3. First Lesson
First Lesson
Seven comes too quickly. I’m almost crawling out of my skin.
I want to learn magic, of course I do. But that first step is always the hardest and there’s something life-altering about this. I know I won’t be the same person—for better or worse—once I fully embrace my witchiness. I’m on the precipice of something important and I’m terrified I’ll fall.
It makes me itchy. Irritated. Like I’ll snap if someone looks at me wrong.
Grandma has spent the last hour outside preparing everything and I swear I can hear her talking to the ground. Which, logically, isn’t that far outside the realm of possibility, since she’s an Earth witch.
But still.
“Ready?” Hazel asks, as she comes up beside me.
She’s so different now that she’s found Noah and isn’t living under the constant cloud of our mother. Confident, happy, unburdened. It’s hard not to take on the responsibility of knowing that she would’ve always been this way if not for me and Mom. Or maybe that’s the regular-sex glow.
“Is Noah coming over tonight?” I ask instead of answering. He stays over at least a few times a week now that they made up a month ago. It’s absolutely super adorable.
It’s also strange.
We haven’t had a man in the house since Dad. Emotion sticks in my throat like a thick wad of peanut butter whenever I think about it.
She nods. “Mhmm. He’ll be over after our lesson. Is it okay that he comes over so often?”
I side-eye her. “You’re expecting me to tell you not to see your soulmate regularly? To ban him from the house for no reason?”
Her hands fly up to grasp mine. “Of course not. But your comfort means a lot to me.”
“Luckily I’m fine.” I pull away. “Let’s do this thing.”
I turn from her guilt-ridden gaze and open the back doors. Dad fenced in the backyard when Hazel and I were kids to stop us from running off to God knows where. Now it’s all lit up. Twinkle lights drape across the posts and create a small area with Grandma at the center.
There’s a purple picnic blanket and three pillows where she stands. The flower garden twists and flourishes more than I’ve ever seen—especially in the winter—and the trees cast a bigger shadow.
It’s freezing, but Grandma has lit a fire in the fire pit with what smells like a variety of herbs, creating a hazy, smoky glow.
It’s beautiful.
“Wow, Grandma!” Hazel says, going down the back porch steps. “This is everything.”
“If you pull out a muumuu for me to wear, I’m leaving.” I step down as well, walking toward the pillows. Even with the blanket underneath them, the cold ground will seep through.
Thank God I wore my fleece-lined leggings.
A roll of Grandma’s eyes is her only reply as she arranges us on the pillows as she likes. With me closest to the fire.
The warmth against my back is comforting, homey.
It’s my element. I knew when Hazel explained them for the first time.
I just didn’t want to admit it to her for some reason.
Maybe because we’re in such a weird place, maybe because I’m a secretive bitch.
Either way, I haven’t told either of them—and I have a feeling that’s not going to cut it anymore.
Every witch has one element they connect to, that helps us harness our magic. Hazel told me she knew hers was air because something happened that was out of her control. I think it was a breeze or something.
“Today, we will connect with ourselves and our element. Return to the basics, so we can build from a solid foundation,” Grandma says, her voice carrying across our space. “I am an Earth witch, Hazel is an Air witch. Laura, do you know your element?”
Fucking called it.
It makes sense that Grandma is tied to the earth, with her big, beautiful garden at her cottage and her grounding personality.
And I’ve noticed that whenever Hazel gets upset, it almost feels like there’s a small tornado whipping around until she calms down.
And Mom—her connection to water was obvious the moment she disappeared in that liquid globe with Draven.
I take a deep breath as they both stare at me. “You know it’s unsettling as fuck when you both just stare at me unblinking like that, right?”
Hazel cracks a small smile and I can’t help returning it. Underneath it all, she’s my sister.
“You didn’t answer the question,” Grandma sasses. Rosie—her ancient black cat—trots over from the porch and plops into Grandma’s lap. I didn’t even notice the little feline was outside. She’s been accompanying Grandma when she stays over and it’s nice having an animal in the house.
Mom never allowed pets.
“Fire.”
Hazel’s eyes light up like she’s a kid on Christmas morning. “Really? Fire? That’s so cool. How did you find out?”
Do I lie or do I tell the truth? Do I tell them that fire has been whispering unintelligible nonsense to me since I got my first period at ten? Or do I make up some oh-I-set-something-on-fire-once-whoops excuse?
They’re staring at me again.
“Does it matter? I don’t know how to control it and that’s what we’re here for,” I say instead. Not a lie, but also get-the-fuck-out-of-my-face enough to hopefully get them to drop it.
Hazel’s eyes dim as she settles back onto her pillow. I don’t really want to push her away, it’s just subconscious at this point. I don’t know how to ask for what I need from her to rebuild our relationship. I don’t have the words.
“I suppose you’re correct, if not a little bit rude about it,” Grandma says, frowning at me. “Lessons are about connecting with—and harnessing—your magic and control. Because your magic is as much a part of you as each of your toes.”
“Interesting choice. Got a thing about feet?” I needle her.
“If I did, it would not be about your gnarled claws.”
A laugh bursts from me just as the fire crackles and pops. “Nice!”
“Oh, you two are impossible.” The corners of Hazel’s mouth turn up despite the words.
Rosie mews, batting her paw against Grandma’s arm in what looks like utter frustration.
“Right you are, Rosie dear. Getting back on track, we start with meditation,” Grandma continues, closing her eyes. She crosses her legs and settles onto the pillow, relaxing her body.
“You don’t have to close your eyes, but you do need to focus on relaxing and listening.
” Grandma places her hands on the patch of ground purposefully left uncovered by the blanket, despite the cold.
“Feel your body, feel every connection point. Where your hands touch, where your legs touch. We’ll start at the top of our heads today. ”
Slowly, she has us tense and relax each muscle; it’s not long until I’m in a sort of trance. The air is thick and smoky, the fire crackling.
Whispering.
What are you saying to me? What do you want me to know?
I’m dry. Parched to the point of feeling like my skin will flake off in grains of sand.
Everything is hot.
Hot, hot, hot. And I can’t see. Can’t hear.
Only feel. Feel the lack of water and the heat. It’s so hot.
I don’t want to be here. I want to go home.
“Laura!” The call is jarring. “Laura!”
Hands are on my arms, shaking my body until I open my eyes to the backyard. To Grandma and Hazel. To the crackle and pop of the fire and the light of the stars in the sky.
“Laura, you were screaming,” Hazel murmurs, gathering me in her arms. For the first time in a long while, I don’t push her away. I burrow into her chest, into the refuge she provides.
“What did you see?” Grandma asks. I don’t like her worried tone.
How do I explain it? I don’t even know what I saw. How I did that.
I shake my head.
What just happened to me?