Page 18 of The Neighborhood Witch

“Sam betrayed me. I revealed the one thing I thought I could trust her with, and Sam betrayed me,” Alice said in a raised voice.

The water sloshed back and forth as she swung her other arm around. “Now look. Moving around from place to place, like I was the one who did something wrong. Having to hide out. All of my friends gone, like I never existed. I’m trapped here. And on top of it all, I don’t even have my stuff.” She smacked the water. More bubbles slipped over the side andonto the floor.

“So, why do you want to risk it again?” the mirror asked. “Why take that chance? Because he liked your purple hair? Your purple house?”

Alice set the wineglass down on an invisible shelf above the tub. She leaned back, sinking further down into the water. The bubbles were now up to her chin. She rubbed her eyes before running her fingers through her hair. “He saw me,” Alice responded. “He saw me flying around and didn’t say anything.”

“So? It’s not like he would have brought it up in conversation. ‘Hey, did you see the witch flying around on the broomstick?’ Even I think I sound crazy saying it.”

“Maybe I want to feel some sense of normalcy,” Alice said. “Maybe I wanna be myself.”

“You will,” the mirror assured her. “In time. But right now, the best thing to do is lay low.”

“Easy for you to say,” Alice responded.

“It is easy for me,” the mirror replied. “I’ll be hanging around here all day.”

“Hardy har har,” Alice retorted.

“Come on. Cheer up. I can play you some music,” the mirror said. “Do you want your SAD GIRL IS SAD playlist or the LOVESICK PUPPY one?”

Alice gave the mirror the finger and descended below the bubbles.

Chapter 6

A Neighborhood Welcome

Alice Primrose stepped with a stride of confidence; shoulders pulled back, her pert nose and emerald green eyes tilted toward the bright afternoon sky. An amethyst necklace jostled around with every springy step. She wore a brimmed, black wool hat where the top slightly curved backward into a point. Vibrant, wavy, purple hair emerged from underneath the brim and flowed below her shoulders. She had a sly smile, hiding a secret only she knew, with dark purple lipstick to match.

She wore all black—outside of a gray blouse—that contrasted with her pale complexion. A hooded modern take on the long-sleeved Victorian style tailcoat disguised Alice’s tall, slightly curvy frame. The coat’s pleated skirt, resting below her hips, swayed with every moment. It encircled her long legs, leading to the calf-length tails in back that exposed the purple inner lining matching Alice’s hair.

A black hood bounced on Alice’s shoulders with every step. Her thumbs kept her hands from fully slipping into the coat pockets as she jaunted down the sidewalk. Leather leggings tucked neatly into her thick-soled black boots. Alice loved being a witch. Even thoughshe couldn’t openly proclaim it to the world, she was determined to dress the part.

The town center bustled with activity. Shoppers went as they pleased, not a care in the world. Few stopped and acknowledged Alice as she passed. Some greeted her with a smile. Others greeted her with uncomfortable glances. Alice only returned a smirk and a nod. Some glances lingered. Some gawked—Alice assumed from prior experience—as if they wondered why someone would actively walk around in broad daylight, looking as if they were going to a costume party. Alice continued her journey, paying no attention. She knew who she was, and she was damn proud of it.

The enticing aroma of pumpkin spice leeched into her nostrils. Unmistakable hints of cinnamon and nutmeg. The ecstasy of the sweet pastry’s siren smell compelled Alice inside the bakery. She stopped. Her necklace bounced a few times before coming to a rest. She surveyed through the bakery window, craving the freshly baked pumpkin spice scones sitting inside the glass counter. She had to have one. The cravings turned into near lust.

The bakery was a flurry of activity. Employees rushed to fill orders. A glass display case stretched across one of the longer side walls. The case was filled with a plethora of multi-colored treats that delighted the eyes. Freshly baked bread. Brightly colored cakes. Glistening cinnamon rolls. Festive orange and yellow iced cake pops neatly arranged in a display carousel. Brownies bigger than Alice’s hand. Far too many choices to order in one visit. The enticing smells lingered in the air. The object of Alice’s desire rested in the corner closest to the bakery window—the pumpkin spice scones.

She paid no attention to the odd glances and looks as she approached the display case. Alice turned her attention to a little sign that readEAT MEnext to a serving tray resting atop the case. Sample-sized cupcake liners covered the tray. She picked up one and removed the golden-yellow cookie inside. Alice’s taste buds exploded from the sensory overload of sweet and buttery flavors. She savored the cookie, contemplatinggrabbing another one.

“How can I help you?” a woman behind the display case asked.

Alice rushed to finish the sample. “Those are some good cookies,” Alice responded, covering her mouth to not spill any onto the floor.

“Baked fresh daily,” the bakery employee responded. “Would you like some?”

“A dozen, please. Also, a couple of those pumpkin scones.”

The bakery employee grabbed two brown boxes along the back wall. She packed up the items and carefully placed them into a paper bag. “Twenty dollars,” she said, handing the bag to Alice.

Alice gladly handed over the money, retrieving her prizes.

“Love the costume, by the way,” the bakery employee complimented Alice. “Are you going to a Halloween party?”

“No.”

“Getting into the Halloween spirit?”

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