Southern Charms

Sulking

An electronic ping echoed in the room, and I dug the phone out of my back pocket. Flannery's name spread across the screen, and below it was a missed message from Willow. Wiping an escaped tear off my cheek, I flicked open the screen and read the messages.

Flannery: You're totally missing out on good junk food. Wish you were here.

I typed out a fast response wishing she could understand just how sincere my response was.

Me: Not as much as I do.

Willow: HEy1! HOW dId THE tESt Go/? Did my PotiOn dO thE TRIck

The mess of a text message made me laugh. Willow only used a cell phone to communicate with me, and she'd only recently started texting.

Me: If by trick, you mean caused me to have to make up the test, then yes.

Three dots appeared on the screen, and I waited for her response. The dots faded, popped up, faded, and then several minutes passed before two messages came through. The first was a partial message.

Willow: OH No, IM goiNg to

The second message was a voice clip, but after the first few seconds, it became obvious Willow didn't know she was creating the message.

"Mama, that spell you gave me? The one for calming anxiety and helping memory-" a muffled response- "Okay that's what I used, but I boiled it. No, that's what you said. You did not say burn it. Ah, hell Mama, Rosey has gone and slathered that mess all over herself. Stop your hollering, I'm com-"

I had to replay the message three times to hear it in its entirety. Each time I laughed a little harder, imagining Willow's pinched expression when her mother told her she was supposed to burn the poison ivy leaves. Small and earnest, my friend did not take criticism well, and I made a point to go easy on her tomorrow. It was an accident, after all.

I rolled up my sleeve and stared at the smooth, unblemished skin. Mama's healing Gift had fixed me right up. At least on the surface. The brief respite from my wallowing ended. There was no fixing the thing broken inside of me. If there was, my family would've found a way a long time ago. They'd tried everything from spells, potions, and rituals beneath every kind of moon. Each one ended the same- them frustrated and me powerless.

In the beginning, I'd been just as fired up about finding answers. Everyone had a story about the magic they'd seen me use as a child. Clemmy was particularly fond of a tale where I'd supposedly transfigured a skunk into a cat and set it loose in HindSight, the Goodwin's shop in town.

It wouldn't have been an issue, except that two year old me didn't have enough control to keep it from turning back into a skunk before it could be removed. Reina Goodwin swore she smelled like skunk for three days even after Mama gave her a Scent Charm. Clemmy said the woman was confused- she always smelled like that.

Every Thanksgiving, Daddy told a story about the disappearing brussel sprouts. Every time he moved the serving spoon near my plate, the offending food vanished. I was almost three. But after that, the incidents stopped, and by the time I was thirteen, I knew the only magic at play was wishful thinking. I was never going to be a witch.

The bedroom door blasted open, and I jolted upright, preparing to launch a slew of unladylike curses at my sisters. Only, it wasn't my sisters, and every single impolite syllable became ash in my mouth.

"Hello, Clemmy."

Clemmy, more grand witch than grandmother, didn't look a day over fifty, but she claimed she was over two hundred years old. Witches were long lived but not usually so well preserved. Papaw Leopold left Black Brier when he was a young man, headed to the coast with big dreams, and returned with a bride. Some people whispered she wasn't entirely human. The Voice Gift ran strong in our family- even I could sing well- leading most to believe there was Siren blood in our veins. Clemmy never said one way or the other.