Deva turned and grinned at me, her eyes twinkling. “I know for a fact there’s no way you’ve ever done this before.”
“What?” For some reason, they all seem a little too pleased with themselves for my liking.
“Fly,” she said, softly. If someone had hit me with a feather at that moment, they probably could have knocked me over.
Fly? As in they plan to make us all sprout wings? Or were we being turned into birds? I swear I read a book once where they were turned into birds and flew to the south pole. I really didn’t want to have to fly all the way to the south pole, or the north pole. No matter where we were going, I was pretty sure I’d prefer to take a car. Not that I would say that in front of the strange witches. Who knew what could piss them off?
I realized that they were all leaving without me, while I stood in stunned silence, and hurried to catch up to the group as they walked through the foyer again and across the house. I managed to catch up to them in the kitchen. “Um, flying?” I finally managed weakly.
Beth laughed and grabbed my hand. “Come on!” It was the first time I’d really seen her look happy in the last twenty-four hours, especially since we’d come to see the witches. She’d been so much more withdrawn than normal. It was like she took the fact that they didn’t let her join as a judgement on her as a person, which I didn’t think was fair. If anything, it made them look unreasonable and a little snobby. Not that I would ever say that out loud.
Once we walked out the back door, I quickly realized what they had in mind. A row of brooms leaned up against the back of the house. All sorts of brooms. Tall ones with long, feathery brushes and shorter ones with flat bottomed brushes, ones made of every kind of wood, and even some painted elaborate colors. It looked like I’d stepped into some kind of strange art gallery, every exhibit featuring different types of brooms. It was odd. But apparently, everything was a little odd about the supernatural world.
Including me.
“Your broom will determine what sort of ride you have,” Beth explained. “A soft broom gives a cushier ride. A more industrial type of broom will be fast and efficient.”
“So, I’m looking for a soft broom,” I said.
My friends were all grinning.
Carol pointed to a sleek one. “You sure you aren’t looking for a smooth ride that will get you to where you want to gofast.”
I looked at her and my jaw dropped open. “Are you making a sexual joke?”
She pointed to one that’s bumpy, crooked, and looked like it was made of splinters. “I would stay away from that one. You’ve already had your share of terrible rides.”
I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing.
Deva leaned in. “She making sex jokes about brooms again?”
I nodded, feeling stupid.
Deva shook her head, but she was smiling. “Good old Carol, still the same as when we were teens.”
“Who are you callingold,” she said, heading for the brooms.
With a chuckle, I grabbed a broom that reminded me of what my grandmother had used, with long straw pieces on the end. If I was looking for something that would be slow and steady, I had a feeling this would be the perfect match. “How about this?”
“A good choice,” Deva said. “That broom should definitely be a good ride for a beginner. You ready to try this?”
My nerves jangled, but I nodded. “I am.”
Why not? I trusted my friends not to get me hurt. I wasn’t at all sure why we needed to fly or where to, but who was I to turn down an adventure like this?
A tiny thought strays to my perfectly dependable car. It wasn’t fancy and new like Rick’s and it wasn’t brightly colored either, but it was stalwart. I knew I had a few more years before things really started to go wrong with it, much like myself. I was creaking here and there, but if I treated myself right then I would have some time before I started feeling like I was completely falling apart, or at least that was my hope.
The old Emma would’ve never done this. But the old Emma was trapped in a miserable marriage, feeling alone in a quiet house, with the weight of the world on her shoulders. The old Emma felt like she was in a slow marathon that only ended with death.
I definitely preferred the side of me that had real friends and a real life. The side of me that tried to be brave and took on the world, rather than hiding from it. So, if riding a broom was my next challenge, I’d try to face it with the same kind of grace as the group of friends I admired so much.
“We prefer traveling this way,” Khat said, as if she knew the questions that had been running through my mind. “We do it whenever we can. And it’s so much faster than walking to the woods where we need to go to do this spell.”
“Is there any trick to it?” I asked, imagining myself flying straight into the sun, or turning into one of those Halloween decorations where the witch and her broom are wrapped around a tree, like they hit it.
Beth giggled. “Nope. Just hop on and push off. The brooms are spelled. You can’t fall off unless someone curses you off.”
Each of us chose a different kind of broom. Carol, to my surprise, chose the super sleek one that almost looked like it was made from a dark brown metal. Deva chose one that was… pretty. It had been painted a sky blue and had feathers instead of straw at the bottom of it. The emerald, gold, and sapphires made them look like peacock feathers, which somehow suited Deva. But Beth, she seemed to choose the one closest to her with little thought. It was plain-looking, but with little carvings in the handle, and seemed sturdy enough.
