Life's A Witch

Chapter Three

"Please tell me you didn't say that, Had," my mom said as she put a plate down in front of me. "Jackson's an elder and deserves your respect. He could mean the difference between you tapping in to your heritage or letting your craft fizzle out. And besides, what he's teaching you could actually save your butt one day."

We were sitting at the kitchen table, a pepperoni and onion pizza between us, the cheese hot and gooey. I'd been so fired up about what had happened at the meeting that I'd made the mistake of participating in some mother/daughter share time before dinner. You'd think I'd have learned by now: when in doubt, fill your mouth with cheese so you can't get yourself into trouble with your mom.

"But, Mom, he asked me a question and all I did was answer. I wasn't being disrespectful . . . I was just being honest," I said between bites. "And isn't it you who always says that honesty's the best policy?"

Mom tilted her head at me, not at all amused with my ability to argue about anything. In this case, however, I didn't have the power to convince her to see things my way. I wasn't sure if it was the familial lineage or that her magical skills were simply stronger than mine, but what usually worked to my advantage on others fell flat whenever she was around. It was a minor setback that I was constantly working to rectify. In the meantime, it was just plain annoying.

"Hadley Anne Bishop, you know that's not what I meant. Yes, you should tell the truth, but not at the expense of being rude," she said. "I've seen you around your friends and classmates and you'd never talk to them that way. If one of your friends was having a bad hair day, you wouldn't say they looked like they'd been hit with the ugly stick, would you?"

"There's an ugly stick?" I asked, suddenly interested in where this conversation was going.

Mom's eyebrows knit together in frustration. My face fell as I realized there was no magic wand out there that granted or took away beauty.

But what if there were . . .

"Don't even think about it, Hadley," she warned. My mouth dropped open, a piece of pepperoni falling to my plate. She'd managed to read my mind again.

I have to stop letting her sneak in like that.

"I don't understand why you're so amicable with your friends, but when it comes to the rest of us—your family and coven—you're so . . . combative."

"I'm not combative," I mumbled. But I knew it was true. For some reason when it came to other witches, I simply didn't hold back. Why was that? Maybe because they knew all my secrets? There was definitely something a little scary about someone really knowing you. And the truth was, the kids at school—even my good girlfriends—didn't really know me. Well, not the whole me, at least.

"Case in point," my mom said. "And in this case, you're wrong."

"I'm just thinking rationally. Look, Mom, you know I don't believe in this whole prepare-to-die, epic good-versus-evil battle stuff. I know you and Dad and the other elders want me to think the same way as you, but I'm sorry, I just don't. I stopped believing in the boogeyman a long time ago, and as far as I'm concerned, the Parrishables are just one big boogeyman. They don't exist. And until I have proof that they do, I'd rather be worrying about something else," I said.

My mom closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing. "For a girl who's usually so smart, you're incredibly naive sometimes, Hadley," she said.

The comment caught me by surprise and my blood began to boil with anger.

"I'm not the naive one here. You are," I spat. "Look, I agree that what the Parrishables did to our family and others over the past three hundred years sucks. At one point, they were a real threat and if I'd been alive back then I would have taken them all out. But living our lives always looking over our shoulders when there's not even any proof they're still a threat? I just think there are better things I could be doing with my time. Things that actually matter."