Faces and expressions were difficult to make out, but I heard him before I could read his face.
He screamed. “It’s the witch!”
Heart racing, sweat sticking in the palms of my hand, I hurried past the child and the crowd, hoping I would find Noni soon. This was my first time doing this.
And maybe my last.Perhaps this was a bad idea…
I hated that my eyeslookednormal. Maybe it would be better if they had a grayish film or something that could help people see I had an eyesight disability.
But no. That I had normal-looking eyes only stoked the rumor about being a witch. “She looks fine,” people would say, “So she must be hiding something.”
I passed a stand with women who looked more like myself.
I must be getting closer to Noni.She usually hung out with the locals.
The native women of the island–with dark hair and light brown skin like myself–wore plain dresses, but not black. They grew quiet as I passed.
I pretended it didn’t bother me.
People here didn’t trust me, as if I were a toxic side effect of a potion. They didn’t like that I was different, and most days I wished I could hide away forever.
But perhaps there was something deep inside of methat hoped maybe… justmaybe… I could drop off some goods at the farmer’s market and the people who bought them might start welcoming me as their own…
Perhaps it’s just wishful thinking,I told myself.I’m a witch.
I was the witch with long hair and black dresses, who lived in a black cottage in the woods a safe distance from the quaint town of Halekai. What other colors was I expected to wear and use? Besides, when Ihadgone to a seamstress a few months ago, having saved up enough money for a new dress, she told me the only thing I’d be able to get from her was a black dress.
“Suits a witch like you,” she said. Out of spite, I took her up on the offer.
Out of spite…I rolled my eyes as I pushed on through the busy market.More like I had no other choice.She was the best–priced seamstress in town and the only one who would do business with me. It was ridiculous that I’d come from a life of wealth and luxury to this life of poverty and ostracization.
“Watch where you’re going,” a well-dressed woman snapped at me as I accidentally brushed her shoulder.
It was late afternoon, and already some vendors were closing up for the day. I worried I had arrived too late, but the area was so packed, I told myself I still might sell the baked goods I’d brought.
I caught sight of Noni, a friend who offered to sell my goods at her booth. She was a kind woman, and someone I’d met when, in desperation, her husband came to me asking for help. Noni had just given birth and had a raging fever. Her husband went to every doctor and medicine man in town, but each told him Noni wouldn’t make it.
With my knowledge of herbs and medicines, I could help her.
We’d been friends ever since.
“Aloha, Aunty Malia!” One girl ran up to me, clutching my dress and jumping up and down. I crouched to hug her, warmth filling my empty soul. It was warmer than any cup of herbal tea. What a joy to be called an aunty!
And as the little girl hugged me, a bittersweetness came over me of the fact I’d never have children of my own. I’d never have a family of my own. Because nobody would ever see past the monster I was…
I was like a weed in a garden of beautiful flowers:veryunwanted.
Malia…I warned myself, not wanting to drown in those thoughts.
Not now.
“There you are! I was worried you weren’t coming,” said Noni, and we kissed one another’s cheeks. She looked me up and down, and I saw the silent skepticism in her eyes. Though we were friends and quite amiable with one another, we were not close.
She still had her questions and doubts about me, especially my being a witch. Noni had been bold enough to ask me questions about my past–something nobody else had ever done–but I was too afraid to tell her.
I skimmed over the truth and then gave up. “It’s better that you don’t know,” I said.
“But people can find out that you’re not a wicked witch!” Noni had fought back. “You’re just good with herbs–”
