“He said maybe.”
“Maybe?” My sweet friend acted as if he were the crazy one.
Now, I wasn’t so sure.
Was the idea crazy? Sure, I’d basically blurted out that I wanted to have a live ritual going on campus for a pagan holiday, but what more was there besides honoring the full moon and having a small bonfire? There was a nature walk and food and dancing and pumpkins and shit.
I was basically serving up an all-inclusive trip to Starbucks … just more outside.
I lifted a shoulder. “He has to run all nonacademic events by the student council. They meet at the end of the week.”
Just another hoop to jump through. Only this time, I was sure that I’d trip halfway and come crashing down on my face.
“The council? Or is it still the student association, meant to be whispered in reverent, hushed tones?”
“Does it matter?”
Vadika didn’t have anything to say to that, lifting a hand to push back a strand of hair behind her ear, lined with gold piercings. “Isn’tsheon the committee?”
I could’ve almost smiled at how she referenced Natalie. Vadika always tried to give people the benefit of the doubt, but after the last time Natalie had tried to get me kicked out of my room last month for the few unlit candles I had sitting out on my desk, Vadika’s mind had been made up.
“She is.”
Pretty sure she was anyway. It fit.
“Well, damn.”
My internal monologue exactly.
“It’s way too late to get on that girl’s good side, huh?” Vadika mumbled.
Way too late. I was screwed. No matter which way I put this to make this entire scenario seem a little better, unless Natalie suddenly had a personality change and the world had a minor apocalypse, there was no way Natalie was going to vote for me. The rest of the committee, however, I couldn’t be one-hundred-percent positive. They were likely easily swayed.
It wasn’t as if the student council was bad. It was simply that the only things that ever got passed through Barnett’s committee were those created by the committee. The bland, boring traditional college event–creating committee.
This place was basically a democratic dictatorship.
I groaned.
“It’s not the end of the world.”
“Just the end of my plan,” I sighed.
Vadika bit her lip.
“Don’t.”
“You know you only started this to get back at Celeste,” Vadika said anyway.
“That’s not true.” It was only partly true.
Everyone seemed to know it before I did.
I’d finally gotten back to Barnett a week before the start of classes after spending too much time with my father and grandmother, who spouted the Old Testament at me along with warnings to my father that I was becoming a Satan worshipper. Coming back to Barnett and my coven felt like coming home. I was at ease.
Then, Celeste, one of the few women in my tiny yet fantastic coven, had had to ruin it all. I hadn’t realized that I was trading one crotchety old woman for a middle-aged one who suddenly decided she wanted to have more input on my life and made everyone else agree with her. Or more specifically, the fact that I needed to start making decisions, like my major and doing more “young people things.” Basically, live more.
As if I wasn’t already.
