“Even if there were,” I continued diplomatically, “I need to graduate this year, and I’m moving to the city when the summer ends.”
That seemed to douse ice on her libido in turn. She pulled back like I’d struck her. “You’re not staying with the coven?”
“I’ll be a member of the coven still, but I just want something different. I’ll come visit.”
She guffawed, a sneer morphing her face. “You are just like that outsider’s traitorous mother,” she seethed. “You think you’re better than us? You think you’ll be happy in the outside world?”
“I just?—”
“No,” she growled, twisting and stomping up the steps. “Way to turn your back on your own kind.”
My stomach plummeted to my sneakers. It should’ve been a relief to have Astrid finally turned off, but her vitriol didn’t feel good. I wanted to make a life for myself, but the thought of doing so constantly filled me with guilt, and I didn’t want people to think I was turning my back on the coven. I wouldn’t be like Gwen’s mom, who’d cut all ties to Maple Hollow, but damn.
I waited a few minutes before heading back into the cabin, suddenly feeling like the smallest person alive.
16
Gwen
The only thing I was worse at than archery was kickball. At least with archery, my failures were mine specifically and didn’t impact my entire cabin.
“Come on, Gwen! You’ve got this!” Faith called from the sideline with the rest of our cabinmates.
Next to her, Ivy and Celeste jumped up and down, heckling the pitcher. But no amount of shouted distractions was going to fix the fact that I was terrible at kickball.
I had not been a team-sports kid growing up. Moving around as often as we had made team sports difficult. Not to mention that I’d always preferred inside extracurriculars like jazz band or drama.
“Here it comes, Morales. Eyes on the ball!” Dagmar said from her squatted position behind the catcher.
She’d been using the game to scope out who was going to make the final end-of-summer games roster. And by theexasperated way she threw her bucket hat on the ground when I missed yet another ball, I didn’t expect to get an invite.
“Strike!” Astrid sneered from her spot at second base.
“Don’t let them get in your head,” Ivy yelled. “Last kick, come on, Gwen!”
Rosaline, the pitcher from the Harvest Moon cabin, scooped the dusty red ball and hurled it toward me. As if in slow motion, I watched it come sailing through the air and managed to catch the ball with my gut for what must have been the sixth time.
I grabbed my middle and sank to the ground.
“She’s fine!” Dagmar’s voice came from over my head. “Keep your place in line.” She gave me a gentle thump on my back. “Walk it off, Morales. Get some fresh air in your lungs, then you can try again.”
Yeah, right.
I didn’t argue. Stumbling off the field for good measure, I told Faith and the others, “I’ll meet up with you back at the cabin.”
“We have ibuprofen in the bathroom,” Faith said as she stepped up to the plate and sent the first pitch flying out to left field. She was too good at human sports, and I made a mental note to ask her about it later because I was not coming back to the game unless Dagmar hunted me down herself.
I was actually beginning to like all the witches of the Flower Moon cabin, and I didn’t want to be the reason my team lost.
I wandered up the hill toward the art hut for a blissful reprieve from the hubbub of witches fighting over whether using their animation magic was fair play. But when I ducked into the paint-splotch-covered hut, I found it was already occupied by one Sabine Stonewood.
She was sitting at a table that was covered in so many layers of dried paint that it was impossible to tell what its original color had been. When I realized I couldn’t UNO reverse cardout of there before she spotted me, I lingered awkwardly in the doorway.
“Oh, hey,” I said, scratching the back of my head.
“Why do you look like you’re hiding from an invading army?” Sabine asked with a grin.
“Close,” I replied. “Kickball.”
