A RETELLING OF PRACTICAL MAGIC.
A 300-year-old family curse. A teenage witch with a broken heart. And a lone wolf determined to solve a missing person's case.
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For three hundred years, a witch family has endured a curse: any man an Owens girl d...
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I'm sitting with my arms crossed in the seat across from Principal Sherman, ogling every stuffed animal she has on the shelf. And boy is it a lot.
We're not talking like a few bears and cubs between family photographs. We're talking floor to ceiling, stocked shelves of every animal in the kingdom. Giraffes, tigers, bats, and bugs. The list goes on. I wonder if she has a thing for furries too.
"So that's your story and you're sticking to it, Ms. Owens?"
I glance up at the principal.
She's probably mid-forties, but since her divorce, she hasn't put much effort into herself, which sadly ages her. Wearing beige suits when she once donned vibrant dresses, her makeup is just as bland. And her hair seems to always be in a state of disarray. Right now it's loosely clipped with graying flyaways.
"Hmm?"
"You claim Bryant came onto you and wouldn't let you leave. But why didn't you just call for the teacher instead of kneeing him in the..." She coughs and gestures below the waist, rocking back in her squeaky chair.
"Because when you're trapped in a circle of bullies, you don't always think with logic."
"I see."
"No you don't. Otherwise it would be Bryant sitting here and not me."
"Watch it, Silver. You're already on thin ice."
I blow out a huge puff of air. "Isn't there something I can do? I'm not trying to graduate with a sexual assault offense on my record."
Mrs. Sherman sniffs, glancing at her computer. "Look, I know the last six months have been rough for you. It says here that you've been having counseling sessions since the accident. How has that been?"
I snort. "I'm pretty sure I learn more about handling grief from TikTok."
There's a grunt of disapproval.
Now is not the time to be a smartass.
"Sorry," I mumble. "They're going fine."
There are some clicks on the computer. "Well your grades are doing phenomenal. Says you've maintained a 4.2 GPA the last two quarters."
Yeah, it turns out it's easy to throw yourself into school when you're trying to forget about your dead boyfriend.
"Yep." I scratch my septum piercing.
"What colleges are you looking into? State? Ivy League?"
"Haven't thought that far ahead, Mrs. Sherman."
I'm still just trying to move one foot after the other. It's a win if I eat one meal a day.
"But it's already March."
"I'm aware." I shrug. "Guess I don't like thinking about college yet."
Truth is, Michael and I were planning on going to State together. We were going to apply at the same time, look for apartments, and even do the tour. It feels like such a betrayal to do all that without him.
