Page 13 of Practically Witches

“Do they know if she’s going to be okay?” The story the cops are giving us might not be the entire story. I’m curious.

“If she’s been drained by a syphoner, the only way she gets her power back is if the syphoner is killed.” Zane’s voice is soft, as if he’s trying to break the news gently. But there’s no gentle way to say this kind of thing. Not to a bunch of vulnerable witches. “If she expended the magic on her own to summon outside the safety of the Institute, her magic’s gone.” He shrugs like it doesn’t matter, but the change in his voice means something. It might mean he’s closer to Rowen than I thought.

Before I can ask him how well he knows her, Aimee walks up, wide-eyed but smiling. Usually, there isn’t anyone around me when she comes to find me, but she knows all of these people. They’re her crowd, her friends.

She cocks an eyebrow. “Making friends, I see.”

“You know me. I’m a joiner.” Nothing could be further from the truth. The last thing I joined voluntarily was Girl Scouts in second grade.

She laughs. “We should probably get home, RJ.”

I give a slight head shake, still smiling at her so if anyone happens to look over, they won’t know we’re arguing. “I’m not ready yet.”

“Mom—”

I don’t want to have this conversation right now. It’s humiliating to be as old as I am and have mymommygrounding me. No one has ever paid attention to me at this school. And now that they are, I don’t want to go back to being anonymous and invisible. Turns out, I like being seen.

No one needs to think of me as a baby whose Mom sends me to my room and grounds me. Especially people who have just now noticed that I’m alive.

I don’t want to risk it evaporating by leaving. Anonymous had served me well up until now, but I am ready to step out of my shell.

“Mom will be fine, Aims.” My tone is smooth. Practiced, even. I’ve used it on her so many times in the past, I would think she would have developed an immunity, but it still works. And as far as I’m concerned, this conversation is over. I’m an adult. Capable of deciding for myself.

Zane glances at me and smiles. “We’re going to go to the beach. Do you guys want to go?”

I look at Aimee. She shakes her head at the same time I nod. But I throw in a pleading smile then mouth the word, “please.”

She shakes her head again, and it pisses me off. I shouldn’t have to beg her. I always go with her when she wants me to go. “I’ll just go alone.”

She sighs, and I know I’ve won, but I don’t dare gloat at her because I want her to go along. I want her with me. She’s my best friend, and Ialwayswant her with me.

When she gives a small nod, I clap my hands together before I turn to Zane. “We would love to.”

He grins. “You can ride with me and Dylan.”

I can hear my mother’s voice in my head. She’s been telling me since I was a kid not to accept rides from people I hardly know, and we might not all be best friends, but I know these people.

And she’s not here.

Chapter

Seven

Zane walks beside me to his Jeep and guides me to the passenger side. “You can sit up here.” He shoots Dylan a look as Dylan opens the door for Aimee.

She’s not wholly comfortable with them but no way is she going home. She would never leave me alone with people we hardly know. When Dylan climbs in back with her and Zane starts the Jeep, I look back at her. She’s not smiling but she would never complain out loud, whereas I would be shouting it out the windows and doors and the open top.

He pulls into a parking lot at a part of the beach that’s closer to our home—walking distance actually—so we can stay for a little while longer than we would if we had gone to one of the other coves nearby.

I hold the seat up for Aimee, and she smiles but she’s angry, simmering with it just below her skin. I sling my arm through hers and walk to stand in front of the front bumper and look at the water rolling onto the sand.

There’s a light wind blowing off the beach and thesmell of the sea and suntan oil is strong here. Maybe it’s my imagination, but this is the kind of day that begs suntan lotion.

“Dylan’s cooler is in the back of the Jeep. You guys can help yourselves while we get wood for the fire.” It’s like he’s talking only to me, like the words are meant for my ears only. He’s just a guy, for fuck’s sake, but I can’t stop smiling.

“It’s not dark or cold,” Aimee grumbles. “We don’t need a fire.”

I’ve never seen her in such a mood, and I ignore it for now. I’ve let her drag me along to poetry readings and musicals and places that I would rather people not know I went, and I’ve always tried to keep my complaining to a minimum, so I’m going to let her have this.

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