Page 17 of The Secret Life of a Witch

“Not at all.” She gives me a knowing smile. “You definitely picked the better brother to get a crush?—”

I clap my hands together, cutting her off as Hunter materializes at the top of the stairs.

He startles at the sound and presses his hand to his chest. “What the hell is up with the clapping? Wait. You’re not thinking about going out for the Mystic Willow Bay Star Wizard Cheerleading team again, are you?”

I give him a quick once-over to assess what kind of mood he is in, attempting to see if Claire has divulged that I’m all goo-goo eyes for him or not.

His brows are knit, and his eyes spin with confusion, but I can’t detect an ounce of horror or irritation, so that’s a good sign, right?

“What do you meanagain?” I play dumb. “I’ve never thought about being a cheerleader.”

Hunter looks strangely annoyed. “You’re such a little liar. I saw the brochure in your room.”

Crap. I’m so busted.

“That was an old brochure.” I nervously scratch the side of my neck. “From, like, five summers ago.”

He cocks a brow. “Then why was it dated this year?”

“Umm …” I shrug. “Maybe that one belonged to Ry?”

“Ry wasn’t a cheerleading sort of girl.” He gives a long pause, his brows knitting. “Then again, I thought you weren’t, either.”

“I’m not.”

“So, you weren’t thinking about trying out, then?”

“No … Yes … I mean, no …” Motherload of all babbling witches, what is wrong with me today! I’m usually a pro at lying when I need to. Maybe the stress is messing with my head or something. “Okay, fine, you caught me. Earlier this year, I briefly—and I stress the briefly part—lost my damn mind and considered trying out for the cheerleading team. But after thinking about it for, like, a second, I realized how sucky it would be.”

“Why?” Opal intervenes. “You’re a really good dancer. I’m sure you’d …” She smashes her lips together as I sneak a please-be-quiet look. “Never mind.”

Hunter stares at me like I’m some foreign creature who just sprouted a unicorn horn out of her butt. “Since when do you know how to dance? Last time I checked, you could barely do the chicken dance.”

“She took a bunch of classes throughout high school,” Opal announces then pulls awhoopsface as I glare at her. “Sorry, I forgot it was supposed to be a secret. Although, I still don’t know why you don’t want anyone knowing you’re badass at shaking your ass.”

Because I don’t want to be a badass dancer. I want to be a badass witch like my parents, sister, and even my grandparents.

The only reason I even started taking dance classes was because my mom wanted me to have a hobby outside of magic. While she never flat out said it, I think she hoped that by pushing me away from magic, I’d find something I was actually good at. I guess she was right. I just wish that something else was much cooler.

“It’s not a big deal.” I act all casual and smooth. “And while I’d love to stay here and chat about this some more, I’ve got places to go and a mystery to solve.”

“A mystery to solve?” Opal blinks at me. “Huh?”

“I’ll explain later,” I tell her, though I won’t. How can I when she doesn’t know I’ve been keeping my sister’s dead body in the basement? I’m sure that conversation would go over fantastically. Can you imagine?

Hey, Opal, remember the other day when you said you thought you smelled the stench of rotting eggs and dirty socks flowing through the vents. Well, that was my sister’s rotting body that I’ve been hiding in the basement for a couple of weeksnow. But you didn’t know that because I charmed the basement so you can’t ever find it.

Yep, I’m sure she’d be thrilled to hear that.

Throwing a wave over my shoulder, I start down the stairs and toward the front door. Hunter follows, keeping close to my heels.

“So, a cheerleader, huh?” he mutters. “Who would’ve thought?”

“It’s not that big of a deal.” When I’m at the front door, I reach for the doorknob but pause. “Although, I gotta say, your shock over the idea makes me feel super awesome about myself.” I begin to pull the door open, but he holds it closed.

“I’m not shocked at the idea of you being a cheerleader so much as the idea of you wanting to be one.” He studies me. “It’s just something I can’t picture you wanting to do. And the whole being able to dance thing … How did I not know about this?”

I shrug. “Probably the same way I didn’t know you went to that illuminating/horror/desires place with my sister.” When guilt consumes his eyes, I add, “I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty. I’m just pointing out that maybe we don’t know each other as well as we thought.”

---