Page 21 of The Secret Life of a Witch

I do as he says, lightly touching the tip of my wand to the peak of his forehead.

With a deep breath, he utters the spell softly. I open my mouth to repeat the chant and try not to totally lose my cool as he covers his hand over mine and holds my wand with me. His eyes are trained on mine, which only takes my nerves up to an eleven hundred. Somehow, though, I manage to get the entirespell out coherently, and enchanting sparks twinkle from the end of my wand to spread across his head. Blond strands of hair begin to regrow until no bald spots remain on that pretty head of his.

I’m just about to smile when the end of my wand wheezes and the sparks sputter out into smoke, the spell gone awry.

I frown. “Aw, crap.”

EVALEE

Ten minutes later, Hunter and I are parked in front of theMystic Willow Bay Dailynewspaper. The silence that has stretched between us since we left the park is maddening, but I don’t dare open my mouth. No, after what I did, I need to wait for him to speak first.

He silences the engine and slants forward to examine his reflection in the rearview mirror, something he hasn’t done since we got in the truck. Then he runs his hand over the top of his head, flattening his hair down.

“Well, it could be worse,” he finally says, turning toward me with the sweetest smile. “I could still be bald.”

My shoulders hunch forward. “Don’t try to coddle me. I screwed up big time and now you have short, black and blue hair. And for who knows how long.”

“I’m not trying to coddle you,” he insists, reaching across the seat to take my hand. “It really isn’t that horrible.”

“Really?” I question skeptically. “Even though there’s no blond left or length?”

He gives a half-shrug. “I’ve been meaning to cut it, anyway. It was becoming too hard to maintain.”

“Hunter, you’ve been obsessed with having your hair long ever since we were in middle school.”

“Well, I’m not in middle school anymore, am I?” He rubs his hand over his cropped hair. “And this … This could be cool, right?”

I nod truthfully. “It looks very punk rock.”

He smiles thoughtfully. “Huh. I never thought I could pull that kind of look off.”

“Well, you definitely can.” I pick at my chipped fingernail polish. “I’m sorry for screwing up … again.”

“This isn’t your fault.” He gently squeezes my hand. “I’m the one who asked you to do the spell. If anything, it’s my fault. I should’ve helped you more or just lived with the bald spots.” He wavers his head from side to side. “Nah, I take that back. I’d way rather have blue hair than be bald.”

I smile, but the move is excruciating. Why can’t I, just once, be an awesomely skilled witch?

Suddenly, my thoughts backtrack to something strange.

I straighten in the seat. “Hey, off the subject, but did you hear anything the demon said to me?”

He shakes his head. “I lost my hearing when he blasted me with the curse. Why? Did he say something odd?”

I nod then give him a quick recap of what the demon said.

“He called you weirdly beautiful,” Hunter mumbles after I finish.

I rest my elbow on the back of the seat. “Yeah, I wasn’t too impressed, either. But I think that was probably the least important thing he said.” When Hunter hesitates to agree, I ask, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” He tugs at the ends of his sleeves. “It just kind of seems like he was hitting on you.”

I bark out in laughter. “Ha! Yeah, right!”

“Why is that so funny?”

“Because a demon—or anyone, for that matter—would never hit on me.”

Now Hunter is the one to laugh. “You think no one’s ever hit on you before?”

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