Southern Charms

Girl's Night

Three hours later and the events of this afternoon still rankled. Dressed in my comfiest sweats and socks, I lounged on the couch, my legs thrown over Willow's as we ate popcorn and dissected everything that was said.

"So, let's go back to the part where he said he was trying to be sexy," she said, tossing popcorn into her mouth. I glared, but she responded by grinning cheekily as she chewed.

"Let's not. Ash Goodwin is the type of guy who flirts with anything female. Clemmy probably isn't safe."

"That's because Clemmy is legit hot."

"You're disgusting."

Willow pulled her legs from beneath mine and reached for the poppet lying on the table. To anyone unfamiliar with witchcraft, the item looked like little more than a child's doll. Made from one of my old t-shirts, it was stuffed with herbs and stones- each of which I was sure had some terrible significance. I hated to admit it, but Mama was right. Studying would at least help arm me against the world I was forced to live in. Harmony had gone the extra mile and used hair from my brush for the taglock. It was now the same color as the hair on my head.

"So Alma said you just needed to wash the pink out of the doll, and your hair will go back to normal?"

"Yeah. I've washed it four times, and it hasn't faded at all."

"I'll check with my mom. She may have an elixir that will do the trick."

"Is it going to strip all the color from my hair? Pink is better than white."

"Well," Willow said, biting her lip, "I can't make any promises."

"Make sure you ask?"

She rolled her dark eyes and stuck out her tongue. "If I must. Sorry, by the way. About your arm and my bitchy cousin."

"I forget y'all are related all the time. I swear someone put a spell on you at birth."

"She forgets we're related too. At the last family gathering, she asked her mom who let the little queer witch in the house."

I winced. "I remember you telling me about that. I'm sorry."

My friend shrugged, her mouth screwed up to the side. Her long lashes touched her cheekbones as she stared at her hands resting in her lap. We might joke about forgetting she was related to the Goodwins, but the lines of her face would always remind us.

Sighing, she swiped a hand through her short brown hair. When her smile returned, it didn't curve as high, held down by the weight of sadness in her eyes. "It's cool. Jemina has been hateful since we were kids. It's nothing new. That's why I think it'd be awesome if you ended up with Ash. Burn her biscuits real good."

"Oh my word! Stop," I shouted, jumping to my feet and shuffling in the direction of the kitchen. The morning's gray clouds had cleared, but the temperature continued to drop. A few more degrees and I might light the fireplace. But it was just the right climate for hot cocoa.

"No, really," Willow continued, following me. "He was definitely flirting with you, and I've seen pictures of him. I mean, even I can admit the guy is fine."

I ignored her, filling the kettle with milk and putting it on the stove. She huffed and snapped her fingers. A shrill whistle pierced the air. 

"Did you have to do that?" I demanded, snatching it off the burner and pouring the hot liquid over the cocoa.

"Why not? It was faster." I dropped a spoon in her cup and shoved it into her hands, not caring that the rough maneuver made the drink slosh over the side. "What the heck, Rosey?"

"What?" I retorted, taking my drink back to the living room, "I was just trying to be fast. You're so damned impatient."

"Is this because I used magic?"

"What do you think?"

"So I have to stop being me because it makes you uncomfortable?"

"I didn't say that," I protested. But she'd hit the nail on the head. I thought I'd dealt with jealousy a long time ago, but something about what happened in the kitchen struck a nerve. It had been buried deep, but the events of the last couple of days shoveled away at the layers I'd constructed with such care.

"You didn't have to."

"You could've just let me make the damn cocoa. You could've let me do things the way I have to do them. Let me be me," I said, tossing her words back at her.

Willow's lips thinned, but the lines faded from her forehead as she unfurrowed her brows. In a solemn voice, she asked, "Is that why you don't want to give Ash a chance? Because you're insecure about not having magic? Rosey, I thought you were good with that."

"I don't want to give Ash a chance because he's a criminal. You and I both know you don't get sent to that school without screwing things up seriously."

"Hmmm."

"Hmmm? What does hmmm mean?" I knew exactly what it meant, and it pissed me off that I also agreed with it. Hypocrite, thy name is Rose.

Willow didn't explain; she knew I knew. But she did put her drink on the table, wiped the spilled milk from her hands, and crossed the room to wrap me in a hug. I drew a deep breath, my nose filling with the smell of earth, and released it.

"Better?"

"Yes." Sniffling, I scrubbed the back of my hand beneath my nose. "I'm just pissy."

"I hear you," she said, falling back on the couch and reaching for the bag of peanut butter M&Ms. She threw the bag in the air with a shriek when heavy pounding on the door echoed through the house.

"Nervous much?" I asked, flicking the porch light on.

"Is it Caly?" she asked, going for nonchalant and missing the mark by a mile.

"Knocking on her own door?" I rolled my eyes at her and opened the front door. It was my turn to be startled, though I managed to contain the shock to my nervous system. Tongue thick and heart pounding, I frowned at the tall boy in a tux. "Ash, what are you doing here?"