As one of the gifts for making her so proud, Mariam fixed Cora's arm with a snap of her sharp, black manicured fingers. Cora winced from the twinge of the charm working, but after she was glad to have a useful left arm again.
She bent it at the elbow. "Thanks."
They were in Mariam's room. As usual, it struck her how clean it was. The walls and bedding were white, with a splash of color from the many pillows on Mariam's bed. The rest of the furniture in the room were a pristine brown. Because Mariam hated to do a lot of cleaning, she kept her room exceptionally tidy. She also hardly ever went into the kitchen, laboratory, where the Emersons made their beauty products.
Her room smelled as if Cora had stepped into a department store's perfume aisle. The clear and opaque bottles ranged from square and squat, to rounded bottoms with tall, slender spouts. Notes of lavender, rose, vanilla, orange, and bergamot combined in an alluring harmony of aromas, so much so it felt a lot like magic.
Cora examined the rows of fragrances sitting on the dresser, as she did whenever Mariam invited her in. She wanted to see if she could spot the newest ones. After a while of trying, she gave up and picked up a bottle with a pink label. It smelled sweet but didn't have Mariam's trademark charm.
Mariam was rifling through her closet. "I know I put it in here."
Cora went to stand by her side. "What is it?"
Mariam's eyes gleamed, and for a moment Cora thought she would bestow upon her a book of charms and spells for ruining a life. It would make her life much easier.
Instead, Mariam said, "Aha," and pulled a dress out of her closet. "Here." She threw it into Cora's chest.
She held it up. It was black, as black as an ex-boyfriend had once presumed Mariam's soul to be. The sleeves were long and there was some netting around the neckline and back. It fell to her ankles. As far as dresses went, it wasn't her type. Most of her dresses were shorter in length and would've been considered cute. This one felt more conventional.
"Don't just stand there." Mariam waved at the mirror. "Try it on."
While she shoved her clothes back into her closet, Cora tried on the dress and gawked at herself in the floor length mirror on the other side of the room. It wasn't as she'd assumed it would be. It wasn't as frumpy as a funeral dress, and it wasn't as constricting as a typical sorceress's dress either. It was sensational. The shoulders had a bit of flair too.
It smelled like Mariam, all glamour and magic.
Her great-grandmother came up behind her. "See, it looks just like it had on me once." She rubbed Cora's arms, sending a thrill rocketing down her back. She was extra magical in this dress.
"Were you wearing this dress when you met him, the one I mean?" In this dress, she thought she could rival anyone. The fabric was warm and fitting against her skin, as if the dress had fashioned itself to her figure. Maybe it had.
Mariam patted Cora's arms some more, smiling at her creation. "I was and it was a girl."
She turned to Mariam as she sat on her bed and took off her shoes. "How old were you?"
"Slightly older than you. About eighteen, I think." She rubbed her ankles. "It was so long ago."
Cora sat next to her. She had so many questions. Despite her lessons, which were just to hone the magic she already possessed, she had so much more to learn. She wanted to know how her great-grandmother had done it, did she have any guilt afterwards, and how bad you had to make someone's life to be considered as wicked as the rest.
Before she could ask any of this, her great-grandmother yawned. "Dear, I'm so tired. It's been such a long day." She massaged her shoulder and groaned.
Cora nodded. "Okay, Granny." She got up and gathered her things. "Goodnight."
Her mother and grandmother were downstairs watching the late-night news. From the hallway above the stairs, she heard the familiar voice of the newscaster announcing that there would be rain on Halloween night. A sliver of light shone beneath her sister's door, so Cora assumed she might've been catching up on homework. She knocked.
"Yes," Willow said.
"It's me," said Cora.
Willow's door opened slowly and creakily, as someone would expect the door of a sorceress's territory to open. She'd already dressed for the night in green polka dot pajamas. She sat crossed legged on her bed, a textbook in front of her. Willow's room had remained the same throughout her childhood, pale blue walls, lacey sheets, and dark furniture. It was a cute room, which always surprised her because Willow wasn't the kind of sorceress who wore blue or lace, the majority of her closet black and white.
Cora sat next to her with her clothes bundled in her lap. The bed groaned under her added weight. "Math homework?"
Willow picked up the book and plopped it in her lap. "We have a test tomorrow."
"Bummer," said Cora.
Willow shrugged. "It's no big deal. I'm going to pass." She took in Cora's new ensemble. What's with the dress?"
Cora picked at the netting on the neckline. "Granny gave it to me. She said she wore it when she met the one."
Willow, who'd been turning a page of her textbook, paused. "Oh." She stared at the book in her lap. "Do you think you're ready?"
This time, Cora shrugged. "I don't have a choice." She got up. "Anyway, I wanted to say goodnight."
"You just did," said Willow, which led to her being hit on the head with a pillow. "You don't have to resort to violence," she said, but she threw a pillow at Cora as she left, missing her entirely.
Still tender from anonymous' comment, Cora didn't check her email before bed as was her routine. She'd forgotten her cell phone in her coat pocket. Dressed in her pajamas for the night, she went down to retrieve it. Her grandmother and mother were still in front of the TV. While her grandmother snored into a throw pillow, her mother sipped even more red wine. The bottle, something cheap and from the supermarket, sat out on the coffee table. Cora, who should have already been in bed, tiptoed to the hall closet.
But Stella had the hearing of a bat. "Cora, is that you?"
"Yes, Mom."
"Why aren't you in bed?"
She was late responding because at that exact moment she saw she had a message from Beau. Her heart leapt. She hadn't expected to hear from him at all or ever see him again. She scrolled through her messages. All of them were old, except one from Eva begging her to reconsider the dance. She clicked on Beau's message.
I know it's a bit strange that I'm texting you so soon. It's not every day a pretty girl saves your life. I wanted to know if you'd like to hang out sometime. I promise I'm not as reckless as I seem. Who knows, we might have a good time.
Let me know. - Beau
She held her cell phone to her chest. She could dance. She could scream at the all-powerful father about how much she loved him, but instead, because her mother sauntered from the living room with her wine glass in one hand and the bottle in her other, she remained composed.
"What are you doing up?" Stella asked.
"I thought I missed a call," she said, but she didn't show her mother her phone. She kept it behind her back, as if Stella would guess that she'd received a message from Beau. "I'm going to bed now." She kissed her mother's cheek. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," said Stella. "Let the bed bugs bite."
Cora allowed herself another grin that reached her eyes. Her mother would have guessed her true feelings lacked all wickedness, so she fought the urge to skip up the stairs. Not even the meekest of them skipped. It wasn't until she was in her room, the door shut behind her, she squealed. She ran to her bed and fell face first across it, filling her nose with fabric softener. She kicked her legs. When she lifted her head, her eyes were blurry.
I can't believe he texted me and wants to hang out. Gosh, what would I wear?
She spat hair out of her mouth. "It doesn't matter. You can't date him." She rolled onto her back, focusing on the shadows the light from a passing car casted across the ceiling. She lifted her phone up to her eyes, as close as she could get to his last words.
Let me know.
"For the love of crows." She turned again, grinning despite her better judgment. "You can't have him. You can't have him. You can't have him." She shut her eyes. "Unless, in the end, you have him in pieces." Though it was well after ten, and she should've been asleep, she allowed her imagination time to conjure up the most appalling of things.
A piece here. A piece there. A snipped finger. Maybe a toe.
The beep of a car unlocking set her in her room again. She sat up, rubbing her eyes free of sleep and an image that would have even the wickedest of them melting into a puddle of shame.
"What are you doing out this late? Come in. It's freezing." Cora's next-door neighbor, Mrs. Campbell's, front gate opened and closed. Her cat Edgar must have gotten out again.
As long as he doesn't wander into our yard.
It was an awful thought, she had to admit, to toss a bucket of water at him if he did.
"I won't be long. Go back to bed, grandma."
Cora angled herself towards the window she'd left open, favoring her bedroom as chilled as a fall leaf, to make sure she hadn't misheard. But surely, no matter how well trained he was, a tabby couldn't talk. Was that Beau? She listened with all the concentration she could muster, her mouth scrunched in that ugly way her mother detested.
"I don't want you to catch a cold," Mrs. Campbell said.
He laughed. "Trust me, I won't."
She bounced off her bed. Hidden behind the folds of the curtain, she watched, by the light of a lamppost, as a boy who looked a lot like Beau rummaged through a pile of junk in the backseat of his car.
"There's a bug going around." Mrs. Campbell continued to press.
"No way," said Cora. But the light couldn't lie. Destiny had done much more than procure her a gull. It left him right on her doorstep.
Beau emerged, brandishing a baseball cap. "Found it." Grinning, he waved it for his grandmother to see.
"That old thing?" Mrs. Campbell asked.
Beau dusted it off and pulled it onto his head. "It's my lucky charm, grandma."
Mrs. Campbell chortled. "You're just like your father, aren't you?"
As if Cora needed more proof of how lucky she'd become. It was one thing to have a gull. It was another that he was close enough to lay a trap. Her breathing hastened. She'd been worrying the skin on her lips away. Beau shut his car door, the headlights flashing once as the doors locked. Halfway to the gate, he paused, looking up. He met her gaze. Or, at least, she imagined he had. She ducked below her window a second too late.
"What are you waiting for? Come in before you catch a draft," Mrs. Campbell said.
"I thought I saw someone," said Beau.
"Drat." Cora continued the assault of her mouth, waiting to emerge. After she'd counted to twenty in her head, she peered out. But both Beau and his grandmother had gone in. She stood to her full height, scanning the area where he'd been.
"Why is the light still on? Cora!"
She yanked the curtain across the window at the sound of her mother's voice. "I'm going to bed now," she said. Before Stella opened the door, she did a charm for the lamp and shoved her legs beneath the covers, only moving again once her mother had retired to her room. She read Beau's message one last time, thinking it would be a shame not to make use of her great, many charms.
Beau's words remained on Cora's mind as she fell asleep.
She woke the next morning hazy eyed and dazed. Someone had been calling her name. She imagined it was Beau at first until Stella Emerson stormed into her room. "Aren't you going to school today? I've been calling you since seven."
Cora fumbled for her phone on her nightstand, saw the time. She was late, more than late in fact. Her first class had already begun. She scrambled from her bed, grabbed some clothes, and ran past her mother for the bathroom.
It took her fifteen minutes to get ready and out of the house. She ran all the way to the bus stop, while tugging on her coat. Her cell phone buzzed, but she ignored it. It was probably Eva wanting to know where she was. It wasn't until she was on the bus that she remembered she hadn't completed her essay for English. It sat incomplete on her computer.
"Drat." She slapped her forehead. Worrying about Beau had made her forget her homework. That's exactly what she got for pining over a boy she didn't know.
Her English teacher, Ms. Brindle, hated tardiness but she hated even more when students didn't turn in their assignments on time. Cora would have to beg her to let her hand it in on Monday. She could have blamed her negligence on her sprained arm and now regretted that she'd had it healed. At her stop, she waited, not so patiently, for the older bus occupants to get off. She found herself bouncing on her toes as Eva would.
Speaking of, her cell phone buzzed with another text from Eva.
Where the heck are you?
Cora, half running and half walking, texted back: I overslept.
She almost ran into someone but didn't bother to apologize. She was too late to care about common courtesy. Besides, another sorceress would have knocked them over and kept running. She stopped to catch her breath at the end of 5th street, the cool, fresh air chilling her pounding heart. She walked the rest of the way in a determined stride.
With five minutes to spare until the end of first period, she made it up the steps and into the building. She shifted her bag from one shoulder to the other and signed her name on the sheet that all late students were required to. The security woman, last name Jacobson, quirked a thin brow as she sipped her coffee.
"Overslept," Cora said.
The security guard nodded. She couldn't afford to miss any classes if she wanted to maintain her GPA. She had no idea why she'd overslept. Outside of her English class, she rested her head against the wall and shut her eyes, thinking about Beau.
What mischief could she bestow upon him?
She smiled. Behind her closed lids, she saw his hands again, the freckles across his nose, his smile, and... She opened her eyes, remembering what her mother said outside the hospital. It's best not to fall for them first.
Who needs boys when you have magic?
If only she could conjure up her English essay, but her powers didn't work that way. The bell rang. Students poured out of their classrooms, filling the halls with prattle. A few of them waved at her, those of them who knew what she was. And in turn, she could tell there was something a bit off about them, moving like their feet never met the ground. She waved back. Their secrets well-kept, wanting to blend in like any other teenager.
Thorne Point was small enough that there was no high school social hierarchy. You hung out with whomever you wanted to, nerd or prom queen, human or werewolf. She was glad for this. She would have never survived the first three years otherwise.
Eva finally came out of the classroom, her notebook clutched to her chest. "There you are. I've got your notes." She pulled out a sheet of paper.
Cora could kiss her, but instead she threw her arms around her in the tightest hug. "Thanks." Once again, the ever-studious Eva had gone out of her way for her, adding to the list of reasons she could never take their friendship for granted.
"No problem." Eva pushed up her glasses. "We have a test on Monday."
Cora tipped her head back and groaned. She hoped this weekend would be less about school and more about her and Beau, not in a romantic sense but in a "I need to figure out how to ruin his life" sense.
"I see you've decided to join us, Ms. Emerson." Ms. Brindle stuck her head out of her classroom.
Eva squeezed Cora's arm. "See you later." She hurried off to her next class, probably not wanting to catch Ms. Brindle's wrath.
Ms. Brindle flicked a finger and Cora followed her in. The smell of chalk dust had settled in the air, tickling her nose. Ms. Brindle, although younger than most of the teachers at Thorne Point, wasn't a teacher you'd want to cross, so lying wouldn't work on her. Cora would have to be honest.
Ms. Brindle sat at her desk and sighed. Her sighing was either because of Cora or because her swollen belly couldn't quite fit under her desk. She had to sit at a tilt.
She took up a stack of papers and arranged them into a neat pile. "Ms. Emerson," she began breathlessly. These days she was always out of breath, even when sitting. She'd be on maternity leave soon. "Ms. Emerson," she said again, studying her with those frosty, gray eyes. "You missed my class, but I suppose you have a good reason." She smooshed her pink painted lips together, waiting for Cora's response.
"I'm so sorry. I overslept." Cora bent her knees, hand over her heart, hoping it would make her appear more innocent.
"And your essay?"
Cora shook her head. "I forgot it at home." It wasn't the complete truth, but it did sound better than I forgot to finish it.
Ms. Brindle nodded in that methodical way people did when they saw right through your crap.
"Please let me hand it in on Monday." She'd taken a step forward; another gesture she hoped showed how much she cared.
Ms. Brindle had always been her favorite teacher. In her English class, they read everything from Jane Austen to Sylvia Plath. Even some newer authors. All of which Cora didn't care for as much as Ms. Brindle's impeccable patience.
"Please," she said again.
"All right," Ms. Brindle said. "Have it on my desk first thing Monday morning, or better yet email it to me. You do have my email address?"
"Yes," Cora said, but she'd hoped to have more time.
Ms. Brindle gestured at the door, dismissing her.
She dashed to her next class, feeling like her life was one big marathon. So much rode on how well she did this year. She had to be a good sorceress or else. She had to be a good student or else. There was no compromise, nothing in between.
She wished for summer to come. She wished for her eighteenth year when all of this would be behind her. Sometimes she let herself think it; maybe her life would be better if she'd been born into another family.
Maybe her life would be better without magic.
The day went by in a blur of even more homework and more exams. "Make this year count," one of Cora's teachers had said. Little did he know "make this year count" had been her motto first. By lunch, she had decided maybe she would run away after all.
She and Eva sat at their usual table in the noisy cafeteria, both of them picking at their onion rings. Right next to them were two other girls from the student council, Sofie Baker and Hartleigh Richmond. Cora liked them well enough, but they were mainly Eva's friends.
"I've been thinking we should have a theme for prom." Hartleigh picked up an onion ring, tore it in half, and popped one piece in her mouth. She licked her pale lips. "I just can't figure out what kind of theme."
"No one does prom themes anymore." Sofie had her compact mirror out and was readjusting her bangs, clipping them off to one side with a pink bobby pin that said bonjour. At four-foot-eight, she barely came up to Cora's waist. No one would think much of it at first, but Cora had guessed her secret the first day they met.
If it wasn't for the fact her feet never touched the floor while sitting, her curved ears, hidden under a dark mop of cantankerous hair, and pointed nose gave her away. Her inexplicable beauty proof that she was indeed part elf. Whether Sofie knew was questionable. Magical beings could spot each other in ways humans couldn't detect, a slight divergence in the air around them, a peculiarity in the way they moved.
Sofie hadn't given Cora reason to believe she knew sorceresses existed or that she was having lunch with one.
"We can bring it back. What do you guys think?" Hartleigh popped the other half of her onion ring into her mouth. "Wouldn't it be cool if we could have it in winter?" She swept her hands through the air, pantomiming a rainbow. "It could be a winter wonderland."
"That sounds great actually." Eva took a notebook out of her bag and scribbled what Hartleigh had said into it.
"I can see it now. It would be gorgeous." Hartleigh clapped. The stack of multicolored bracelets on her arm jingled.
Sofie shut her compact and tossed it into her bag. "Where's the location this year again?"
"Some hotel downtown," Eva said. "But I doubt it'll be anywhere glamorous."
"Last year my cousin had hers at the Dovewood," said Sofie. She said it in the way someone would spill a secret, in a hushed voice. "They even had a celebrity DJ."
Every mouth at the table fell open, except Cora's. She wasn't into planning school events or going to them, even if prom was an appropriate reason to get glammed up. She opened her box of chocolate milk and downed half of it so fast that she coughed, spitting it up down the front of her blouse.
"Jeez, are you okay?" asked Sofie, who'd leaned away during her coughing fit
"Oh, drat." She swiped at the stain with a tissue.
It was only a splotch, but chocolate milk down the front of her blouse was the perfect excuse to leave the table. It wasn't as if she had much to contribute to the discussion either way. "I'll be back." She pulled her tote bag onto her shoulder.
By the time she turned away, the girls had already gone back to their discussion about prom, this time about decorations in the way of fake snow, snowflakes, and icicles dangling from the ceiling. Cora couldn't think about prom right now, not when she could lose her magic in a few months. To her the whole idea was frivolous, a pretty dress she would only use once, a date with a classmate she didn't even like, and photos that would be embarrassing later on. How could anyone expect her to care?
In the bathroom, she went into a stall and sat on the toilet seat. Tomorrow was Halloween. The traditional ritual would begin at midnight when the lines between the magical and practical blurred. She'd say Beau's full name in the presence of the other Emersons, then indulge in a slice of cake to celebrate. There'd be no reversing that she'd picked him after that.
Until Beau's heart had broken, she would be the sorceress on his shoulder. Ruin his life. Break his heart. It all came to the same thing. She had to hurt him.
She pulled her legs up and pressed her cheek against her knees. She didn't want this, but she did. It was like having to choose between her two favorite flavors of ice cream. It was like she'd been told she could only have one slice of cake on her birthday.
Cora didn't want this. It made her heart hurt; her stomach seize up. It made her fingers tingle. It sent a buzz down her spine. She did want this. She shut her eyes. Why hadn't she been born one or the other? Good or bad? Both were torture.
Her bag shook with the vibration of her cell phone. Thinking it was Eva wanting to know if she was all right, she retrieved it. His name popped up on the screen. She didn't have to read his message to know that by ruining his life, despite not knowing him yet, she would break her heart. The weight of all of this was too much to bear, so she cried, tears tumbling down her face buried in her lap in case she wasn't alone. If her mother could have seen her, she would have gone all stony eyed. Cora pictured it in her mind.
Do I have to remind you of what you are? The Emersons have done this for generations. You won't change that. Now pick yourself up.
As if she had heard her mother's voice, Cora did wipe her tears away. She read Beau's message, a feel better soon e-card. It didn't make her feel better.
She texted: Sorry it took me so long to get back to you. I would like to hang out, but not this weekend. Thanks for the card. - Cora
Sorry, Mom, but I'm doing this my way.
She wouldn't have to ruin his life if they didn't see each other. That was her plan. She would avoid him as much as possible. It wasn't like they went to the same school or anything. His grandmother might live next-door, but she could be stealthy at avoiding her neighbors. She didn't know him. He didn't know her.
For his sake, she'd have to keep it that way for as long as she could.