Life's A Witch

Chapter Twelve

It took me a few days to recover from my conversation with Emory. The more I thought about the possibility of a traitor living under the same roof as us, the more freaked out I got. And of course, Fallon had gone back to being his regular annoying self, which made me wonder if he really was evil. Twice, I found him going through the stuff in my parents' room. He said he was looking for extra blankets, but I didn't buy it. He was under my bed, for God's sake. And then when I'd found him showing a bunch of the other boys embarrassing photos of me as a kid, I thought about using magic to knock him out so I wouldn't have to worry about him causing any more trouble.

It wasn't just Fallon I was suspicious of though. In fact, I found myself starting to question the motives of everyone around me to the point where it was difficult to be around anyone without my mind running wild with conspiracy theories. But I couldn't exactly barricade myself in my parents' bedroom and stay there for the rest of my life. Not only was it unrealistic, but being around the others was the only way I was going to find out who wasn't really who they claimed to be. And if I didn't figure that out, we'd most likely lose this battle.

And "loser" was not in my vocabulary.

So instead I forced myself to leave the safety of my room and wandered through the house, looking for something that might be able to distract me from our impending doom. I thought about making lunch for everyone, but when I got to the kitchen I saw that people had taken my instructions at face value; they'd been helping themselves to any food they could find. I picked up an empty can of Chef Boyardee and tossed it into the trash behind me. There were two half-eaten bags of chips on the counter and a turned-over box of cream-filled cakes lying across the table.

We had food with us when we arrived, but it would last us only so long—especially with a group as large as this—and eventually we'd have to go into town for more. The spread in front of me was proof that maybe the younger twitches shouldn't be the ones picking out the meals. Where were the vegetables? The fruit? Did they think that Skittles counted as a food group? Unwrapping a little cake, I popped half of it into my mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

"There you are," Sascha said, appearing behind me. Jasmine and Jinx were in tow. Sascha walked over to the counter and pulled herself up until she was sitting on top, her legs swinging through the air in front of her. Jasmine plopped down at the table, bringing one knee up to her chest and pulling at a loose string on her black jeans, while Jinx snatched a cake of her own and began to unwrap it.

"What's up, guys?" I asked, trying to sound as normal as possible.

"We're bored," Sascha said.

"And some of the others are getting on my nerves," Jasmine added.

I looked over at Jinx, waiting for her to complain about something, too.

"I'm just hungry," she said, shrugging before sticking her finger into the middle of the spongy cake to retrieve the frosting.

"Well, I think I can help you out with most of those," I said to them. "We're going to start training tomorrow, so you better be ready to work hard."

I leaned back in my seat and placed my feet on the kitchen table. If my mom were here, she would've lectured me about appropriate etiquette or said something along the lines of, "When you grow up and get a place of your own, you can put your feet up on the furniture all you want. But until then, feet on the floor." Thinking of my mom out of the blue like this made me sad and I slowly brought my feet down off the table out of respect for her memory.

"Finally. That's the most sane thing I've heard you say since this whole thing started. I've been itching to cast something," said Jasmine, wiggling her fingers excitedly.