Family Magic by Chloe Price (old books to read .txt) 📖

kept me up nights, devoured by curiosity, but I had never been able to catch him at it.

I went to the door and opened it for him, still trying not to laugh.

“Thank you,” he said at his most aloof.

Head high, tail at full mast, and with as much dignity as he could gather around him, Sassafras waddled his fat cat body out of my room.

I barely had time to close the door and fling myself onto my bed, before breaking into laughter, smothering most of it in my pillow.

I laughed for a good minute, tears soaking into the cotton case as I let the last of the tension leave me completely. I rolled over onto my back when I regained control and let go of a cleansing breath, staring at the hideous light fixture my mother hung for me despite my protests. Stupid pink chandelier with its stupid pink crystals and sparkly stars. Who did she think I was? I really hated it, I think more so because Mom insisted. The story of my life with the Hayle coven. Do what’s good for you because we said so. The more I turned it over in my mind the more I totally understood it wasn’t so much my ability but the absolute weight of expectation, a literal force of gravity on my shoulders, pushing me down into a mold of their making.

I had a chill at the thought of my family reduced to nothing because of my decisions. I finally shook it off. Sass just exaggerated to try to make me feel bad.

At least, that was what I told myself. Chapter Five

When I woke up in the morning, two things hit me. One, I wasted my sunny Sunday on being stupid and two, now it was Monday and I had to go to school. I groaned and covered my eyes with my arm to block out the cheerful sun. Surely there was a way to rewind the last day and do it over again?

Somehow, I didn’t think Mom would get the concept.

I pulled myself out of bed. One great thing about our new house, I shared a bathroom with Meira and she was too young to appreciate it.

I tried to avoid looking at myself in the mirror, knowing I wouldn’t like what I saw staring back at me. Despite the fact I was still a little peeved at my mom, I knew I overreacted. I just didn’t know what to do to fix it. If I tried to apologize, she’d get all squishy and cry and want to hug me and tell me she loved me. Whatever. But if I let it go on too long… oh, the guilt would be legendary.

I decided to bite the bullet as I attacked my teeth with my toothbrush, managing to finally look myself in the eye. I wanted to get it over with so at least one dreadful part of the day could be done before the true horror started.

I dressed carefully, neatly even, not my typical weekend fare of ‘who cares if it matches’. I wasn’t dressing for Mom’s benefit or even my own. I selected only those items I hoped would help me pass as normal. Designer jeans just the right rise, a logo t-shirt that fit a little too tight, trendy belt I wouldn’t normally be caught dead in and high-heeled sandals—see belt. I checked my makeup and hair in my mirror and added a touch of pale pink lip-gloss before tossing the tube in my up-to-date book bag. I’ll say one thing for Mom, she would buy me anything I asked for. Thank goodness she stopped insisting on helping me pick out clothes. If she had her way, I’d stand out even more than I did. Might as well have tattooed ‘freak’ across my forehead. Bad enough most normals can ‘feel’ a witch’s aura even if they don’t know what we are. Most normals feel uncomfortable around us and don’t know why. Everything I did screamed average, ordinary, All-American girl and I was still labeled as an outcast at school. If I pushed down my power any further, I’d fall asleep.

I inspected the final ensemble and shrugged. Best I could do.

I made it to the kitchen before Meira went to the bus. I forced her to at least hug and kiss me before leaving, though she squirmed and made faces the whole time. She wouldn’t meet my gaze and I could tell she already spent some time that morning in tears.

Meira donned her human appearance and ran to catch her ride to school. She made normal seem so easy. She could cast the illusion of pale white skin and dark blue eyes, smudging out her cute little horns in the process so the other girls in her grade didn’t run screaming. Her real appearance would have sent the whole school screaming, for that matter. I watched out the window as she waved at a pair of other little coven girls and took a seat next to them, talking rapidly and laughing as the bus pulled away.

“No fair,” I whispered. Meira was better at all of it than me. Not to mention the fact most of the other kids in the group were either way younger or way older than I was. So, no instant friends for me, but at least she was able to feel like she fit in somewhere.

By the time I turned around to talk to Mom and get it over with, she had already left. I stood there in the streaming sunlight. I tried to find balance between the normalness of the modern kitchen and the secret of our real lives. How to compare gleaming stainless steel appliances covered in Meira’s drawings, bright, cheery cupboards and whimsical mugs painted with daisies against the reality of magic? What did lace curtains have to do with who we were? China and place settings? Why was there such a divide for me between who I wanted to be and who I was forced to pretend to be? I had never been able to find a balance, to accept the melding of the two and knew it was part of the reason I struggled so much with being a witch.

That train of thought took me nowhere. I shook it off and briefly considered tracking my mother down. I decided to leave it until after school. As it was, I barely had time after my excessive primping routine to grab a granola bar and my lunch bag and hit the pavement to make it the six blocks to school before the first bell.

October was already almost over. The quiet town of Wilding Springs, Pennsylvania, displayed cute ghosts, witches and carved pumpkins on every doorstep. The weather was still perfect, warm during the day, cooler at night, but I saw the trees turning colors on my walk to school and regretted the coming of winter, mostly because it meant the end of the outdoor soccer season.

Wilding Springs seemed like a typical small town, with one exception. The place was so clean it sparkled. Old brick buildings filled the historic center, all trimmed in pristine white. Cobbled stones polished with age made up the main street, perfectly maintained despite having been there for well over a century. Cute shops stuffed with offerings from local artists, homemade baked goods and touristy trinkets lined the picture quality little town square. There wasn’t a mall to be seen, the closest one a twenty-minute ride on the interstate. Any outward appearance of modern life hid gently behind history and tasteful cheer. It reminded me so much of a movie set I kept looking around for the camera crew.

This was also the first town we lived in I felt had an air of the supernatural all its own. I knew my mom checked it before our last move, but I couldn’t help but get the feeling we now lived in the land of make-believe. The residents were too much, their lives too charming. Everyone had a home that looked like gingerbread cutouts of cuteness, scrolling detail at eave and doorway. Each neat, tidy lawn freshly mowed, the people friendly to a fault.

Everyone else assimilated nicely, even commenting on how sweet and lovely Wilding Springs could be. Everyone except… okay. Never mind. We had only been living there for a month, but I already established myself as the weird Junior who tried too hard. At least, that was my impression. I stopped smiling at people on my walk to school and adopted the blank expression I saw on the faces of the other students. Problem with moving to a small town, everyone knows everyone and no one wants to hang out with the weird new girl who didn’t fit in anywhere, least of all her own coven. Sadly enough, I didn’t want to hang out with me, either, so I could hardly blame them.

I was way past tired of moving from town to town and being forced to start over. Just another of the things I swore to myself I would put an end to when I turned eighteen and was on my official ‘list of things Syd will never do to her own kids ever.’ But when you live in a family of witches, weird stuff happens, stuff which might accidentally involve the neighbors, which means a quick move in the middle of the night to a whole new state so no one gets arrested.

Normals usually don’t want to know magic is happening across the street, but if you shove their noses in it, things can get ugly. Last time was Gram’s fault. A little mid-day spell at the local hairdresser. I’m sure the blue eventually washed out of that lady’s hair. Served her right, though, for being nasty.

The time before that had been my mom’s doing, but she was defending Meira so I totally got it.

Needless to say, due to one mistake or another, I was forced countless times to start at a new school, suss out the cool kids, try to make new friends and just generally fit in.

I’m not very good at it. And high school is a singular kind of hell. Don’t get me wrong. I used to try really hard, seeing each move as an opportunity, a chance to finally belong. But trying too hard can come across as pathetic and desperate, which I am good at. Being pegged as the new freak over and over can take a toll on a girl. I finally reached the point where if I couldn’t join them, I could at least blend in with the scenery.

And part of me now worried about fitting in. What if I found the perfect town, the perfect friends and suddenly—gasp!— had some level of popularity, then someone in the coven screwed up and we had to move away from my dream life?

Not to say I’m suicidal, but I’d have to slit my wrists.

I made it to the school steps without incident and considered it a victory. I kept my head down as I moved past the cool girls who waited for the football team to grace them with their presence. It was only because I had my eyes suitably glued to the concrete that I managed to