“But what if I really am a . . . witch.” The last word came out in a whisper, and I grimaced.
“Then you’ll learn to deal with it,” Maggie said. “I think you’re looking at this all wrong. You know, before he was part of the Super-Soldier Project, Steve Rogers was this puny, unimpressive guy who was more likely to break his arm playing checkers than to accomplish anything noteworthy. But then he became freaking Captain America! You get what I’m saying?”
“Um, yes?”
Maggie laughed. “God, Styles, you have got to read more comic books.” She leaned forward. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve dreamt of being bitten by a radioactive spider or finding a magical thunder hammer? I’ve spent my whole life wishing to be more than just ordinary. But I’m just me, just Maggie, and that’s probably all I’m ever going to be.” Maggie grabbed my hand again. “But you, Lainey, you get to be anything but ordinary, and maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”
The words settled over me, wrapping around me and covering me with calm reassurance. I smiled. “You know, Mags, even if things go to hell, I’m glad to have you by my side.”
“Oh, don’t get all emotional on me now,” Maggie chided, but she was smiling too. “I’ve got your back, you know that.”
“I know. Thank you. I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Well, for starters, you’d be stuck hanging out in a graveyard all by yourself.”
“It’s not so bad in the daylight.”
“I don’t know about that,” Maggie said, glancing around. “But you are a witch now, so I can understand if this place speaks to you.”
I sucked down a gulp of air. Maggie was just teasing me, but it was the first time anyone had actually called me a witch. It was jarring.
Well, Lainey, you’re gonna have to get used to it sooner or later. I took another deep breath. I’m a witch. I tested the phrase in my mind. It was strange, but not completely wrong.
It reminded me of the time I bought my first pair of cowboy boots. I remembered pulling the soft-soled boots out of the box and marveling at how the rustic leather looked vintage and worn in all the right places. I’d bought them immediately and worn them out of the store, but that night my feet were sore and blistered. It wasn’t until I’d properly broken in the boots that they fit without pain. Maybe, like the boots, I just needed to give myself some time to get used to the idea—to break it in, so to speak.
I’m a witch, I tried again. This time, the words didn’t completely jar me. I’m a witch. Better still. I’m a witch. It was getting better every time.
“I’m a witch,” I whispered under my breath, testing the words on my tongue. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to completely surrender, to try and reconcile the two warring sides of myself. Warm energy crackled underneath my skin. “I’m a witch,” I said again, a little louder this time. “I am—”
“Um, Lainey?” Maggie suddenly interrupted.
My eyes flew open. “Sorry. I was just trying to—”
“No,” Maggie interrupted again. “Look.” She pointed over my shoulder.
Unsure of what to expect, I turned around slowly. At first I didn’t realize what I was supposed to be looking at, but then I gasped.
The tombstone behind me was a small worn piece of polished stone. It was so old, the inscription of the name was barely visible, and weathering the elements for so many years had coated it in a dark layer of grime. But it wasn’t the stone that stole my breath; it was the rosebush behind it.
Most of the plants in the cemetery had grown wild, covering the tombstones around them like ivy, while others had simply succumbed to the Georgia heat. This was one of the latter, its withered, brown leaves brittle and lifeless.
But as I watched, slack-jawed, the rosebush had begun to change. The base of the bush turned green again, and tiny pink buds sprouted from its branches.
Maggie’s eyes were as wide as saucers, and it took several gulps of air before I could speak.
“Did I . . .” I trailed off. “Did I do that?” I finally squeaked out.
Maggie looked back and forth between the rosebush and me. “There’s only one way to find out.” She stood up, pulling me with her, and pushed my hand toward the bush. “Say it again.”
I nodded, swallowing hard. I leaned forward and touched one of the tiny buds. “I’m a witch,” I whispered.
Immediately, the bud responded, blossoming into a large pink rose with wavy petals and a darker center. I’d never seen a rose look so alive before. A tiny squeal of both laughter and amazement escaped my lips. Behind me, Maggie had her hand clamped over her mouth.
“I’m a witch,” I said again, louder and with both hands stretched out over the rosebush. I was still overwhelmed and absolutely terrified by the prospect of the future, but watching as the entire bush began to bloom and teem with life just felt right.
I turned back to Maggie, whose face mirrored my own amazement. “I probably shouldn’t have done that. I’m guessing that was a pulse?”
“Looks that way,” Maggie replied, and she started laughing. “God, Styles, if you get your Hogwarts letter before me, I’m gonna be so pissed!”
The look on Maggie’s face was so comical I couldn’t help but laugh.
It was surprising how easily the sound spilled out, how easy it was to laugh off the anxiety that was gnawing at me from the inside out. Was I really accepting that this was my fate?
I glanced over at the rosebush that was continuing to bloom and flourish, and then back at Maggie, who was still giggling. “I’m a witch,” I said, and for the first time since I’d discovered the truth, the word didn’t seem so foreign. It would still take some getting used to, but it was a start.
“So,” Maggie asked a little while later, “what’s the next step in all of this?”
I sighed. “I have to talk to Gareth.” It was the logical thing to do, but I was dreading it. I was so angry with him for lying to me, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to calmly and rationally discuss the issues at hand. What I really wanted to do was punch him in the face.
“Does he know you know?”
“I assume Serena has told him by now. I had a few missed calls from him.”
Maggie scrunched her nose in thought. “What do you think he’ll say?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “But he’s got some serious explaining to do.”
A short tritone chime chirped from inside my bag. Sighing, I dug around until my fingers wrapped around my phone. “Maybe that’s him now.” I slid my finger across the screen to read the text.
The number was unfamiliar, but as I read the message, a smile crept across my face. “It’s from Ty.” A rush of adrenaline shot through me, and my heart fluttered. “I didn’t even know he had my number.”
“Oh, I gave it to him.”
I rolled my eyes. “Gee, thanks, Maggie.”
“You’re welcome,” Maggie replied, her cheeks pulled up into a devilish grin.
I snorted and turned my attention back to the text. “He wanted to make sure I was okay.”