Daughter of a Witch

A Little Bit of Fear, A Lot of Love

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the kitchen as Y/n sat at the table, her small hands gripping the edge of her cereal bowl. Her stomach churned, not from hunger but from the nerves twisting inside her. It was her first day of elementary school, and she was terrified.

"What if nobody likes me?" she mumbled, poking at her cereal with her spoon.

Agatha, dressed in her usual neatly pressed blazer for her history class at the college, placed a comforting hand on Y/n's back. "Oh, sweetheart, that won't happen. You are smart, kind, and absolutely wonderful. Anyone would be lucky to be your friend."

Still in her dark-colored scrubs from her early morning shift at the funeral home, Rio leaned against the counter with a smirk. "And if they don't see that, they have horrible taste, cariño."

Y/n huffed, clearly unconvinced.

Agatha crouched down to her level. "I know it's scary, but every big adventure starts with a little bit of fear."

Rio ruffled Y/n's hair. "And besides, you've got the two coolest moms ever. That already makes you the most interesting kid in class."

That got a small smile from Y/n.

The drive to school was quiet. Y/n clutched her backpack straps as they pulled into the parking lot. Her nervous energy returned in full force when they reached the classroom door, her tiny feet frozen in place. The other kids were already inside, chatting and finding their seats.

Sensing her hesitation, Agatha and Rio knelt down beside her. Agatha gently cupped Y/n's face, kissing her forehead softly. "You're going to be amazing, baby girl."

Rio grinned and dramatically kissed both of Y/n's cheeks, making an exaggerated smooching sound. "Go show them how awesome you are, princess."

Y/n giggled despite herself. Her mothers always knew how to make her feel better. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "Okay."

As they stood to leave, Agatha and Rio shared a glance, lingering at the door for just a moment longer before finally walking away.

The classroom was lively, filled with bright colors and a chalkboard with the teacher's name, Mrs. Harper, written in neat cursive. Y/n took a deep breath and found her seat, trying her best to shake off the nerves.

The morning passed with a mixture of excitement and unease. As Y/n sat at her desk, the rest of the class was engaged in a math activity. She raised her hand, hoping to ask Mrs. Harper a question about the worksheet.

Mrs. Harper glanced in her direction but immediately called on another student, a boy named Jack, who was sitting on the opposite side of the room. "Yes, Jack?" she said brightly, ignoring Y/n altogether.

Y/n lowered her hand, feeling the sting of being overlooked. She tried again, this time raising her hand a little higher, a little more confidently.

"Mrs. Harper?" she asked, her voice soft but clear.

Still helping Jack with his problem, the teacher sighed audibly and glanced up. Her smile was tight, almost forced. "Yes, Y/n? What is it?"

Y/n hesitated, unsure of how to continue. "I—I don't understand this part," she said, pointing to the worksheet.

Mrs. Harper gave a small, dismissive wave. "Just ask someone else. I'm sure they'll be happy to help."

Y/n's heart sank. She quickly looked down at her paper, trying to focus, but the words blurred before her. The others seemed to enjoy their work, while she felt like an outsider.

At recess, as Y/n sat alone on the bench, she couldn't help but replay the moment in her mind. What had she done wrong? Why was Mrs. Harper acting this way?