Witches Don't Wear Socks

Witches Don't Wear Socks Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

I wished that the protection wards on my room also blocked out the noise of this household.

"But Mom, witches don't wear socks!" Raz yelled. I opened my bedroom door to find my 6 year old sister at the top of the stairs. She stood in her underwear with her hands on her hips and a wide-brimmed, pointy black hat on her head.

"I could dig out a pair of Grandma Stella's itchy black wool leggings for you, if you'd like." Mom's voice carried up the stairwell.

Raz gave an exaggerated huff. "I'll find something else!" She turned from the top of the stairs and spotted me in my doorway. "Hey, Alex. What are you being for Halloween?"

"Me. What are you supposed to be?" I was beyond slow, first thing in the morning.

"A scary witch," she cackled, raising her clawed hands next to her face.

"You don't look very scary."

"But YOU sure do!" Giggling and shrieking, she bolted for her room and slammed the door.

"Oh! Burned by a first-grader. Slipping at your game, are you?" Cassie's voice taunted. I rubbed my eyes to clear the too-early-morning-blur and saw my older sister ogling the mirror in the bathroom across the hall.

I hated morning people.

She was applying mascara, and, of course, was already dressed in her cheerleader uniform. Her long, chestnut hair was styled into cascades of ringlets, and a blush highlighted her fair, slightly freckled cheeks. Cassie had taken to Mom's Irish roots, while I had the darker complexion of my Mediterranean-born father.

Stepping out of my room, I felt the usual tingle and pull as I passed through the wards Grandma Stella had set over my room back when I was a baby. I dragged myself across the landing toward Cassie. "She's just lucky I'm not awake yet." I'd had another lousy night's sleep. That made for three nights in a row. I'd felt compelled to draw lately, which wasn't weird, yet my drawings had been, well – dark. I wasn't even sure myself what I was drawing, but I found them disturbing, and I had tossed most of the night, the drawings taunting me.

Cassie looked me up and down. "Aren't you going to dress up? The more people in your class in costume or school uniform, the more points you make, and the closer you are to earning a pizza party."

I leaned against the bathroom doorjamb, still too tired to stand on my own feet. "Oh yay. A pizza party. In class. With a bunch of morons. Next time, maybe."

"What do you mean, 'morons'?" Cassie was everybody's best friend.

"Boys. Need I say more?"

Cassie rolled her eyes and then continued with her mascara application. "Where is your school spirit? I can't believe you don't get involved in any school activities. What's wrong with you?"

"I didn't get that gene. Come to think about it, are we even related?"

"I'm guessing not." She closed the mascara tube and started tidying the countertop as she muttered her morning to-do list. "Clothes, hair, teeth, makeup, check. Left to do: pack up homework and lunch, have breakfast." She stared into the mirror, unseeing. "What am I forgetting? Can you think of anything I've missed?"

I snorted as I squeezed around her into the bathroom. She went through the same list every morning. "You forgot Solve World Hunger. Wait! What's that over there?" I pointed across the hall to my bedroom.

"Where?" As she turned to look, I gave her a shove, sending her onto the landing, and slammed the bathroom door.

"I wouldn't have fallen for that," I called through the closed door. Then again, in her defence, you never know what, or who, could pop up out of nowhere, in our household. If I were Cassie I'd have convinced the door to melt if someone did that to me. I'm sure the thought never crossed her mind; another reason to wonder if we really were sisters.