What did I expect?
We’d only known each other for a few weeks. All this magic stuff was new and exciting. The thought of living in Maple Hollow, surrounded by people just like me, made me emotional. I wanted to know what it felt like to belong, and I’d just assumed that Sabine would be part of that new community. But she was leaving me behind—and alone.
I sobbed into my hands. It was ridiculous to feel this terrible after the end of a relationship that had barely started, but I’d never felt so seen by anyone else. Every boy I’d ever dated, even the sweet ones, had been laser-focused on how quickly he could get my pants off. Sabine, on the other hand, had seen straight into my mind from the jump. She’d seen my potential and pushed me to learn how to harness my magic and encouraged me to beme.
A small part of me wanted to go find her and yell at her, but my only true grievance was that she’d encouraged me to explore this new part of myself and given me confidence when I’d needed it. And I was upset that she wanted to explore a newchapter of her life without me when being together felt so damn good.
I let my emotions flow for a long while, feeling Sabine’s searing rejection while coming to terms with the realization that perhaps we were the right people for each other . . . just at the wrong time.
I could practically hear my mother saying that if we were meant to be, we would be. I’d heard the phrase religiously growing up, and she was always right in one way or another.
What would my mother think if I moved to Maple Hollow after the summer?
That question sat in the pit of my empty stomach. I needed to stop by the mess hall and grab a snack. I’d used the last bit of my energy on crying, and all I wanted to do was crawl into bed with a tub of ice cream and rot. But I would have to settle for frozen bananas covered in bittersweet chocolate and cocoa nibs.
I wiped the last of my tears from my cheeks, took a deep breath, and let the fresh air fill the void that had opened in my chest. Lake Nevermore was glassy and still, and the humidity hung in a heavy haze over the cool water. Fireflies danced off in the distance, and I could smell the funky mix of extinguished campfires and algae.
Walking back to the Flower Moon cabin, I promised myself that I would get through the last bit of camp and throw myself into learning as much as I could before the end. Because if the Maple Hollow coven was going to lose one witch and gain another, I wanted to show them that I was worthy of a spot amongst them. And maybe all of that focus and magic and energy would leave no space for thinking about a redheaded witch and the aching hole in my chest.
Maybe.
28
Gwen
Unfortunately for me, my plan to push through my feelings and be the best witch I could be failed within hours. Instead, I was sick in every way. My heart was broken, my mind was whirling, and my stomach had manifested a bug that made me violently ill every time I got out of bed. I could have gone to the healers for a cure, but I took the illness as a sign from the universe that I needed to rot in my bunk for a few days.
Faith and the rest of my cabinmates filled me in on any information—and gossip—I missed, but it was hard to focus on improving my skills while picking up the pieces of my heart and macramé-ing them back together.
When I was finally back on my feet and able to stomach the rowdy mess hall, Dagmar had news for me: she’d been putting out feelers in town, and there was, indeed, a need for a social media manager in Maple Hollow. Dagmar had given me the name of the mayor, Billy Bacchus, and said that he had a jobfor me at the end of the summer, if I wanted it. I couldn’t bring myself to askhowDagmar had known that I’d be interested, but if Sabine was going to New York, then I couldn’t go back. Even in the great unlikelihood that we’d ever run into each other, I couldn’t roam around the city knowing that a piece of my tattered heart was wandering around too.
It was an easy choice to make. I was going to finish my degree online and move to Maple Hollow . . . at least until I was finished with my training and the remaining three summers at SCUW.
After that, who knew what the future held, but I would be a full-fledged witch. I held onto that thought as I picked at my questionably thick apple-cinnamon oatmeal.
Breakfast meant the daily mail call at the end of service, and our cabin counselor plopped down a large box that I instantly knew was from my parents.
Who else would send me a bright blue box with a big yellow sun in sunglasses painted on it?
I took the package back to the steps of the cabin and set it in my lap. This was one of those moments when Mom’s affection actually hurt me because I was determined to be mad at her, but her thoughtfulness was making it really hard.
The free space around the larger objects was stuffed with all my favorite candy. The rest of the box was packed tight with more toiletries, books, and arts supplies. I picked up one of the books and read the back cover. It was a cozy romance that she’d read and liked enough to pass on to me. In a clear bag was tightly wound elastic string and beads for making friendship bracelets. Taped to the side of the bag was a finished bracelet that my mother must have made, but it wasn’t imbued with any magic.
“Oh, look, the normie got a care package,” Astrid said as she trotted by with her posse. “I bet it’s full of useless human junk.”
I ignored her.
My mother left so long ago that I wondered if she even remembered what she’d learned here. How could she so willingly send me here when she’d so easily dismissed this life for herself? I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
Anger bubbled up within me.
It was so unfair of her to have kept this from me for so long, and I wasn’t sure I could ever forgive her for it. Still, I flipped through her letter over and over, wishing there were a hidden apology between the neat lines of cursive. But all I found was mundane droning on about Dad taking up pickleball, her friend’s hairdresser’s cousin’s new wallpaper, and the latest gossip about the new deli around the corner. Nothing with feelings or emotions or concerns. It was as if she’d shut them all down long ago, and now she could only rattle off a play-by-play of other people’s lives.
Why couldn’t she just tell me she was sorry for never telling me I was a witch? Why couldn’t she just reconnect with the family she’d left behind?
Tears pricked my eyes yet again. She was just like Sabine: running and never looking back.
I sniffed and grabbed the fresh pen and notebook from the box. Then, I tore out a piece of paper, and using the care package box as a makeshift desk, I began to write.
