Witch in Hiding (#1 in the Witches Trilogy) (EDITING)

Two: The Jessica Episode

It's still February, it's still the start of a new school year, it's still the honeymoon period where everyone is treating everyone with the type of politeness you treat strangers with. No drama, no bitching, no backstabbing, except the ones that got carried over from last year.

Fortunately, the people that came up with me are all friends of mine—extremely cool people, in fact, that have just the right balance of crazy, stupid, smart and trendy.

So, scene: it's break. Melbourne—stocky, tan, likeable—looks at me thoughtfully and says, "Vin, I think you need to sleep more, because the eyebags are not helping the evil look."

"I was Skyping Ver past midnight. Also, I need to borrow your worksheet?"

"No, I think the evil thing could work." Van—slightly ditzy, cheery—tilts her head at me, pretending to study me closely. "You know, never too early to start getting ready for Halloween, and stuff."

"Ha, ha."

"You could be, like, a witch. Not like Harry Potter but like Sabrina. But eviller." She brightens. "I would totally be the cat!"

Mel frowns. "We were going to be Raven!"

"I mean, you can be Raven, and I can be a cat..."

As they bicker I start to feel the multiple bottles of water I had earlier. I stand up. "While you guys sort this super important thing out, I'm going to the bathroom for a sec."

Contrary to popular belief, Mel and Van do not offer to follow me. "Go find Jess," Mel calls after me, referring to our missing friend, who vanished ten minutes ago to the bathroom, "she's been gone forever." Then she turns back to Van. "Last October, you promised, Raven!"

I get to the bathroom. The door is closed—weird, it's usually propped open with something because the handle's fallen off. I push the door open, and just before I go in, I see someone already inside. It's Jess. She's staring broodingly at the mirror, at her own reflection.

Then I realise something. In the mirror above the sinks, I see the cubicles, I see the hand-dryer, the paper towel dispenser, the trash can. But I can't see what should be the most obvious object of all—Jessica. Right where she should be standing is a pure empty space.

Her eyes are fixated on the reflective surface, maybe trying to find her MIA reflection. I'm already seriously spooked out when I drop my gaze—and notice that Jess' toes are just brushing the ground. She's hovering over the floor.

Suddenly she catches sight of me and with a gasp, falls to the tiles. I rush in there and help her up, and as I do I look in the mirror again. And started to feel really freaked out.

I can see Jess again.

At this point she looks at me. "Thanks, Vin," she says like her reflection didn't disappear. I wonder if I'm seeing things as she smiles at me—a weird creepy smile—and leaves. I run my hands under water, even though they're perfectly fine, barely noticing what I'm doing, and then go back to where Mel, Van and Jess are waiting, the Halloween argument apparently over.

"You took so long in there," Van complains. "Hurry, or we're going to be late for class."

I stare at Jess. She catches my eye. "What?"

I stare at her some more. She starts looking at me weirdly. Like I'm the weird one. "Nothing," I say after a while. Mel and Van are listening in. They give me weird looks too, but I'd rather they not consider the alternative, which they definitely would if I told them—that I'm actually going crazy. 

*

It's the day after Valentine's. Mom is back to her usual self, so after dinner (homemade lagsana) and over dessert (homemade cheesecake) I get up the nerve to ask. "Mom," I venture. I pause, nerve faltering. I've been battling with this the whole day. I planned to ask her the minute she walked in the door from work—the minute turned into an hour which turned into three. "Did you know I'm not the only one?"

My mother pauses for far too long. Then she goes back to sipping her chamomile tea. "Not the only one what? Failing algebra?"

"Ha, ha. I meant, did you know I'm not the only one with powers?"

She stares at her tea. "Vinni..."

My mom is beautiful. She looks like she's in her early thirties, although she's actually closer to forty, and she's going to be the type of woman who ages well. Naturally tall and lean, with high cheekbones and silky straight hair, she's not the dazzling type of pretty you'd see on the red carpet but she's pretty a more authentic way, a more smart-businesswoman type of way. She's beautiful, and right now it just adds to my frustrations. I remember waking up aged twelve with her sitting at the breakfast table, hands clenched around a coffee mug, lips pursed, like she really didn't want to do something. This has never been what she wanted.

"Mom, it took me blowing up the coffee table for you to even tell me. And you haven't said anything since then. Since my birthday. Since last August. That's six months." I stare at her. She doesn't reply. With a sudden surge of annoyance, I shoot out impulsively and lift her teacup.

From across the table.

She looks at it, then looks at me. But before she can say anything, I lose control and it drops. I wince for the smash, but Mom catches it deftly. A breath rushes out of me. I'm almost shaking. The exertion is ridiculous. I can blow up a coffee table, but I can't lift a teacup. Of course, I didn't mean to blow up the coffee table. "Mom, I know you know more than you're telling me. I don't know what I can do, I don't know how to use my own powers. And what's the point if I can't?"

"There doesn't have to be a point to everything."

She tucks a stray piece of brown hair behind her ear. "What's with the sudden question, Vinni?"

"Jess is like me." I exhale, re-imagining the scene. "She's got magical powers. She was floating—she didn't have a reflection—that's like a ghost thing, right?" I'd spent the better part of the day cataloguing magical creatures, aka Googling. "And if Jess is one, then other people are too."

"It's not that common, Vinni."

"I'm going to talk to her, Mom. If you're not going to tell me anything I'm going to talk to her." Mom won't tell me anything—after that one revelation (the stories were true, etc etc, I was a special snowflake, etc etc, great power comes with, etc etc) she clammed up completely. The only thing I know about this world she hints at is that it's there, she's part of it (although she's never told me how), that it's a hodgepodge of magical creatures, and that I'm a witch. Not that I know what that entails.

"Vin, you'll start when I feel you're ready."

I fold my arms, poking at the cake. "And when's that?"

She throws up her hands helplessly. "I don't know. Maybe in a couple of weeks."

"That's what you always say. How am I not ready?"

"Vinni, please."

"Are you worried about me? Mom, I'll be fine. If you don't want to teach me, can't you find someone who does?" I press her relentlessly. "And why don't you want to teach me?"

Finally she sighs, caving in. "I'm just not a good teacher, Vinni. Not good enough." Catching my expression, she adds, "but if you really want to, I'll try and find someone. Just give me some time."

I just need some time. That's exactly what my dad said, right before he left. I return to stabbing at the cake like it's a substitute for all my frustrations. That's what anything's always been. More time. Waiting. Hanging on. Twelve years before my mom told me I had magical powers. Nearly thirteen before she'd let me use them. Years waiting to see my dad again, until I wasn't even sure if I wanted to. Just give me some time. Sometimes it feels like that's all I have.