[COMPLETED] My grandmother is a witch. My mother is a witch. My sisters are witches. Even my daddy is a warlock when he's not moonlighting as a rat (a consequence of the aforementioned grandmother's temper).
So you would think I would be a witch to...
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Just a disclaimer- The title isn't set in stone, and this chapter is a very, very rough first draft. It'll likely be longer (so be kind).
But even with its imperfections, I hope you enjoy it. I figured it would be something nice to show I am working on the sequel, and maybe it'll break up the boredom of quarantine just a little bit.
Chapter One
I stopped counting when I reached one hundred, but I didn't stop watching the raindrops drip from the eaves of my hiding place. Like gray diamonds, they clung to the edge, stretching until the tear shape almost disappeared. Then, the tension broke and they rushed downward, their glassy shells filling with dim daylight before splatting onto the ground. All that they were gone- absorbed into the soil.
My eyes tracked upwards to catch the next drops forming, knowing already that they would fail to hold on, and the voice inside me- the one growing stronger everyday- whispered that the rain had a better chance of not falling than I did of not failing.
"Rose! Rose Wych!"
The discordant tones of my new teacher, Cybil Flowers, rattled about the school yard, and I tugged my knees closer to my chest, making sure the tips of my boots didn't peak beyond the barrier. For two weeks now, I'd been a student at the Francis Barrett Academy of Witchcraft despite lacking the all so important craft part of being a witch. It had been my father's idea, and one of the rare occasions Mama agreed with him.
To be honest, I agreed as well. After all, I couldn't go back to St. Augustine's now that we'd wiped Flannery's memory, and my lack of basic magical knowledge had nearly led to my demise on more than one occasion. But being here was made more difficult by two factors outside of my missing magic.
Ash was studying advanced courses.
And ten year olds were mean.
Avoiding Ash was easy enough. Especially considering he didn't seem to want to be around me. Could I blame the guy, really? If refusing to speak to him for weeks wasn't bad enough, I had to go and get caught sneaking off in the opposite direction just to keep him from seeing me.
I picked at the polish on my nails as I recalled the blank expression he wore when we parted ways. That hurt worse than seeing anger or sadness. It was like he didn't care.
"Rose! Mary, have you seen the youngest Wych girl?"
I bit back a groan. Mary Waldrop was the Headmaster, and she was a witch in every sense of the word. Her daughter, Lilith was a carbon copy, and she was the one who drove me into hiding today, the little gap-toothed, red-headed menace... I rolled my eyes. Who was she to call me a dim-witted, magical moron? Really, where did she learn words like that at ten?
I leaned back so I could line my eye up with the slight crack in the shed's wall. Mary and Cybil stood next to each other, both of them scanning the yard. Rain stopped just above their heads, striking an invisible barrier and sliding down around them in a gentle stream.
