Page 9 of Spelling Disaster

The air in the main chamber of the library stills until every step I take, every step Mom and Remi take, is in slow motion. There is only the beat and the fog and the pull in my gut unwilling to let me go.

“Mom…” I trail off.

Black dots dance at the corner of my vision, and when I look in their direction, Mom and Remi are partly frozen in place. It’s only me and the sick churning sensation in my gut that I can’t shake.

“I had a vision. There was a book, and it dropped out of nowhere. Mom, I’ve never seen it before.” I have to rush to get the words out, hoping, praying, she’ll finally listen. “The book was strange and when I opened it, the vision came over me. Almost like I’d been meant to find that book. Mom!”

There’s no indication she hears me. Mom’s face is blank, and Remi’s is frozen into a mask of apathy. She’s standing several steps to the side. Too slow. The world is too slow and I’m the only one going at normal speed, with the very abnormal heartbeat of the room. The air itself pulses in time with the sound.

“Do you see this?” I ask her. “What’s going on? Please tell me you see this. The vision wasn’t normal, Mom.”

Remi turns like she’s wading through water, her expression shifting into one of confusion, and doesn’t answer.

My words fall on deaf ears.

I wave a hand in front of her and she slaps it away so she can see me, her time and my time finally colliding. It rushes over me all at once, leaving me breathless. She just can’t—

“What the hell is the matter with you?” she snaps, gaze harsh. “You’re acting really weird, weirder than normal for you, Yas.”

I reach for her again and this time she makes contact. Everything around me is normal again, but her slap does nothing to ease my fears.

“You think because you’re finally old enough to drink that you can somehow have a mental breakdown?” she asks.

“Remi, I had a vision,” I try to say.

“Sure, okay,” she replies, snarkier than ever. “Whatever you say.”

No one will listen. No one will pay me any mind and when I reach out to grab Mom’s shirt, to get her to stop, she keeps going on autopilot.

“Come on, girls,” she commands woodenly. “We need to go.”

I’ve never had the type of magic that allows me to see the future or sense what other people are thinking and feeling. It’s not in my wheelhouse despite my gifts.

I’ve only had my intuition to rely on until now, not that I trust myself. There have always been too many voices in my head, and all of them sound like Mom, telling me she’s the one who makes the decisions.

The one who has to prepare me for whatever I’ll face.

She’s the one I trust. My master.

I’m the apprentice who will never be as confident and powerful as she is. But right now, I’m the only one I’ve got and the world around me has warped.

Rather than stopping and taking stock of the situation, we’re outside in seconds.

Remi falls into step beside me and both of us trail a foot behind Mom.

She leads the way out of the library and the afternoon light turns the entire world golden. Twilight will be on us soon and Mom’s military steps lead across the parking lot toward the trees lining the property edge.

Inside those trees is our sacred circle, the one the coven uses to perform ceremonies. I’ve been there too many times to count but today everything feels changed.

Sweat breaks out along my spine and hairline. My heart throbs faster with each step we take away from the library and I’m about a second away from panicking. Or puking.

Remi calmly walks beside me with her shoulders thrown back and not a care in the world. Her cheeks have blossoms of color, pink against her dusky caramel skin, and her hair longer and wavier than my own.

“Remi, look at me.” I’m begging her. “Look at me and tell me you don’t feel like something isn’t right.”

She shakes her head and keeps walking into the dim hush of the woods.

This isn’t the way things are supposed to go and my family should definitely be able to hear me. To understand me.

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