Page 14 of Big Little Spells

There’s an expression I recognize on my sister’s face. “Were you actually listening during history class? That one time?”

But I don’t take the bait. “We’re supposed to believe no one stands against them because they’re just that benevolent and good. Are they? They’re sending us back to high school. Humiliating us. Belittling us. Playing their little mind games on us. And it’s not like this is the first time. We believed them when they said we had no power as kids—everyone in town believed them. Our own parents believed them. Now, in addition to growing up as supposedly powerless witches, the objects of ridicule in this town, we’ve spent the past ten years paying their prices, not our own.”

Silence descends around the table. It’s not the censuring kind. I can tell everyone is filtering back through their memories, wondering if I’m right. If they fooled us back then. Lied to us. Took advantage of us.

I don’t have to wonder.

There’s not one part of what I’ve said that feels fractured or blurry to me. I know I’m right.

“Just what is it they think we can do?” Georgie asks. Her voice is raspy, and then she clears her throat. “If they want to strip your power and punish you again—and all of us, too—there has to be a reason.”

“Can’t it just be that they’re assholes on a power trip?” Ellowyn asks, chomping on her apple irritably.

“This seems like a lot of work if there’s no ulterior motive,” Emerson says, clearly considering. “We’re threatening.” She looks back at me. “Specifically us. There are plenty of young witches—powerful or not—who they haven’t wiped or exiled. It’s something about us. We’ve always been threatening to them.”

I don’t have any interest in forming covens or participating in Ascension like Emerson, but this all makes me think she’d have a chance. A real chance to beat the Joywood. Why else would they care?

But before we can worry about what we might do in the future or figure out what happened in the past, we have to focus on the present. Last time, we accepted the Joywood’s pronouncements because we didn’t expect them. Everyone else accepted them because it seemed to follow the law, because we’d been set up to look like lifelong weaklings with no real power. Emerson and I were silly enough to believe that we could show the world they were wrong by passing our pubertatum. We thought it would be fair. That there were no decks stacked against us.

This time we know better. All the decks are stacked against us.

“We have to go back to high school,” I say, trying not to wince. “Not to prove that they were wrong about us, but to beat them at their own game.”

Zander lets out a long sigh that matches the pinched look on Ellowyn’s face.

But Emerson, being Emerson, grins. She looks around the table at each of us. “And once we do, we can build a future that looks the way we want.”

I know it’s getting ahead of ourselves, and I know the future Emerson and I want isn’t the same at all, but I can’t help but smile back at her and all her optimism.

Because if I have to be home, might as well make it a home I don’t hate.

We finish our breakfast, and there’s much discussion of the differences in our binders. How much school Emerson and I will be required to attend, while our friends—the accomplices—only have to appear for the more social events of the season.

In so many ways, it’s like the last ten years don’t exist. Like I’ve been here, right here, all along.

Except it’s so clear we’re adults now. With jobs and responsibilities and, most notably, without my parents here to nitpick our every move. Jacob leaves to go take care of his farm chores. Zander mutters about getting some more sleep before his afternoon shift at the ferry and night shift at the bar.

And once they’re gone, like she’s been waiting to broach the subject until they left, Emerson turns her gaze to me. “Once you get ready, we’ll go see Frost.”

Just the name of my immortal makes little pricks of sensation break out deep inside. Not my immortal, I lecture myself, though the teen girl within disagrees. “Why would we be going to see Nicholas, ever, let alone at this ungodly hour?”

“We’re as familiar with the pubertatum as everyone else is, but we failed last time.” Emerson’s voice trips on the word failed just like my heart did on the word home last night. “And I doubt the Joywood will be teaching us what we need to know in these classes. So, we need help.”

“A lot of help,” Georgie agrees.

“If anyone can prepare us,” Emerson continues, clearly her plan and her mind already made up, “Frost can.”

“Nicholas is not the friend you seem to think he is, Emerson. He told you no last night.” I’m careful to keep my tone even. And not at all as intense as I actually feel about my immortal nemesis. I look at Ellowyn, because surely she’ll back me up. She usually does.

Ellowyn rubs her palms over her face. “I don’t trust that arrogant bastard as far as I can throw him. No one becomes immortal for good reasons.”

“But?” I supply for her, because I can feel the but lingering there, and it’s irritating enough to poke at.

Ellowyn’s gaze holds mine. “But he brought you home when we needed you. Even though he said he wouldn’t.”

“And he helped in the flood ritual,” Georgie adds, as if she feels compelled to be fair. “We needed everyone. Like it or not, he’s part of this.”

I want nothing to do with him. Despite the reaction I always have to him. But I also know that going along with Emerson’s plan will be much, much easier than fighting it. I sigh, and Ellowyn smiles at me, because I’m sure she knows where my mind is going.

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