Page 23 of Marcus-stiltskin

“Sounds good,” I lie. A now full Freddie K. trots over and demands to be picked up. Rather, I get an image of me holding him in my arms. “Fine, fine,” I say, as I reach down to pick him up.

“Is he talking to you again?” Marcus asks as he follows me down the stairs.

“Yeah, well, he showed me what he wanted.” We walk out through the bay with Freddie K. still in my arms. My slip-ons are sitting by the back door the donkeys escaped from. I step into my shoes and give Freddie K. a scratch behind the ears before setting him back down on the floor.

“Be careful, Sarah.”

I smile grimly, “I will.” I don’t turn back to look, but I definitely get the feeling he stands at the door, watching me walk across the field until I make it home.

Chapter Nine

In Which Our Protagonist Feels Like the College Kid at the High School Party

Monday afternoon comes way too soon for my liking and, before I know it. I’m back at Darla’s incredibly witchy-looking trailer. The pig family is settled in directly on the walking path that leads to the picnic table. I watch in amusement as every teenager entering the yard circles around the pigs, doing their best not to disturb them.

Once we’re all assembled, Darla pulls out a small tray and begins dropping a familiar white box in front of each student. As she walks around the outer edge of the picnic table, Frigg, the not-so-tiny piglet of the pig family, hovers dangerously close to her feet.

“Frigg, you little menace, I don’t have any food. Go sit with Chad.”

Chad lifts his head, hopeful for a moment, only to drop it when he realizes there’s no food either. Porshetta, Frigg’s mom, snores contently in the sun, ignoring us all for her afternoon beauty sleep.

When Darla first brought up the apprenticeship, I imagined something entirely different–a cauldron brewing deep in theforest or late night hours where we learned by the light of the moon, but no. Shania killed that hopeful thought immediately. According to her, since the vast majority of people in their apprenticeship are teenagers, lessons have to be squeezed in between various sports practice schedules, dance team, and marching band.

As expected, I’m the lone weirdo here–a good ten years older than most everyone else.

“Don’t open the boxes until I tell you. I’m Darla, if you didn’t already know, and I’ll be teaching you divination and various introductory skills for your apprenticeship. I want everyone to go around the table, tell us your name, what type of witch you think you are, and a boring fact about yourself.” She starts at the opposite end of the table from me, motioning to a girl with glossy dark hair straight out of a shampoo commercial to start. Between the dark hair and perfect teeth, I’d guess she’s definitely a dance team or cheerleader kid.

“I’m Mariah. I come from a long line of water witches. And my boring fact is I’m cheer captain this year.”

“That’s not a boring fact,” says a girl directly across from her. Both girls have the same eyes and the same adorable nose. The second girl rolls her eyes, readjusting her glasses as she sits tall. “She said a boring fact, Mariah, not a bragging fact.”

“It’s not bragging. It’s boring because everybody knows.”

“Itisbragging,” insists the girl in glasses.

“Darla might not know. That lady might not,” Mariah argues back. I try not to snort at being referred to as “that lady.”

“Ladies,” Darla interrupts, “let’s keep going.”

The person next to Mariah is a tall boy named Aiden. “Aiden. My family is all Earth witches, and I hate beans.”

Darla nods approvingly before nodding to the next kid. “Geneva. Earth witch, too, and I am exactly the same height and weight as my mom.”

Next to Geneva is the girl who argued with Mariah. She looks directly at Mariah as she speaks. “Mackenzie, water witch, and my boring fact is that Mariah’s my pain in the ass big sister.”

“Quit being a bitch,” Mariah retorts.

“You quit being a bitch. I’m not the one bragging to everyone when I was asked to give a boring fact.”

“No, but you are the one looking dumb by making a big deal out—”

“Ladies,” Darla interrupts. She nods in my direction. “Sarah, I don’t know what kind of witch I am…maybe fire? My boring fact is I’m adopted.”

“Why do you think you’re a fire witch?” the girl at my side asks. She’s making her way through a peanut butter sandwich with absolutely nothing to drink. It’s honestly impressive. I could never.

“Uh, well, like I said, I’m adopted. I didn’t know I was a witch, but I was at–” Darla shoots me a warning look and I duck my head so she doesn’t see me smile. “I was at work and a guy got a little too touchy-feely and, well, I accidentally cast ethereal fire on him.”

The girls at the table look impressed. “Darla saved him with the counterspell. After he was gone, she suggested I might be a witch and that I should do an apprenticeship with you guys, so here I am.”

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