Hoodwinked

12: The Shining Stars

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You shift, uncomfortable in the chair you're sitting in as Emira ties your hair up in a half-ponytail.
You certainly look presentable. You smell decent, and you're wearing a tunic without any creases or dirt stains. Your shoes are polished and your eyebags aren't totally noticeable.
But mentally? You're freaking out.
Emira can see it in the mirror, so her golden eyes meet yours in the glass you stare, "(reader), are you okay?"
You force a smile, "Totally. I'm fine."
Edric, who's sitting on your bed and sipping a juice box, "We can tell when you're lying," he hums as he scrolls on his penstagram.
You snap your neck trying to glare at him, but Emira steadies your head to face the mirror again. She spritzes some hairspray on your head, the dizzying vanilla scent causing you to feel a little woozy.
"Okay, spill it," Amity demands, "What's going on?"
You sigh, slumping in your chair and letting your smile fall, "I'm nervous is all. I mean, the program's gonna be filled with prissy, gifted kids who have been training their entire lives for this! And I've only been learning about abominations for a little bit. How can I make the judges just notice me when there's a million other talented people there? I've got nothing gifted about me."
Emira scoffs, "You know that's not true. You've got so much to offer!"
"Yeah," cuts in Amity, "Like how you're learning abominations plus oraclancy, which you're really good at. And you're also taking potions and bard as a side! That's something, right?"
"Way better than those one trick contestants!" Edric grins, looking up from his scroll to smile at you.
Your breathing soothes, only a little, "Yeah. I guess so. Thanks,"
"Okay, you're good to go," Emira announces, so you pull yourself out of the chair, "Thanks," you mutter, again, and reach for your duffel bag.
But in a wave of magenta, it floats into your hand. When you look up, your lavender-haired sister stands, giving you a small smile as the spell circle from the tip of her finger disappears.
"Thank you." you repeat again, and Amity laughs. "You say that a lot."
You shrug, "I know. But I mean it."
You glance back to the mirror, your eyes staring at themselves. You're tired, you know that much. Your face says it all.
Your bedroom door opens all of a sudden, and your father is poking his head, "(reader), we're leaving in ten minutes."
One last glance, your eyes drifting from Em's to Ed's to Amity's faces, then you turn around and follow your father.

•─────•

"(reader)?"
The softness of Amity's tone surprises you, and you shove your duffel bag in the coach before looking at her.
Amity's fiddling with her skirt, something she did when she was nervous. She stares at your shoes before glancing up at you.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" her voice quivers and it is hesitant. "I mean, I've been to programs in the past and let me just say, the competition is terrifying."
"I'm sure," it takes you no time to reply, and you know you mean what you say. "I have to do this,"
"But why?" she inquires, "I don't get it, (reader). Why are you so insistent on doing this for me?"
It takes you a while to respond, because your honest answer is — you don't know. You don't know why you feel compelled to take the youth program, to join the emperor's coven in Amity's place. You don't understand it fully.
Or maybe you do.
You struggle to say the words at the tip of your tongue, "Look, Amity. Before you were forced to do this, to keep up with Mother's impossible expectations...once, that was me. I was the one she pushed to do what she wanted, to join the oracle track. I was fed up with it, so I just...rebelled. And it worked." you inhale shakily, guilt eating up your mind as you let the words tumble out of your mouth without another thought, "Until you came along, and she found you were a much easier target. So she shifted the shit from me to you, a-and I just feel really guilty about it, because if it weren't for me you wouldn't being feeling all this stress and I know it's my fault, and I didn't do anything about it until now, and–"
You're cut off when arms coil around your body, Amity's head leaning on the crook of your neck.
"I don't blame you, (reader)."
That's all it takes, and most of the doubts melt away right on the spot. Maybe you just needed to hear it from Amity herself, or maybe you had to say it aloud, but the knot in your stomach unties itself as you embrace her back.
It's still there. The guilt of staying silent as your sister, your baby sister, had to deal with all of that. All that stress, all the expectations. But it's quieter now.
You and the lavender-haired witch stay like that, and the world is still around you.
This is what you needed. The closure you wanted.
She breaks away finally, after a few seconds. And you stare at Amity, and flashes of memories play like a movie in your head. Brown haired Amity, seven years old, obsessed with Good Witch Azura stands before you. Then she shifts into thirteen year old Amity, minty haired, closed off, always tired.
And then it fades away. Now she has lavender hair, short, and she's happy. She's changed so much.
And you're proud of her.