That tracked, I supposed. The Venn diagram of queer people and witchy people was more of a circle.
I pursed my lips and nodded. Well, at least I wouldn’t stick out for being pansexual in this group. I wondered if I’d have to make the bracelet myself or if the pin I had on my backpack was enough of an identifier.
At first, the others just looked like normal campers with SCUW T-shirts of varying colors, but upon closer inspection, they all had slightly witchy vibes too. Many had nature tattoos or wore crystals around their necks or rings with the moon phases. Hints so subtle I’d almost missed them.
I was just starting to feel confident that I might slot right in when the raucous chatter diminished to nothing the moment Mom and I walked to the center of the room. All eyes turned toward us as if a spotlight had suddenly ignited upon the out-of-towners.
It was a reception I was all too familiar with. I’d been the new girl every year for my entire life. I didn’t know how to be anything but an outsider. Still, I found the reactions a tad overdramatic.
“Ignore them,” Mom whispered, leading me toward a gaggle of girls in olive-green shirts. “Here we go. First years.”
“I’m older than most of them,” I muttered, folding my arms tightly across my chest. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me.
“You’re a late bloomer in the magic world,” Mom replied, giving me flashbacks of training-bra shopping at JCPenney when I’d been a preteen. The rest of the first-year campers were all eighteen—not a huge age difference, but enough of one to make me stick out even further. “You’ve got to start at the beginning, hon. Most of these girls grew up around magic. You’ll need this summer more than anyone to catch up.”
“And whose fault is that?” I hissed. “None of the other parents are in here,” I added. “Why don’t you just go?”
Mom frowned, her shoulders drooping. “Okay, honey,” she said, hugging me. “Be safe, and I’ll see you in two months. I love you.”
I returned her embrace with an unsympathetic pat on the back. Mom and Dad were the only people I tolerated hugs from. The lack of PDA was one of the many things that Brayden hadhated. I wasn’t a physical affection kind of girl, so even though we’d been sleeping together for weeks, we’d never cuddled or canoodled or draped ourselves all over each other like other couples.
I pulled out of Mom’s arms, still feeling the sting of her betrayal as I murmured, “I love you too.”
I didn’t watch her go. Instead, I kept my head low as I found the end of the olive-green T-shirt line.
The only other girl not wearing green sidled up beside me, her eyes imploring. “Please tell me you’re also from out of town?” she asked, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. “Because I really don’t want to be the only one.”
I raised a sheepish hand. “Guilty.”
She gave a little leap like an overexcited puppy. “Yay! I’m Faith. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Gwen,” I offered, shaking her eagerly outstretched hand. “Are we supposed to already have T-shirts or . . .”
“The Maple Hollow locals all picked theirs up before camp started,” she assured me. “I think we should be able to pick ours up with our welcome packet. So, where are you from?”
“All over,” I replied to cut the explanation short. “But most recently New York City. You?”
“Baltimore,” she said. “Our coven disbanded a couple years ago, and this is the one my great-grandmother grew up in. Honestly, I wanted to go to the one in Salem, but Mom sent me here for my initiations.”
“So, you knew you were a witch?”
Her eyes bugged. “You didn’t?” I shook my head. “Holy goddess, you must be totally freaking out right now.”
I shrugged. “The shock has worn off, but the anxiety nausea still comes in waves.”
Faith chuckled as she nudged me with her elbow. “Well, you’re definitely handling it better than most witches would.”
The blonde girl who’d almost run into Mom’s car sidled up to us, flanked by two other girls in matching white T-shirts, their judgmental eyes sweeping the crowd.
I nudged Faith’s arm and subtly pointed to the wannabe Plastics. “Who’s Regina George?” I snarked to Faith.
“That is Astrid Cunningham. Her grandmother is the high priestess of the coven. You donotwant to get on her bad side.”
Yup, I was right. My intuition had never failed to alert me to potential threats. Being the perpetual new kid had always made me the target for girls like Astrid. Though, now I wondered if some of the misfortunes that had befallen the mean girls of my past had been magically linked. I probably should feel guilty—especially since one of my bullies had ended up with so much gum in her hair that she’d had to shave her head—but pushed away the thought.
“How did you get the scoop on Astrid?” I asked Faith, taking a few steps to catch up with the line. “I thought you were new?”
“New to this place, not to the world of being a teenage witch,” she whispered back. “One of the counselors told me to give her a wide berth, not that I needed to be told. Astrid’s got top-bitch vibes. I spotted that walking red flag before I even got out of my dad’s car.”
