What the Spell Part 1 (3 page)

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy biiiirthday, dear Brook-lyn.” My parents paused for dramatic effect. “Happy birthday to you!”

They’d insisted on singing, even though I’d pointed out that I was sixteen now and entirely too old for such childish traditions. When they were finished, they both laughed at their inability to sing on key and looked at me expectantly as they waited for what came next. For the second time that day, I blew out my birthday candles, wishing for the same thing I always did: a different life.

“Brilliant, just brilliant,” my mom said, clapping, when I’d blown them out. Mom watched a lot of British television and I think she wished she lived there. She thought the accent was so proper, and every once in a while she’d speak like the characters in her favorite shows. It used to bug me and Dad, but after a while we just sort of got used to it.

“I bet I know what you wished for,” my dad said, wagging
his finger at me like I was a child misbehaving. He did that all the time. It was like he was in denial about the fact that I was no longer a toddler. It probably stemmed from the fact that he’d always wanted another kid, but Mom had said she was done after it took her thirty-six hours of nonstop pain to have me. She’d said if Dad wanted another child, he’d have to push it out himself.

“Let’s have some cake,” Mom said, already slicing into the vanilla cake with vanilla frosting. No matter how many times I requested something different, like raspberry filling or double fudge, it was always vanilla. My parents said they didn’t like riffraff in their cake.

And that pretty much summed up my family. Vanilla, hold the riffraff.

I waited as patiently as I could as my mom served us, my leg bouncing up and down anxiously below the table. After she handed me my piece, I practically inhaled it.

“Can we do it now?” I asked as I swallowed the last bit of cake.

“Patience, Brooklyn,” my dad said as he chewed slowly. “Your mother and I haven’t even finished our slices yet.”

I held in an aggravated sigh and tried to remind myself that I’d waited sixteen years for what was about to happen, so a few more minutes wouldn’t kill me. But it turned out to be the most excruciatingly long ten minutes of my life. And just when I thought I might explode, my parents pushed their plates away and sat back, finally full and happy.

“Here, let me get those,” I said, jumping up and clearing the table.

“Well, we should unbind your powers more often.” Mom chuckled, watching me go. “Maybe then I’d finally get you to do your chores.”

“Sure. Yeah,” I said, ignoring her tone. “Can we do it
now
?”

My parents looked at one another.

“Please?” I wanted to add, “You promised.” But I didn’t think whining would help my case, since I was trying to get them to see me as mature now.

My dad stood up and reached out his hand to help my mom up out of her chair. “Fine. But we’ll need a few things,” he said, walking into the living room. I followed after them like a puppy dog. “First, I need a bucket of water, a rose, cayenne pepper, peppermint oil, dirt from the backyard, a large candle, and a glass of milk.”

“Got it,” I said, disappearing at once to gather everything he mentioned. After several minutes of rummaging around the kitchen, I came back into the living room with my arms full. I placed each item on the coffee table, except for the bucket of water, which I put on the floor between us. My dad held the jar of dirt in his hands, which he’d been nice enough to retrieve for me. No girl should have to go digging around in the dirt, especially on her birthday.

While I’d been gone, my mom had left the room to retrieve a few items of her own. In her hands was an oversize leather-bound book with yellowing papers sticking out of the sides. I’d read on magicking boards that families like mine often had spell books. I wondered if this was ours.

“Please, remove your shoes, socks, and any jewelry you may have on and then step into the water,” my dad said.

Suddenly everything seemed so formal; it was a side of my parents I’d never seen before. I did what they said and hurried into the water, not worrying when a few splashes came up and over the bucket’s edge.

“First, we’ll add the peppermint,” Dad said, placing the oil in the water. The aroma filled the air instantly and I inhaled
the scent deeply. “To enhance your memory as well as soothe your stomach so you can always trust your gut.”

I watched him bend down and pick up the bottle of red powder next. “Cayenne,” he said, sprinkling just a little near my feet, “to add a touch of heat to your spells when they call for it.”

It was more than weird to hear my dad talk about heat in relation to me, but I willed myself to stay silent so that he’d continue with the spell. “Rose petals to remind you to be gentle with yourself and others. The power that comes along with performing magic can harden a person and often sweep them up in the moment. Sometimes you need to stop and smell the roses. Try to find the beauty in life.

“A little dirt from the earth to keep you grounded and make sure you always appreciate the gifts that the universe offers,” he said, dumping a fistful of the dark stuff right onto my foot. With a flick of his hand, he ignited a flame and lit the tall candle, placing it down into the bucket and away from my legs. It stood firmly in place, with more than half the pillar sticking out of the water. “And finally, a candle to light your way on all your journeys.”

“What’s the milk for?” I asked, noticing that it was still sitting on the table and hadn’t been added to the mixture yet.

My dad looked at me and then down at the glass. He blinked. “The cake made me thirsty.”

I rolled my eyes at him but didn’t say anything.

“Okay, so now we’re ready,” he said. “Mabel, do you have the offering?”

My mom stepped forward and presented him with a piece of string that was tied in a knot. I stared at it, noting that it didn’t appear to be anything special.

“Your father and I bound your powers when you were
born, to ensure that you had a chance to grow up as a normal kid, free from the complications that magic can bring. As you know, we don’t use our powers much in this house and we hoped that by the time you came of age, you would respect the gifts that you were given and make similar decisions.”

In other words, they wanted me to choose to live a low-magic lifestyle. They hadn’t exactly been subtle about these desires as I grew up. It’s not like they’d hidden our gifts from me, but they’d made it very clear that I could live a normal life without using my powers. But all this did was make me feel like I didn’t fit in anywhere. I didn’t fit in as a normal teenager and I didn’t fit into the witching world.

I was over a decade behind in honing my skills, since my ’rents steered clear of that part of our life.

Thank God for the Internet, because without it, I wouldn’t know half the stuff I do about magic and casting. Through special message boards online called the witchboards, I was able to connect with other teen witches—nicknamed twitches on the boards—from around the world, so I wouldn’t be totally hopeless when the time came.

“We hope that we’ve shown you that you don’t need to use your powers if you don’t want to. It’s okay to be a normal teenager. You don’t have to stand out. Life’s a lot easier that way. And a lot safer, too.”

I wanted to scream and say that I was sick of being normal, because normal was boring, and boring people weren’t popular, and that being invisible sucked. But I didn’t. I kept my mouth clamped shut so they would finish.

“Are you sure you want this life?” my dad asked me.

I tried not to answer too quickly, but it was out of my mouth before I could stop myself. “Yes,” I said. Then, a little more calmly, “I’m sure.”

“All right.”

They took a step toward me. “Hold out your hand.” I did as they said, and my mom placed the knotted string in my palm, and then closed my fist around it. Then she put her hand over mine, and Dad put his on top of hers. “Now close your eyes.”

It hit me that this was the first spell I’d ever been involved in, and I began to get really nervous as I lowered my lids. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I knew I was ready for
something
to happen. Even if things didn’t turn out the way I’d always imagined they would, anything had to be better than the way my life had been going so far.

And with that thought, they started chanting:

Born free but quickly reined,

Thy powers were hidden but remained.

Deep inside thy bridled soul,

Discovery of thyself was the ultimate goal.

Here, this string ties thou to us,

Unwind, unfurl, undo thou must.

Though once bound, thy gifts are now free,

We wish thou well on life’s journey.

As they spoke the last words of the spell, I felt a whoosh of cold air flow through the room, whipping my hair around like we were in a wind tunnel. And then it stopped. I could feel that the atmosphere had changed around us and was almost scared to open my eyes. But I did anyway and looked down at my still balled-up fist.

My parents both withdrew their hands. After a few seconds, I hesitantly opened mine. The string was still inside, but now it was straight.

“Congratulations, Brooklyn,” my mom said. “You’re officially a practicing witch.”

“How do you feel this morning, sweetie?” my mom asked as I plopped down onto the kitchen chair the next day.

I yawned in response.

“Like I told you last night, it’s normal for a witch’s body to need to rest after coming into her powers. Having all of that magic coursing through you at once has a tendency to tap you out. Kind of like when you get a new cell phone and you have to charge it before using it.”

“Crap, I forgot to charge my cell phone,” I muttered as I snagged a piece of toast from the middle of the table and took a bite.

I was grumpy that morning and I couldn’t help it. I’d had so many things planned for the night my powers were released. But immediately following the big unbinding, I’d proceeded to pass out. And not in an “I’m a little tired, I think I’ll go to bed early” kind of way. It was more like I’d been slipped a sedative or something, and it was all I could do just to make it to my bed before I collapsed. I hadn’t even had the energy to change into pajamas. And even after sleeping like the dead for more than eleven hours, I still felt like I needed a few dozen Red Bulls if I was going to make it through the day.

I was mostly annoyed at the fact that I hadn’t been able to do any magic at all. There were so many things I’d wanted to try. Summoning spells, levitation, creating light out of darkness—I had a list I’d been making for the past year and figured I’d be able to get to at least
some
of them before I called it quits for the night. Instead, I’d pulled a snoozer.

What a waste.

There was one spell in particular that I’d been waiting
forever to perform. And it was going to change my life, I just knew it. So when I awoke that morning, unchanged and more than slightly disappointed at how anticlimactic the whole thing had been, I couldn’t seem to tame my inner brat.

“Do I have to go to school today?” I asked, bordering on whiney. “I know it’s not technically my birthday anymore, but I think considering the circumstances . . .”

“Your exhaustion will wear off the more you get up and move,” my mom answered. She didn’t have to say no for me to realize that’s what she meant. My frown grew deeper. “Pretty soon, you’ll go back to feeling like normal again.”

“That’s what I’m hoping
doesn’t
happen,” I said as I took another bite of the toast.

My mom stopped bustling around the kitchen and stared at me for a minute as I nibbled on my breakfast. “You do look different, though,” she said, almost wistfully.

“I do?” I asked.

“A bit . . . older, maybe. I can’t believe how quickly you’re growing up, Brooklyn.”

“Oh, Mom,” I sighed, realizing her comment had nothing to do with my magical abilities. She was just having a parental moment.