Page 50 of The Witch is Back

“No.”

“Are you going to?”

Emma slid down in her chair. “No.”

Leah smiled, satisfied. “It’s a date.”

Sloane appeared about an hour later, shoulders hunched, nodding as the girl next to her talked rapidly, hands going a mile a minute. There was a definite uncertainty to Sloane’s posture, but a trace of a shy smile, so Emma had hopes it had gone okay.

She didn’t say anything then, but after their mutual shifts had finished, she hustled Sloane to their favorite place for milkshakes. She opted for vanilla, Sloane for some disgusting-looking monstrosity that had chocolate and toffee and brownie pieces and whipped cream and chocolate shavings.

“Your aunt will kill me if you’re sick later,” she said, staring at the huge—ha—drink.

“Please.” Sloane snorted. “Aunt Debbie will be at work. And didn’t you hear? Teenagers have cast-iron stomachs. Even half-human ones.”

“I hope you’re right.” Emma stuck her straw into her own conservative drink. “Anything that comes with a spoon isn’t a drink. Just saying.”

Sloane gave her a beatific smile and dug in.

They were silent for a moment, absorbing the bustling atmosphere of the old-fashioned diner, which had memorabilia that ranged from signed autographs to the very tacky singing-and-dancing bass plaque. Sloane sometimes liked to mess around with the jukebox, being a fan of the Motown era. Human music was contraband in deepest society so Emma was new to a lot of the songs Sloane played, but she’d decided her girl had good taste.

Emma sucked some of the melting shake up through her straw and asked, in a very casual way, “So, how was your shift?”

Sloane jerked a shoulder, idly swirling her spoon to reach a brownie piece near the bottom. “It was okay. I played with Mikey some.”

Mikey, an adorable mixed breed—best guess was a cross between a Labrador and a beagle—was Sloane’s favorite because he was just as shy as her. Emma had hopes she could talk Sloane’s aunt into adopting him, but it was all about picking the right moment.

“And how did it go with Louise?”

Sloane gave her a look that said the teen knew exactly what Emma was doing. “It was okay.”

“On a scale of one being finding matching socks in the morning and ten being an awesome milkshake with your favorite big sister?”

Sloane snort-laughed and the sound warmed Emma from her toes. “You’re such a nerd.”

“Takes one to know one.” Emma’s foot nudged her under the table. “Come on. Are we talking okay, you got through it, or friend potential?”

Sloane hesitated. “She said a bunch of her friends are going to the movies tonight if I wanted to go.”

“That’s great!” Emma beamed.

“You’re weird.” But there was no heat in her words as she stirred the spoon around. She had such a pretty face, all heart-shaped and round cheeks, but it was shuttered a lot of the time. She preferred to hide. Emma could relate.

But that wasn’t good for either of them. Which was why she put up with Leah’s not-so-subtle pushing to challenge herself—and it was in fact Leah who’d given Emma the idea to do the same for Sloane.

“Do you want to go?”

Sloane’s shoulder jerked.

Emma’s lips met and she pressed them together as she studied the young girl. “I know it’s scary,” she said softly.

The teenager at last looked up and her expression was taut. “What if they make fun of me?”

“Why would they make fun of you? Apart from for your poor taste in drinks.”

Sloane didn’t even smile, just listlessly began to stir the drink again. “I’m—I can never think what to say around new people. What if they think I’m weird?”

Yep, this girl was so Emma’s mirror. Her heart ached for her because at least Emma had developed her safe space, had in fact designed her life to suit her for the most part.

---