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THE SUMMONING

In the center of the dusty attic, my aunt draws a seven-sided star onto the hardwood floor, dipping her fingers into a bowl of dark red paint that smells awful. On hands and knees, she redraws every line until sweat drips down her forehead and blonde hair slips free of her messy bun. All the while I stand statue-still by the trap door. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be playing outside with the other kids, but they’re all mean to me.

My aunt reaches for something in her dark skirt pockets. A bone?

My brows pinch together. What on Earth is she doing?

She places the small bone at the tip of a star point, then grabs another and another, until all seven have one. And then she sees me. Eyes wide, she jumps. “Annalise, what are you doing here?”

I shuffle my feet and stare down at the floorboards. “I got bored,” I say sheepishly. “What are you doing? Are you casting a spell?” It’s not like any I’ve ever seen before. Mom only uses crystals and dirt. This looks much cooler.

My aunt bites her bottom lip then glances between me and the boarded-up window. Through the wooden slats, I can see our entire family in the yard, cooking on the grill, kicking a soccer ball, and lying by the pool. I’m sure she can see them too. When she answers, it’s in a whisper.

“Yes, Annalise, but let’s keep this between us. Okay?”

I love secrets, even though I’m not so good at keeping them. “Okay! But what’s it for?”

“It’s for making a friend. I’ll say these words—” she points to a large open book that looks a little creepy, with a dark cover and crinkling yellow pages. It sits on an even creepier altar, beside another bowl filled with dark red paint. Bones and chains lie around it, alongside feathers and strange herbs, and Mom’s crystals. “— and after I say those words, and drink from that bowl, a new friend will appear.”

“I didn’t know spells could make friends,” I say. And it sounds really really nice, having someone to talk to. “Mom says magic can’t make someone like you.”

“Your mom doesn’t know everything.” She taps the side of her temple. “Now, run along. I think lunch is almost ready.”

“Can I help instead?” I take a few steps toward the seven-pointed star and she practically leaps from the floor, shooing me away, telling me the spell is too complicated for kiddos. But I’m not that young and I’m a very gifted witch; Mom said so.

I start to argue with her, but then Dad’s voice booms from down below. “Annalise! Annalise, where are you?”

Thudding footsteps follow, shaking the attic’s retractable wooden steps. My aunt’s pale face goes even paler as she stares at his emerging body. She scoots in front of the altar like she’s trying to stop Dad from seeing it. But it’s too late.

“What the hell is going on here?” he hisses.

“I was—”

Dad cuts her off. “Not in front of Annalise. We’ll discuss this downstairs.”

“Please don’t tell the others. I was just—”

“I said not in front of my daughter.” Dad storms past me—this big lumbering giant dressed in his favorite football jersey—and grabs my aunt’s shoulder, squeezing so hard she squeaks. He drags her through the room, over the still wet seven-sided star, leaving a red paint trail to the trap door. Dad shoves her in front of him and forces her to go downstairs, then glances back at me. “Go get lunch before your siblings eat it all. I’ll be outside in a few minutes.”

I don’t argue. There isn’t time to. Within seconds he’s downstairs, whisper-yelling about forbidden magic. Him and my aunt must go deeper into the house because their voices fade, then disappear. And suddenly I’m all alone.

I stare at the dark book, at the giant star, at the off-white bones. The spell is almost finished. Everything is ready to go. Curiosity guides my feet to the altar, and has me skimming the book’s stiff yellow pages. The spell isn’t in English, but the alphabet is normal. Easy enough to pronounce.

At the bottom of the page is a scribbled instruction that reads:

Upon reciting the incantation, you must state your intent—what you will use your summon for. Different intentions will summon different beings. Choose wisely.

It takes a while for me to sound out the instructions and guess what they mean. For only being eight years old, I’m a good reader, but slow. Still, I get the general idea.

I grab the book and shake off the dust that’s still sticking to its black cover. Then I walk to the seven-sided star, the wooden floorboards creaking beneath me.

This spell is for summoning friends. And I want friends, even just one.

My heart races as I stare at the trap door, then back to the star, knowing I’m not supposed to be here, and I’m definitely not supposed to be casting spells. Dad said this magic was forbidden. But what could be so bad about finding someone to talk to?

I clear my throat.