Another nod.
She thought for a moment then smiled, chin raised in a challenge. ‘Prove it. Do some witchy shit.’
‘I’d rather not,’ I replied, looking around her chaotic room. ‘My magic is pretty unpredictable and I don’t want to hurt you.’
‘This is classic.’
Her eyes rolled like wagon wheels and she threw up her hands to make bunny ear air quotes. ‘“I’m breaking up with you because I don’t want to hurt you”, “I can’t hang out with you because my family doesn’t approve”, “I haven’t been returning your texts because I’m a witch”.’
‘You hear that one a lot?’ I asked.
‘Maybe not the witch one but I’m fluent in excuses to ditch the weird queer mixed-race girl with the hot dude twin.’ Her tone was bruised and cold, another rare flash of the vulnerable version of herself that she kept so well hidden. ‘Whatever, Emily, you don’t need to lie. I’m sure you found more suitable friends your grandmother approves of and that’s cool with me.’
‘Lyds, no, that’s not it at all,’ I said, throwing myself down to my knees beside her bed. ‘This isn’t me ditching you, thisis me trying to protect you. I really am a witch and there’s this ceremony thing I have to do on my birthday and I’m genuinely afraid something bad is going to happen. I don’t want you to get caught in the fall-out.’
Her expression changed, the defensive sneer turning curious, two little lines appearing between her eyebrows as she concentrated.
‘You really think you’re a witch,’ she said, her curiosity evolving into intrigue. ‘You really believe what you’re saying to me.’
‘I really do,’ I confirmed.
‘Sorry but I am going to have to see some proof.’
‘Pass me that candle.’ I pointed at a glass jar by the side of her bed, the wax already half melted away. Bouncing across the mattress and spilling her soda as she went, Lydia grabbed the jar and tossed it to me before resuming her position, eyes locked on the wick.
‘Don’t try any sneaky shit,’ she warned. ‘If you tell me to look over there then pull out a book of matches, I’ll kick your ass.’
‘You already owe me an ass-kicking,’ I assured her as I held the candle in my hands and focused on my inhale, holding the air in my lungs, then letting it out slowly. All I had to do was concentrate. A bright pink flame sparked into life, flaring almost up to the ceiling, then settled back down to dance around the wick.
‘Holy moly, you’re a witch!’ Lydia shrieked, jumping up off the bed. ‘What else can you do? Can we hex people? Can we turn them into toads? Or is it mostly pyro powers, because that is still very cool if it’s all you have.’
The weight of the last few weeks lifted just enough for me to find a smile. Of course Lydia was going to be amazing about this. Lydia was amazing.
‘I’m still figuring it all out,’ I told her as she waved a handover the pink flame, dancing with delight. ‘I only just found out and it’s a very long story—’
‘And you’re not going to leave a single word of it out. I have nothing else to do today.’
‘Eventually,’ I promised. ‘But right now I need you to swear to me that you and Jackson will get out of town Friday night. Or at the very least, be on the other side of the river by the time the full moon rises.’
‘Because of your weird witchy ceremony?’
‘Because there’s a really solid chance I might set the entire city on fire.’
‘It’s not like I haven’t considered that myself,’ Lydia said with a little too much enthusiasm. ‘But they’d catch me buying all the matches and gasoline. That’s how they get everyone, I saw it on YouTube. You’re lucky you have the natural resources. What can I do to help?’
‘You can leave,’ I insisted, reaching for her hand. ‘I’m serious, I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you or Jackson because of me.’
‘But I don’t want to go,’ she replied with equal intensity. ‘I want to help you.’
The calm quiet of her room was suddenly shattered by the sound of the front door slamming and Jackson yelling out that he was home. At once, every candle in Lydia’s room roared into life with pink flames soaring up to the ceiling, one of them catching on the netting above her bed. Before I could react, she yanked it down and stamped out the fledgling fire. All the candles burned out at the same time, the wicks, wax and glass vessels dissolving into shiny, solid puddles.
‘Remind me,’ she said, still grinding the canopy under her foot. ‘What time do we need to leave?’
‘The ceremony is set for eight thirty,’ I replied. ‘Better to be long gone by then.’
‘For the record, I do not believe you’re going to burn this place down,’ Lydia declared, hands on her hips as she surveyed the damage. ‘But we’ll be out of here by seven. Just to be safe.’
‘Seven sounds good,’ I agreed, biting my lip at the shiny discs of glass and wax all around the room. ‘Just to be safe.’
