Life's A Witch

Chapter One

Chapter One

My body jerked violently as I woke up, just as the woman fell to her death. I was breathing heavily and my hair was matted to my head with sweat. My heart beat as if I'd just run a marathon, even though I'd been asleep for hours.

I looked over at the digital clock on my nightstand and cursed when I saw what time it was. I didn't have to be up for school for another hour at least, but I knew from experience that once I'd had this particular dream, there was no going back to sleep for me.

Great. So I guess I'll be applying extra foundation to cover the bags under my eyes today. I bet no one else has to worry about their beauty sleep being interrupted by the memories of a woman killed during the Salem witch trials.

I sighed and threw back my covers dramatically before hopping out of bed and making my way over to the bathroom. Pulling open the shower curtain, I turned the knobs in the tub until steam filled the room. A quick glance in the mirror showed me what I'd feared: I looked like I'd gotten only four hours of sleep.

That was actually the truth. I'd stayed up extra late, catching up with people on Facebook and adding friends who'd requested me. By the time I'd forced myself to crawl into bed, I'd accepted over twenty-five new people. My count was now at 11,280.

Did I know everyone on my friends list? No. But there was a very good chance they all knew me. I guess I'm what you'd call "popular" at my school. Not to sound snobby, but people seemed to be drawn to me. It's always been this way, and after a while, I stopped questioning it. Because who really wants to question popularity? Unless you're on the sucky side of it, of course.

I pulled at the bags under my eyes until they disappeared into my face. When I let them go, the puffiness returned, making me look much older than my seventeen years.

"Gross," I said under my breath, and made a face at my reflection. Knowing what I had to do to rectify the situation, I concentrated on the dark circles and said, "Delemin barrit."

I blinked and they'd disappeared. Smiling, I admired my fresh-looking skin from various angles, and then stepped into the shower and relaxed under the stream. Placing my hands on the wall in front of me, I let my head fall forward so the water was pounding across my neck and shoulders. Whenever I dreamed about Bridget Bishop, I woke up with the worst pain in my upper body. The rational part of me knew it was probably because of the stress, but the magical part of me wondered if my neck hurt because I'd been connected to Bridget when she was hanged in my dream.

An hour later, I was all washed up and heading downstairs to eat and watch CNN. Not many people my age watch the news, but I feel it's important to be knowledgeable on what's going on in the world. I hate being unprepared when people bring up current events. Besides, I think it's important to try to fight the stereotype that pretty girls can't also be smart.

I've been told on several occasions that I'm both.

Pushing the power button on the remote, I took the box of Fruity Pebbles out of the pantry and poured myself a generous bowl. Plopping down in the chair right in front of the TV, I let my legs hang over the armrests and started munching away. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day and I never missed an opportunity to start my day off on the right foot.

I tried to pay attention to what the anchors were saying on the screen, but after a few minutes, my mind wandered back to my dream. It was one I'd had before. Hundreds of times, actually. But it didn't matter how many times I dreamed it, I was always left feeling uneasy. Beyond the fact that it was totally messed up to watch this woman be hanged over and over again, I knew that what I was seeing had really happened.