Page 30 of Witches of Honeysuckle House
Florence knew this time of year was hard for her mother. Her own mother, Florence’s grandmother, had died the same day Florence was born. But Florence thought, maybe one day, her birthday would change things. That her mother would celebrate Florence, who was right there in front of her, not mourn the grandmother Florence had never met.
That had yet to happen, so Florence would rather skip the whole affair if it meant Linda Caldwell stayed closer to overcast than full-on thunder. Her dad, at least, had a constant sunny disposition, and birthdays only made him shine brighter. Most years, Florence tried her best to mirror his enthusiasm, but this year was different. As soon as October rolled around, Florence had felt an unease start in the center of her chest—where she most often felt her magic—and witheach day that brought her closer to turning thirteen, it grew worse, like she had become the sky in the moments before a lightning strike.
When her father gave her a crisp ten-dollar bill to spend however she wanted after the bus dropped her off from school, and with it, permission to ride into town on her bike with Evie at her side, she couldn’t help but smile a little.
The cool fall air rushed against her as she pedaled toward Main Street, her sneakers a blur of blue and her flannel puffed out behind her. She held onto her backward ball cap with one hand and gripped the handlebar tight with the other.
“Florence!” Evie cried. “You’re going too fast!”
She slowed her speed and turned, circling back to where she’d left Evie several yards behind, her training wheels moving as fast as they could to keep up, and her cheeks pink with the effort.
“Don’t worry,” Florence said as she brought her bike alongside her little sister. “I won’t leave you behind.”
“I can’t go as fast as you,” Evie huffed.
Florence reached across the space between them and adjusted the sunflower on the front of Evie’s denim hat. “Once we get you out of those training wheels, I’ll be the one asking you to wait up.”
The sisters bought as much candy as they could with ten dollars, then took their bounty to the little park off Main Street. The sweetgum trees looked like bonfires with their orange-red leaves, providing cover for the cardinals that flitted from branch to branch, their song the perfect backdrop for a perfect day.
Angela already sat under one of the trees with a blanket spread out for the three of them. She leaned back against the trunk and crossed her ankles, the soles of her combat boots facing skyward, and the orange of her dress matching the leaves overhead.
Florence’s mom had homeschooled her and Evie most of their lives, but last fall, her dad had insisted they send Florence to school to be around kids her age. She mostly hated it. The other kids were nice enough, but no one seemed to want to get close to a witch. But afterAngela had gotten a bad grade on a test, Florence offered to study with her and dipped her a candle to help her focus. They’d been inseparable ever since.
Evie let her bike drop to the ground with a crash before jumping on the blanket, landing on all fours, and pulling her backpack free. She managed to unzip it and dump the candy out before Florence had even finished carefully resting her bike against Angela’s.
“I got two pink ring pops and a blue one because I remember you said you liked the blue one, but if you’d rather have the pink, you can have mine,” Evie said all in one breath.
“Blue is perfect,” Angela said, as she took the offered candy ring. Then she jumped up and grabbed Florence in a fierce hug. Sometime between April and September, Florence had grown six inches and now towered over Angela, all elbows and knees.
“Happy birthday!” she said into Florence’s side.
“Almost birthday,” Florence said. “I wish you could come over tomorrow and celebrate.”
Evie shook her head. “Mom’s in one of her moods.” It was a phrase she’d picked up from their father. “Doubt it’ll be over by tomorrow.”
“I don’t know why my mom’s so worried about it. If there really was—”
But whatever Angela said was lost on Florence as her ears started to ring. When she looked back at Angela, her mouth was still moving, but Florence couldn’t make out the words. She’d gotten used to her hearing going in and out over the years—a trait she and her sister shared.
She stuck a finger in her ear, thinking maybe that would help even though it never did, to find Evie was shaking her head.
“—you’d tell me,” Angela finished. “Wouldn’t you?”
“Tell you what?” Florence asked.
“Did you hear anything I said?” Angela asked.
But Florence shook her head. “Ears were ringing.”
Angela pursed her lips. “They seem to do that every time I bring it up.”
“Bring what up?” Florence asked.
“I know I hardly mention it,” Angela said. “All the kids at school whispered about it when you started. The first time I asked you about it, I thought maybe you were acting like you couldn’t hear me because you didn’t want to talk about it. But tomorrow’s the thirteenth.”
“My birthday,” Florence said.
“Yes and …” Angela trailed off. “I think maybe your mom doesn’t want you to know. Could she do something like that? Light a candle to keep you from hearing something?”
