Witch (2 page)

At dinner that night I decided I couldn't tell my parents about the tree incident. It was just too weird, and dinner was turning into the usual drama anyway. The last thing I wanted was to cause even more problems.

My mother had gone to a lot of effort to roast an enormous piece of beef. It looked and smelled great . . . if you were a meat-eater. I wasn't, so it stank and looked disgusting to me.

‘Mum, I can't eat that, you know I can't. I'm vegetarian.'

My mother rolled her eyes and turned to my father. ‘Keith?'

Dad glared at me. ‘Vania, you were brought up eating meat and you are perfectly healthy. God put animals on this planet to feed us, and you are going to eat that meat.'

All my life, there had been no getting around my father's authoritarian attitude. He wasn't a decorated senior police officer for nothing – he excelled at and relished keeping people in line. And being his only child, I was unfortunately always on his front line. I knew from previous experience that at this point, one more word from me would mean I would be grounded for a week, so I kept my mouth shut.

Mum dished meat and vegetables onto a plate for me. ‘Honey, I cooked some nice green beans for you.'

I smiled at her a little before picking up my fork and gingerly stabbing one of them. I put it in my mouth, but

I could taste the rank flavour of dead cow. I put my fork down again – the bean still attached.

My father clipped me over my ear with his hand. ‘EAT!' he bellowed.

I watched my mother smother her food in salt and I elected to not put any on mine from that day forward. Somehow I would maintain my individuality in this house. I didn't want to end up stuffy and repressed like my parents. I picked up the fork again and ate the bean.

Two hours later I was finally in bed, still trying to forget the bus accident. At dinner I'd managed to get away with not eating any meat by cutting it into small pieces and hiding it in my serviette. But I had eaten the beans. And then I'd washed up and taken out the garbage, and by the time I'd said goodnight my father had almost smiled at me. I generally kept up the ‘dutiful daughter' act as much as I could stomach it.

Now I was alone. Well, as alone as you could be in a house with two other people and zero privacy. I couldn't remember when this rule had started or why, but I was never allowed to shut my bedroom door. Not back in Australia, and not here. If I did shut my door for more than a few minutes, my mother would jerk it open as if she expected to catch me doing something heinous. I had already become very good at changing in the small space formed by the wall and my wardrobe door. At least in our old home in Australia I'd had a walk-in wardrobe, which gave me more room to change.

I knew this rule was peculiar, and I'd once asked my mother why she didn't trust me. She'd said, ‘Honey, it's not that we don't trust you – we just don't trust other people.' Which just made me paranoid that some crazy guy was going to be waiting for me in my wardrobe one night. But then I would reassure myself that for all his strict, intolerant behaviour my dad was an excellent cop and nothing would happen to me on his night watch.

Eventually I heard my parents turn off the television and make their way up to their room. They shuffled around preparing for bed before turning off the light, their door open, too. I waited another five minutes before reaching under my mattress and retrieving my torch and a book:
The Sixth Sense and Us
.

I'd found the book under the floorboards in my new bedroom a few days ago. The house was old and I had noticed a loose board under the new rug my mother had bought to cheer up the room. When I prised it up I was expecting to find a whole lot of dust underneath, not a strange book with a mysterious blonde woman on the cover holding a candle up to a mirror. I found the image mesmerising. Flipping through the book's pages, I discovered it was all about witchcraft and felt a tingle of excitement – I knew my parents would never approve. I hadn't hesitated to start reading it – in secret.

I pulled my thick blanket over my head before switching on the torch and turning to Chapter Three, ‘Witchcraft and Magic'.

Two

The desk in front of me was covered in a scrawl of graffiti that had been painted over by maintenance staff probably a hundred times. I was listening to the social studies teacher emphasise the importance of doing ‘good' in modern society. I didn't understand why that had to be taught. Wasn't it obvious that you get what you give?

‘Hello.'

I jumped. I'd been so lost in my thoughts that I was still sitting at the desk like an idiot, even though class had ended and everyone was heading out. Bryce was standing in front of my desk, staring at me. He looked even hotter than yesterday on the bus, and he was smiling at me in such a friendly way that I could almost have sworn he thought I was interesting. But guys like Bryce didn't hang out with loners like me; this was a universal school rule – regardless of the continent. Wondering what he wanted, I managed to tear my eyes away from his smile and noticed he was wearing a leather band around his wrist. It had a metal disc embedded in it and seemed kind of out of place with the rest of his preppy gear.

‘What's that?' I was nothing if not direct.

He laughed and pushed his long fringe to the side of his face. ‘It's a charm band; my great-grandmother gave it to me. She said it would protect me from negative energy. She was a Spiritualist.'

I hadn't expected someone like Bryce to be into alternative things. ‘What's a Spiritualist?' I couldn't help asking.

He looked kind of embarrassed. ‘Well, the people who founded Summerland back in the late eighteen hundreds were Spiritualists. My great-grandmother was one of them. They, umm . . .'

At that moment the second bell sounded.

‘What's your next class?' Bryce said abruptly, changing the subject.

I realised I was still just sitting there; and it was time to go.

‘Chemistry with Mr Barrow,' I said, gathering up my books. As I stood up I couldn't help but notice that I fit neatly under Bryce's chin. He was just tall enough that when I tilted my head to look up at him my hair fell back off my face and out of my eyes. He had the most beautiful green eyes. They went perfectly with his dark hair and broad white smile. He made me feel a bit dizzy.

‘Whoa, are you okay?' He reached out and grabbed my arm as I started to topple over.

‘Yeah, thanks, sorry,' I mumbled, just as Cassidy Walters waltzed up and grabbed Bryce's hand.

‘Hey Bryce, thinking about making an addition to your fish tank?' She glared at me. The bus incident had left her with a very fat lip, and I considered how, out of the two of us, she was the one who now really defined the term ‘Mrs Fish'. But even with a fat lip she was easily the most beautiful girl in school, if you liked blue-eyed blondes with perfect teeth – which Bryce obviously did. It was finally dawning on me that she was his girlfriend

Even so, Bryce rolled his eyes at me as he turned to her. It made me feel like we shared some camaraderie.

‘Give it a break, Cassidy. Vania's new to the school. You could try being nice.'

Cassidy gave me a withering look. ‘Since when do you side with the terminal losers?' she said to Bryce.

‘There're no sides – she's just new. It's my job to welcome new students, remember?'

I stepped away from both of them, feeling like an idiot. Of course. I was the freaky new girl, he was just doing his presidential job, and I should just crawl back under the rock I'd come out from. But as I turned away, Bryce caught my eye, and he looked . . . apologetic? Yeah, right.

In chemistry class I pretended to pore over my textbook, but really I spent the whole class thinking about Bryce, Cassidy and my life in general. I had been at this school for two weeks; had no friends, only enemies; and my nicknames, ‘Mrs Fish' and ‘Fish Lips', seemed like they were going to stick.

It was true that I had full lips. I didn't know where I'd got them from – certainly not from my mum or dad – and I hadn't known there was anything wrong with them before my thirteenth birthday. My mum had thrown me a surprise party and she was angry with me for not interacting with any of the friends she'd invited.

I'd never had any real friends and these kids from our old neighbourhood weren't people I'd wanted to spend any more time with than I had to. When I'd said as much to my mother she'd told me to pick up my bottom lip or I'd trip over it. Two years later, it was still her favourite put-down for me. But in her defence, I guess, I did pout a lot.

‘Vania Thorn, are you paying attention?' Mr Barrow's sneering tone jolted me out of my reverie.

‘Yes, sir,' I answered hesitantly as a few of the students laughed at me. Thankfully Cassidy wasn't in this class. Her peabrain didn't make the grade for advanced chemistry.

‘Well, would you grace us with your solution for the formula in question? In fact, you can come up here and write it on the board.'

I was really good at chemistry. I just seemed to have a gift for putting somewhat odd things together to make something else, and I loved all the signs and symbols. But I did not love being the centre of attention. The walk up to the front of the classroom was brutal . . . until the bell rang as I reached the board.

‘Saved by the bell,' Mr Barrow said with a disdainful expression.

I sped gratefully back to my desk to get my bag. From the corner of my eye I could see Mr Barrow looking at me coldly. I was bewildered by his mean attitude towards me. What had I ever done to him? My chemistry grades from Australia had put me at the top of the class, but he wasn't exactly welcoming me with open arms. In fact, he seemed to see me as a nuisance.

I got out of there as quickly as I could. In the hallway I collided with something and hit the floor, the contents of my bag spilling everywhere. I looked up into a pair of identical faces. Two girls were standing over me, close enough that I could count their freckles. They really did look exactly the same, including the fiery red hair glowing around their heads like demonic haloes.

‘Hello,' they said in unison.

‘Uh, hi,' I mumbled. ‘Sorry for crashing into you.'

‘That's okay. Hey, I'm Amelia,' the one on the left said.

‘And I'm Alyssa,' said the one on the right.

‘We're twins,' Amelia whispered, as if she were sharing a secret rather than stating the obvious.

My eyes shifted from left to right as I tried to keep up with them.

I started to gather up the stuff from my bag that had spewed everywhere. I reached for
The Sixth Sense and
Us
, but Amelia beat me to it.

‘Cool book,' she said.

‘We have it, too,' Alyssa added. ‘Have you tried the psychic vision meditation on page 23?'

‘Page 33,' said Amelia.

‘She's probably right.' Alyssa shrugged and rolled her eyes. ‘She's better with numbers.'

‘I did try it, but I'm not sure if I did it right. I'm just kind of experimenting,' I said, feeling like I needed to contribute something to the conversation.

They both smiled. ‘Our mom got us the book for Christmas,' Alyssa said. ‘She's really into this stuff. She says we've been psychic from the day we were born.'

I felt an unexpected rush of admiration for both of them.

‘We always know what one another are thinking,' Alyssa said.

‘Which can be totally frustrating, of course,' Amelia chimed in.

‘Did we mention we're twins?' Alyssa said, giggling.

‘I knew she was going to say that again,' Amelia said huffily. ‘Anyway, twins knowing what one another are thinking and feeling is common, apparently. It gets kind of confusing at times. Sometimes I think I'm thinking something, but it turns out that I'm actually just hearing what Alyssa's thinking, and then other times—' She stopped talking abruptly and shot her sister an annoyed glance. ‘And she currently thinks I'm talking too much.'

‘You could have picked that up from half the school,' Alyssa said under her breath, then looked at me. ‘So, do you think we're clinically kooky?'

‘I was actually thinking I like that about you,' I said. It was true – I'd never met anyone psychic before, and I was enjoying the girls' company. ‘Psychic stuff is . . . definitely interesting to me,' I said hesitantly.

They smiled and I immediately felt more confident. ‘It's awesome that your mum's into it, too.' I blurted out. ‘My parents are so straight I have to hide books like this away from them. They'd probably burn them.'

Both girls laughed – at exactly the same time, of course. ‘Well, if you ever want to come over to our place for dinner,' Alyssa said, ‘our mom will talk your ear off about it. And read your tea-leaves while she's at it.'

‘And feed you all the vegetarian mush you can cram in,' Amelia added with less enthusiasm.

‘Sounds great.' All of a sudden I felt really happy. ‘Why haven't I met you guys before?' I asked.

‘We've seen you around,' Amelia said, ‘but you always seemed to want to be on your own, so we didn't want to be pushy.'

‘But then you ran into us, and you have a copy of one of our favourite books,' Alyssa continued. ‘It seems like fate. That book is really rare, you know – it only finds its way to certain people.'

‘Well, I'm glad I ran into you,' I said. ‘I truly would love to come over and meet your mum and eat her “vegetarian mush”.'

‘Come this Friday,' said Alyssa. ‘It's Vania, right?'

‘That's not her being psychic,' Amelia whispered in my ear, ‘it's her paying attention in class. So, dinner Friday. You can catch the bus home with us.'

‘That would be the bus that's leaving in three minutes,' Alyssa said in a sudden panic.

‘Bye, Vania,' they chorused and hurried off down the hall, leaving me feeling slightly bemused.