventure I’d been dying to see that I knew Hunter would never go for. But it was made in Hong Kong—that made it foreign, right? “It’s still early,” I went on, glancing at the clock on the mantel. It was only six-fifteen. “We can grab a slice of pizza before the movie, and I can still be home by ten.” I put on my best overeager face and batted my eyelashes.

Hunter laughed and gave in. “All right,” he said, holding up his hands.

“Great!” I rushed to the kitchen to use his phone while Sky wandered back upstairs. I punched in the number for my house and listened as it rang a few times and the machine picked up. I left a message explaining that I was going to a movie with Hunter. Considering the way my parents had reacted to him last night, I figured they’d be okay with me spending some quality time with him. At least, until I got my history grade.

Hunter and I grabbed a quick slice at Pino’s Pizza, then drove over to the theater. When we walked up to the ticket window, Hunter said, “Two for Fire Dragons, please.” I gaped at him as he pulled out his wallet. He noticed the look on my face, and the corners of his mouth twitched up into a smile. “What?” he said. “You didn’t actually think you had me fooled with that line about going to see a foreign film, did you?”

I laughed and shook my head. The more I felt I knew Hunter, the more capable he was of surprising me.

The wind was blowing my hair around my face, and I pushed it back with both hands as we walked inside. The Pavilion used to be a real theater, the kind where you see plays and stuff, and the interior is decorated with images from Greek myths. I always liked to sit in the front of the balcony because the view is great and hardly anyone likes to sit there but me.

We made a quick stop at the concession stand for a medium popcorn and a Diet Coke for me. When I turned around, I came face-to-face with Bree and Robbie.

“Hey, guys,” Robbie said. He pulled a few kernels from the top of my bag of popcorn and stuffed them in his mouth.

“Watch it,” I joked. “Do you know how much that popcorn costs?”

“I’ll pay you back,” Robbie promised, and placed his order for a large popcorn and two sodas.

“And a box of Raisinets,” Bree added. I smiled at her.

The blond girl gathered their order and lined everything up on the counter. As she was ringing their total, she said shyly, “Robbie?”

Robbie gave her a blank look. “Yes?”

The girl blushed. “I’m Jessica Watts. . from Mrs. Carleson’s class? Fifth grade? You sat next to me.”

“Jessica Watts?” Robbie repeated. He sounded shocked.

I felt my own mouth drop open. Jessica Watts? I thought. As in “Mega Watts”? Bree and I had been in Mrs. Norton’s class in the fifth grade, while Robbie was across the hall with Mrs. Carleson. The classes didn’t really mix much, but Jessica Watts had been famous at our school. At the age of ten she had already weighed over 150 pounds. She got teased a lot and bullied because of her weight. Now it looked like she had lost thirty pounds—and grown four inches. She looked great.

“Wow, Jessica,” Robbie said, “you look terrific! I don’t know if you remember Bree and Morgan,” he went on, waving a hand at us. “They went to Widow’s Vale Elementary, too. And this is Hunter Niall,” he added.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hi,” Bree said, checking her watch. “Robbie, the movie’s going to start in five minutes.”

Robbie looked at her. For a minute I expected him to protest, but instead he just said, “Yeah, okay. We’d better find a seat. Great to see you, Jessica.”

Jessica grinned. “See you around.”

As we stepped away from the counter, Robbie was still shaking his head. “God, I can’t believe how great Jessica looks,” he said.

Bree snorted impatiently. “She went on a diet—big deal.”

“Bree!” I tossed a kernel of popcorn at her. She batted it away with annoyance.

Robbie gave Bree a look. “I’m not just talking about the weight,” he insisted. “Back in fifth grade, Jessica always looked like a dog who was expecting to get kicked. She looks so much more confident now. . ” His voice trailed off, but I knew what he meant, and he was right.

Bree didn’t answer, and I wondered why. She usually had an opinion to voice. I glanced at her sideways and noticed her fiddling with one strand of her dark, perfectly tousled hair. I had known Bree a long time, since we were little kids, and I knew what that gesture meant. She was worried.

But what about? I wondered. It wasn’t like Bree to get jealous or possessive. In fact, Bree had a history of never letting any guy get too close. She had left a string of love casualties in her wake. I decided to ask her later what was up. Bree didn’t have the world’s greatest family life. I wondered whether everything was okay with her.

“Are you two heading up to the balcony?” Bree asked as we neared the foot of the stairs.

“Yup. Want to come?” I teased, knowing what the answer would be. We’d been having the same debate since the seventh grade.

“Forget it,” Bree replied. “You know how I feel about that rickety old railing.”

“See you guys later, then,” Robbie said.

Bree and Robbie walked through the main entrance while Hunter and I headed up the side stairs. I smiled as we walked down the aisle to my favorite seats in the front of the balcony. Looking down on the theater below, I saw that there were quite a few heads in the main part. But the balcony was completely empty. We settled into our seats just as the opening credits began to roll. Hunter put his arm along the back of my seat and I leaned against him, feeling like a corny couple out of the fifties.

“What’s this movie about, anyway?” Hunter whispered as the title flashed across the screen in letters of flame.

“A bunch of guys kicking butt,” I replied.

“Ah. Lovely.” Hunter settled back against his chair.

About twenty minutes into the movie, I began to notice that he seemed uncomfortable. He shifted left, then right, then took his arm away from the back of my seat and gripped the armrest.

“Are you okay?” I whispered. Hunter didn’t answer. I turned to look at him and gasped. His face, reflected in the strange shadows of the flickering movie screen, was dead white, and his mouth was opening and closing as if he was trying to speak but couldn’t form the words. My heart pounded as Hunter squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in his breath. I grabbed his arm and was nearly crushed by the weight of some unseen force. Wave after wave of emotions flooded over me—despair, agony, longing, regret, fear. Deep fear. The sensations were so strong that I thought they would overwhelm me as they ripped through my body.

Then suddenly the flood of feelings stopped. Hunter sank down listlessly in his seat. It was over.

I flopped back against my chair, exhausted, and listened to the sound of Hunter’s breathing—or was it my own? We were both inhaling in ragged gasps.

“What happened?” I whispered.

Hunter was pale, and his chest was still heaving. “It was my father,” he said softly.

Cold fingers of dread crept up my spine. “Are you sure?” I asked in a hushed voice. Hunter’s father and mother had disappeared when Hunter was a child. In an effort to save themselves and their family, they’d placed their children with relatives and gone into hiding, running from the dark wave. Hunter hadn’t heard from them in years. . until recently, when he’d received a scrying message that he felt certain was from his father. The meaning of the message was still unclear, but Hunter had sent a spelled seedpod down the Hudson River in the hope that he might make contact. But until now there had been no word, and I knew that Hunter feared the worst.

“I’m positive,” he replied.

“But—what does it mean?” I asked.

Hunter sat forward, leaning his elbows against his knees. He stayed there a moment, hunched over in that position, as though completely drained. Finally he faced me. “I don’t know what it means,” he said, “but I’m going to find out.”

I exhaled a long breath, trying to release the last of the fear and tension. I looked up at the movie screen. Its flickering images suddenly seemed like nonsense. “Let’s get out of here,” I whispered.

Hunter was already out of his seat by the time I finished my sentence.

I spent the drive back thinking about Hunter’s message, wondering what it could mean. A glance over at Hunter showed me that his jaw was clenched and he was concentrating on the road. I watched the dark, hulking forms of trees flicker past the car windows, and I thought about what it must be like to know that your parents are out there somewhere. To know that they may need your help. And to be unable to give it.

Soon Hunter’s battered Honda was gliding to a stop in front of his house. He shifted into neutral and stared straight ahead for a moment. Then wordlessly he swung open his car door and stepped out into the frigid night. I did the same, following him toward Das Boot. I would drive home from here.

Hunter was staring out into the darkness. I didn’t feel ready to say good night. “Hunter,” I began, but my voice trailed off. I didn’t know what to say. I leaned in close and wrapped my arms around him, wishing I could just hold him and make it better.

“I’m going to find them,” Hunter said simply. For a moment the words seemed to hang there, coiling around us in the quiet night air. Then he pulled away and turned to me, his green eyes glinting in the dimness with a strange, almost predatory look.

“How?” I asked.

“I’m not sure,” Hunter said. “The council was supposed to pursue a few leads, but they haven’t had any new information in a long time. They told me not to act, but I think I’ve waited long enough. The time has come to step in myself.”

“But you have no idea where they are!” I protested.

Hunter shrugged. “Not yet,” he said. Then his gaze seemed to soften, and he looked into my eyes. He leaned over, and his lips met mine. His kiss was gentle but insistent, and I felt my heart race at his touch. His fingers felt beneath my jacket and traced along my back. I shivered and pulled away from him.

“Hunter,” I said, “I know I sound like a goofy movie girlfriend, but will you please just promise that you’ll be careful?”

He hesitated before finally shaking his head. “I’ll be as careful as I can.”

I thought about the dark wave, about what it might take to rescue Hunter’s parents. He was right— careful wasn’t a word that would go very far in helping them. “All right,” I said finally, fighting the wave of fear that I felt. It would have to be good enough. “I’ll be thinking about you tonight.” I gave him one final kiss, then swung open my car door and slid onto the seat.

“Good night, Morgan.” Hunter turned, and his form retreated up the walk to his front door. I watched him until he went inside. Then I drove home, alone with my thoughts. I wished I understood what had happened. Memories of the violent emotions I’d felt swirled through my mind until I reached my house.

The hallway was silent when I went inside. I shrugged off my coat and hung it on a peg, then pulled off my boots so that I wouldn’t track mud all over the house.

“Hi, Mom,” I said, walking into the brightly lit kitchen. She was hunched over a pile of paperwork at the kitchen table. I pulled a glass out of the cabinet.

“Getting in a little late, aren’t you?” my mom remarked.

I stopped, confused. We’d left the movie early. “Didn’t you get my message?” I asked. “I was at the Pavilion with Hunter.”

“I got your message,” my mom replied. “But Morgan, you know it’s a school night. Have you finished your homework?”

I hesitated but couldn’t lie. “No,” I admitted.

My mother heaved an exasperated sigh. “Well, I don’t think I need to explain what my problem with that is,” she said. Her frown etched deep lines around her mouth, making her look older and tired. “Or do I? I don’t know, Morgan, lately I feel like your priorities have shifted.”

“That’s not true,” I protested.

“Isn’t it?” my mother asked. She looked even more weary, and there was a catch in her voice as she added, “You never join us at church anymore. I feel like we hardly see you—like you’re just disappearing from this family.”

I suddenly realized why my mother had been so eager to get to know Hunter. It wasn’t just because she wanted to make sure that he was a decent person—it was because she felt like I was slipping away, and she wanted to bring me back. “Mom, I’m sorry,” I said, feeling a wave of guilt. “I guess I shouldn’t have stayed out late on a school night. I just thought that you and Dad liked Hunter so much, you wouldn’t mind. And I don’t have a lot of homework tonight. I can still finish.”

“Morgan, I don’t want to force you to do things you don’t want to do.” My mom pushed away her paperwork and looked at me. “And I do like Hunter. But I miss you. We all do. I’d like to find a way to make sure that we can spend some time together.”

I thought for a moment. “Maybe we could have a regular night to get together,” I suggested. “A family night or something.”

My mom pursed her lips a moment and folded her arms across her chest, her thinking pose. “Well, maybe we could do something like that once a week.”

I nodded, thinking that maybe, if we spent more time together, my parents might realize that it was possible for me to have both them and Wicca in my life.

“Okay,” my mom said finally. “I’ll check with Dad and Mary K., and we’ll set up a regular night.” She leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. “I’ll think of something fun we can do together.”

I grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table. “Sounds good. I’m going upstairs to do my problem set. Sorry I was so late,” I said. Eyeing her paperwork, I added, “And don’t work too hard.”

“Mmm.” My mom bent over her papers again.

Biting into the apple, I went upstairs and crawled onto my bed with my calculus book. But the minute I got settled on my down comforter, the wave of exhaustion I’d been holding back all day washed over me with full force. I closed my eyes, intending to rest them for just a minute. I didn’t wake up until morning.