Diary of Anna the Girl Witch 1: Foundling Witch (6 page)

I couldn’t wait any longer.

I packed away my books and left the garden. At the gate, I hesitated. Leaving the Collège grounds during school hours was not allowed. I could get suspended from school for it. Normally, I’m a stickler for rules, but I thought it would be a worse offense to sneak out of the dorm at night again. So, I looked left and right, opened the squeaky garden gate, and dashed down the path.

In town, I kept my head down in case an adult from school was running errands at the shops and might recognize me. But I was lucky; no one saw me. I hurried through the park, ran across the bridge, and tumbled in a heap on the grass below my special oak tree and the Bear Paw boulder. The candle and its holder were right where I’d left them under the bushes, but the box of matches was damp. Good thing I’d brought a spare.

I lit the candle and dug Squire out of my backpack. Holding the hand carving over the flame, I watched closely. I wanted to see the exact moment when he went from an inanimate carving to a live hand. But, like last time, it happened with a
pop!
I had blinked my eyes and missed it. Suddenly, Squire was floating in front of me again.

And he dove at me.

Poke!

One of his big, hairy fingers poked me in the side. Then he zoomed back and waited, bobbing like a duck at sea.

“What was that for?” I asked.

He poked me again. And again.

“Stop that!” I laughed. “It tickles!”

Squire nodded a yes. He was trying to tickle me! So, my new friend had a mischievous side. He picked up a pinecone and tossed it to me. I caught it and tossed it back. He nodded as if that were exactly what he wanted. We played catch for a few minutes; then I decided we needed to get serious.

“I brought pen and paper this time,” I said. “Can you answer some questions?”

Squire dropped the pinecone and nodded. I opened my three-ring binder that held all of my study notes, turned to a fresh page, and handed him the pen. It looked tiny in his big grasp.

Now that I had the opportunity to find out about my parents, the questions in my mind were endless. I didn’t know where to begin.

“Okay. Let’s start easy. What was my mother’s name?”

Squire wrote quickly. His handwriting was beautiful, like calligraphy, all swirling tails and fat, rounded letters.

“Malyshka,”
he wrote in Russian.

“
Malyshka
? That can’t be her name.”

But Squire nodded. I recognized that word. Uncle Misha had often called me “
malyshka
.” It wasn’t a name any more than “darling” was. I sighed and tried a different question.

“What about my father? Do you know his name?”

Squire shook from side to side so fast that I suspected he knew more than he was saying. So far, this wasn’t going well.

“Do you know where I come from?”

Squire carefully traced his elegant letters again: “
Russia
.”

Well, I already knew that. “Where do you come from?”

“Home,”
he wrote.

“Where’s home?” I asked.

“With Knight.”

Knight? Was that a person? I was starting to think that Squire was talking nonsense. Maybe he wasn’t as aware as I had thought he was.

“Who is Knight?”

“My other half. We are a pair.”

Of course! Where there was one hand, there had to be a match. “Do you know where Knight is?”

“No.”
He paused; then he continued,
“I miss him.”

Poor Squire. He hung in the air limply. I could imagine his sadness. If I were a hand, I’d feel terrible without my match too.

“Maybe if you help me find out about my mother, we’ll find Knight too,” I said.

Squire seemed to brighten up at this. I asked him a bunch of other questions about my mother: Where did she live? How old was she? Was she still alive? But Squire couldn’t answer any of them. I tried not to get frustrated.

“Do you know what my mother meant by my destiny being great? And what do I need to learn about myself?”

Squire scrawled out the words: “
You are a witch.”

“What? No way!”

He wrote more. “
Your mother was a witch. Your grandmother is a wi—”

Before he could finish writing, a cold gust of wind blew through the trees, tearing the binder from my hands. It slammed into the ground, opening the three rings. Another blast of wind rattled the branches overhead and scattered my study notes across the grass and into the trees.

“My papers, no!” I screamed when I saw all my hard work being lost. “Freeze!”

And the papers did exactly that. They froze, some in midair, others standing on end in the grass. The wind died down as if it had never been.

“What the…?” My heart was pounding in my chest. What had happened? Had I done it again? All I’d done was yell “Freeze!” If that was magic, shouldn’t I have felt something, like a zap? And didn’t witches need spells to cast magic? Screaming “Freeze!” hardly seemed like spellcasting.

But that is just what had happened at the beach too, when Jean-Sébastien had almost ruined my cake. Only that time, I had frozen everything and everyone around me. This time, only the papers were frozen. The leaves still shook in the trees above me. Squire still bobbed around too.

Maybe I was already getting better at this magic thing without knowing it?

Squire was rushing around collecting the papers, so I turned my attention to helping him. I grabbed one of the pages that hung suspended in the air, expecting it to be rigid. But when it touched my fingers, it fluttered easily into my hand.

We gathered all the papers and reordered them in my binder. When we came to the page with Squire’s writing, he jabbed at the second-to-last line.

“You are a witch.”

“That’s ridiculous. There has to be some other explanation.”

I thought about Jean-Sébastien and his snake that had turned into a scarf. I thought about the wet and muddy cuffs on my pajamas. I sat on the grass with my knees drawn up to my chest.

I couldn’t really be a witch – could I?

Squire seemed to recognize that I needed a bit of time to think. He busied himself with collecting pinecones into a big pile.

The dream stone was warm against my chest. I held it up and scoped the moon through the hole in the stone. It was only last year that I realized that not everyone saw the moon all the time.

I had made a fool of myself in science class. The teacher had explained about the orbits of the moon and the sun and why we could only see the moon at certain times of the day and month.

“But I can see the moon every day!” I piped up. “Look, there it is, right now.” I pointed out the window.

Some of the other kids snickered. My science teacher frowned.

“Good joke, Anna,” Jean-Sébastien said as if he wished he’d thought it up himself.

I shrank back in my chair, wondering what was going on.

Now I was a whole year older and smarter, smart enough to keep my mouth shut about the odd things I see, like the moon, and my dreams about running with bears. Uncle Misha had told me that there is more to this world than what we see with our eyes or hear with our ears.

“Sometimes, we see and hear with our hearts,” he’d said. And I believed him. So while the whole science of the moon and the solar system made sense to my head, I let my heart see the moon and kept it my secret.

Maybe I really was a witch.

Squire was perched on top of his pile of pinecones. I stood and walked toward the river. Like a faithful dog, he followed me, toppling his tower of cones. He still held one in his grasp. He tossed it up and caught it again and again. I wondered if he was nervous.

I certainly was.

At the edge of La Fourche River, I raised my hands and yelled, “Freeze!”

I wasn’t sure what to expect. Maybe the water would stop like ice. Of course, that would have been impossible. There were thousands of liters of water – maybe millions – in that river, all flowing downstream from the mountains. I couldn’t freeze it all with one word – and nothing happened to it.

I turned my attention to the leaves on the trees. They were young spring shoots, and they shook in the light wind.

“Freeze!” I said again, this time putting as much authority as I could into the word.

Nothing.

Now I was feeling frustrated and just a bit silly. If I was a witch, I wasn’t a very good one. It was time to go home.

“How do I… uh… turn you off?” I asked Squire. “I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s not a good idea for anyone to see you like this.”

Squire nodded and grabbed the pen again. “
Just say: ‘Sleep, Squire
,’” he wrote.

I nodded and almost said the words.

“Wait! One more thing: Is there any other way to wake you besides fire?”

Squire shook as if saying “no” and wrote, “
Only flames
.”

“All right. Sleep, Squire.” The hand dropped out of the air like a stone. I caught him before he hit the ground.

That night, while I lay in bed, trying to go over my notes for my grammar exam, I kept turning back to the page with Squire’s writing. The paper was dirty from being blown about the forest floor, and some of the writing was smudged. Hence, I didn’t notice one glaring detail until I had read it three times.

Squire had written, “
Your grandmother is a wi—”

He had probably meant to write that my grandmother was a witch too. But he hadn’t written “was.” He had written “is.”

My grandmother was still alive.

D
ear Diary
,

I continue trying to access my witch powers when no one is looking. On Tuesday, I finished my grammar exam early (I’m sure I got an A!) and spent the rest of the hour trying to make my pencil move with nothing but my mind.

I decided that pencils are cosmically heavy. Oh, well, I will keep trying.

Jean-Sébastien is going to be a problem. When I came back from the forest on Monday, he was waiting for me at the garden gate.

“I’m pretty sure that leaving school grounds is a big no-no,” he said with a grin. “I’ll bet Sister Constance would be curious to know what you were doing in town all this time.”

I’d tensed up when he first spoke, but then I relaxed. “In town”: He hadn’t followed me into the woods. That was a relief. Now I just had to keep him from squealing on me for leaving campus.

“What do you want, Jean-Sébastien?” My heart fluttered as I thought he might ask for Squire. There was no way I could hand him over (pardon the pun). Jean-Sébastien narrowed his eyes in that way he has when he’s trying to solve a problem. He really shouldn’t do that. It’s not a good look for him.

“I don’t know what I want just yet,” he said. “But having the great Anna Sophia owe me a favor is worth keeping your secret, for now.”

Perfect. Now I owe Jean-Sébastien a favor. That could lead to all kinds of trouble. And what did he mean by “the great Anna Sophia” anyway. He made it sound like I’m stuck up or something. The boy is infuriating.

I
put
my pen down with a sigh. The exam week was finally over, and my hand ached from all the intense writing. I wanted to record all the ways I’d tried to manifest my magic powers this week. But it was nearly six o’clock, and Marie would be here soon to pick me up for my sleepover with Gaëlle.

I dumped my books out of my backpack and filled it with pajamas, a toothbrush, and a spare set of clothes for tomorrow. I almost brought my mother’s letter but felt it was too precious to risk losing. I was excited to tell Gaëlle all about it though I still hadn’t decided how much to let on about my new magic powers. She might not believe me. As an afterthought, I added Squire to the bag in case I needed proof that I wasn’t completely crazy.

Downstairs in the lobby, Lauraleigh waited through one of Sister Constance’s lectures.

“You drive at the speed limit, young lady. Not a kilometer faster.” Sister Constance pounded the floor with her cane for emphasis. “And you have these girls home by ten tonight, or this will be the last time I agree to such nonsense.”

Lauraleigh had learned to drive last year. Like me, she had a trust fund; hers was governed by her grandfather. He had allowed her to take out enough money to buy a car. Not that she got to drive it much; Sister Constance was a stickler for curfew, which was normally nine o’clock. I was amazed that she was letting Lauraleigh stay out later tonight.

“Where are you going?” I asked. Three of our dormmates stood beside her. Jodi, Yvette, and Marjorie were all dressed up. So was Lauraleigh, now that I noticed. She was wearing a deep blue dress that looked fabulous with her pale hair. “Is there a party somewhere?”

“Yes, of course. At Irvigne Manor,” Lauraleigh said. “Weren’t you invited?”

“Uh, yes, I was. But I thought…” I thought I was going to have a quiet night alone with Gaëlle. Marie had promised, but I should have known better. Whatever Marie wanted, Marie got.

“Are you all going?” I asked.

“Everyone is going to be there!” Jodi chimed in. “It’s in a real castle!” she exclaimed.

I wished I could muster some of her excitement. Instead, I felt a sense of dread as if that dark shadow already had its arms around me.

Marie waited outside. Beatrice sat in the front seat of the convertible, and Sister Daphne stood beside the car.

“There’s our girl!” Marie beamed when she saw me. “But you forgot your party dress! No matter. I’m sure I have something just your size at home. We’ll have fun dressing you up, won’t we?”

“I guess,” I said, opening the rear door.

“You’ll keep an eye on Beatrice, won’t you, dear?” Sister Daphne asked. “Make sure she doesn’t eat too many sweets, or she’ll get a tummy ache.”

“Of course,” I said.

We sat in the car for a few minutes while Sister Daphne chatted with Beatrice, reminding her to be on her best behavior.

“Are we waiting for someone?” I finally asked. Then my worst nightmare appeared. Jean-Sébastien and Luca rounded the corner and hopped into the rear seat without opening the doors.

“Boys! That’s no way to get into a car,” Sister Daphne scolded, though she couldn’t hide a grin. Why did she always think that Jean-Sébastien and Luca were so cute?

“That’s how they do it in the movies,” Luca said.

Marie just laughed. “I think they were quite manly, don’t you, Anna Sophia?”

Uh-huh
.

“That’s just what we need around the castle, some dashing young men,” Marie said as she started the car.

Great. And what I needed was for this night to be over.

Marie drove like a drunken racecar driver, and we arrived at Irvigne Manor long before Lauraleigh and her group. I had to admit, the place looked pretty spectacular. Paper lanterns trailed up the driveway. They were just beginning to glow as the sun set. Candles were lit in every window of the enormous house. I resisted the urge to look at it through my dream stone again. If there was a huge shadow hovering over the castle, I didn’t want to know about it. Maybe it was cowardly of me, but I didn’t want to creep out so early after our arrival. Somehow, I felt that I would have enough chances to do that later.

Inside, the main foyer was decorated with streamers and balloons. As usual, Marie had set up a whole slew of games. Tonight, the theme seemed to be a carnival. A massive pair of doors was open at the end of the parlor, showing the ballroom all decked out with game booths. Attendants waited for guests to try Whack-a-mole, darts, skee-ball, and more. Every booth had dozens of stuffed toys hanging above for prizes.

“Ooh! Can we go play?” Beatrice asked, her eyes sparkling.

“Of course, my dear,” Marie said. “Irvigne Manor is all about fun. Now go win yourself a giant teddy bear!”

“Are you coming, Anna?” Beatrice asked, and skipped away without waiting for my answer.

I followed her, but more slowly. We were the first guests, and I wanted a chance to see the house before the others arrived.

Candace was busy ordering everyone around as usual. I’d had only one class with her this year, but that was enough to learn that she was a pain. Like her mother, Candace got everything she wanted, but she didn’t have Marie’s charm. Candace was just plain bossy.

“Put that platter on the table,” she yelled at Mei, who struggled under the weight of an enormous platter. “Not
that
table, the
other
one. And make sure it’s straight in the middle!”

Poor Mei! She didn’t look happy. Along with Gaëlle and six other girls, she had been adopted by the Montmorencys. I liked Mei. She was small and quiet, with straight black hair and beautiful almond-shaped eyes. At the orphanage, she had always been kind to the younger kids, me included. She’d been adopted two years ago, but she wasn’t a student at the Collège or in any of the town’s public schools, as far as I could tell. I wondered what she’d been doing all that time. Was she being homeschooled? I watched her disappear down a long hallway that probably led to the kitchen. Soon she returned carrying more food and looking flushed as if she’d had to run. How many people had Marie invited?

“Hi, Mei.”

She almost dropped the platter of sandwiches; I must have startled her.

“Oh. Hi, Anna.” Her eyes darted across the room to where Candace and Marie were arguing about the music selection, then back to me. “What are you doing here?”

“I was invited. I mean, it’s a party, right?”

“Right. Of course.” She frowned. That was strange. I’d always thought of Mei as a friend. Why wouldn’t she want me here?

The doors burst open, and a group of guests entered. I didn’t recognize any of them. They were adults dressed in fancy clothes, with a crowd of laughing children running around them. Gaëlle waited patiently beside Marie to take all their coats. Weighed down under the mountain of jackets, she hurried into a small room off the parlor. The guests laughed and talked loudly until the music kicked in and drowned out their voices. I turned to ask Mei who they were, but she was gone.

I was beginning to really dislike Irvigne Manor. Something was off about that place.

Lauraleigh arrived with the other girls from the Collège. Gaëlle took their coats too. I thought it was time to save my friend from coatroom attendant duty.

“Marie, would it be okay if Gaëlle showed me her room?” I asked, approaching the two. “I’d like to put my stuff in there for tonight.”

“Of course, my dear,” Marie said with a patronizing smile. “Gaëlle, find Olivia and have her join me here to greet our guests.”

“Yes… Mother,” Gaëlle said, and lowered her eyes. I had the feeling that Gaëlle still felt uncomfortable calling Marie “Mother.”

“And be sure to give dear Anna Sophia a tour of our home. Let her know exactly what she’s missing!” Marie laughed as if she’d made an uproariously funny joke.

“Let’s find Beatrice first,” I said. I didn’t like the idea of leaving her alone with all those strangers.

Beatrice was busy at the skee-ball machine, but she happily let us take her away when we told her about visiting Gaëlle’s room.

“Do you have a fairy bed?” she asked. “You know, the kind with the lacy top?”

“You mean a canopy bed?” asked Gaëlle. “Yes, I do.”

“Is it pink? I love pink.” Beatrice continued to chatter on about all her favorite colors, animals, and ice cream flavors. We crossed the parlor, where the guests were sampling the feast. In the corner, a few people were dancing while others lounged on couches.

“Where did all these people come from?” I asked.

“André and Marie know everybody,” Gaëlle said with a small shrug. She sounded like she didn’t want to talk about it.

André’s booming laugh echoed over the music, and she winced. I grabbed my backpack from the coatroom and followed her up the grand staircase. The walls were covered with portraits of people dressed in old-fashioned clothes. At the top, we turned left down a long hallway. We passed beautifully carved doors on each side, all closed. I assumed those were bedrooms. One of the doors opened, and Olivia came out.

I hadn’t seen Olivia since she was adopted from our orphanage two or three years ago. She was a small, thin girl, with lank blond hair and blue eyes that seemed much too large for her face.

“Marie is looking for you,” Gaëlle said. “You’d better hurry; you know how she gets.”

Olivia bit her lip and nodded once before hurrying off toward the stairs.

“What did you mean by that?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing, it’s just that Marie… I mean,
Mother
can get impatient sometimes. She likes her parties to be perfect.”

I wasn’t buying that for a minute.

“Are these bedrooms for the other girls they adopted?” I asked. “I guess they’re your sisters now. It must be nice to have such a big family.”

Gaëlle nodded. “Only Mei, Olivia, and I are left. But they are really nice.”

“Where are the others?” I tried to remember their names. Stephanie and Vivienne had been adopted from Luyons, like Gaëlle, and I was sure there were at least two other girls from other orphanages.

“Oh, they’re older now,” said Gaëlle. “Off to university already.”

I tried to remember Vivienne and Stephanie. Were they old enough for university? I didn’t think so. But maybe I was being too suspicious.

Gaëlle opened the last door at the end of the hall. Her bedroom was bigger than most of our classrooms back at the Collège. The walls were papered in pale pink. The fairy bed, as Beatrice called it, sat like a castle in the middle of the room. Gauzy lace draped over the canopy frame and hung to the floor. At least a dozen pillows were arranged neatly on the satiny pink bedspread. Beatrice squealed in delight when she saw all the toys and dress-up clothes along one wall and ran off to play with them.

“You can put your stuff over here,” said Gaëlle, pointing at a plush love seat. “And the bathroom is through that door.”

The bruise on her face stood out in the bright pink room.

“Thanks.” I tore my eyes away from Gaëlle (I still didn’t believe her story about that bruise) and looked around the room in wonder. Apart from the mess that Beatrice was already making, the room was immaculate, almost staged, like a hotel room.

“You must be very happy here,” I said, adding just enough doubt to my voice to encourage Gaëlle to open up.

She shrugged. “I don’t really spend much time in my room.”

Double glass doors led to a balcony. I opened them and stepped into the moonlight. The back garden spread below us. Flowers glittered in the pale light like jewels. Beyond the garden was the hedge maze, and behind it was the open field where our balloon had crashed. From above, I could see all the twists and turns of the maze. It was a true labyrinth, with a small building, almost like an enclosed gazebo, at its center.