Chapter 5
Gwen
The rec hall was full of young women and nonbinary people of all different shapes, sizes, and ethnicities.
I’d been worried that I’d be walking into the land of small-town homogeneity, so I was happy to find that paranormal communities didn’t fit the stereotype.
And I was pleased that I wasn’t the only queer witch of the bunch either.
Far from it. I found many of my fellow campers wearing friendship bracelets in the colors of the bi, lesbian, ace, trans, and nonbinary flags, amongst others.
Actually, the more I took in the group, the more I realized most of them were part of the rainbow community.
That tracked, I supposed. The Venn diagram of queer people and witchy people was more of a circle.
I pursed my lips and nodded. Well, at least I wouldn’t stick out for being pansexual in this group. I wondered if I’d have to make the bracelet myself or if the pin I had on my backpack was enough of an identifier.
At first, the others just looked like normal campers with SCUW T-shirts of varying colors, but upon closer inspection, they all had slightly witchy vibes too. Many had nature tattoos or wore crystals around their necks or rings with the moon phases. Hints so subtle I’d almost missed them.
I was just starting to feel confident that I might slot right in when the raucous chatter diminished to nothing the moment Mom and I walked to the center of the room. All eyes turned toward us as if a spotlight had suddenly ignited upon the out-of-towners.
It was a reception I was all too familiar with. I’d been the new girl every year for my entire life. I didn’t know how to be anything but an outsider. Still, I found the reactions a tad overdramatic.
“Ignore them,” Mom whispered, leading me toward a gaggle of girls in olive-green shirts. “Here we go. First years.”
“I’m older than most of them,” I muttered, folding my arms tightly across my chest. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me.
“You’re a late bloomer in the magic world,” Mom replied, giving me flashbacks of training-bra shopping at JCPenney when I’d been a preteen.
The rest of the first-year campers were all eighteen—not a huge age difference, but enough of one to make me stick out even further.
“You’ve got to start at the beginning, hon.
Most of these girls grew up around magic.
You’ll need this summer more than anyone to catch up. ”
“And whose fault is that?” I hissed. “None of the other parents are in here,” I added. “Why don’t you just go?”
Mom frowned, her shoulders drooping. “Okay, honey,” she said, hugging me. “Be safe, and I’ll see you in two months. I love you.”
I returned her embrace with an unsympathetic pat on the back.
Mom and Dad were the only people I tolerated hugs from.
The lack of PDA was one of the many things that Brayden had hated.
I wasn’t a physical affection kind of girl, so even though we’d been sleeping together for weeks, we’d never cuddled or canoodled or draped ourselves all over each other like other couples.
I pulled out of Mom’s arms, still feeling the sting of her betrayal as I murmured, “I love you too.”
I didn’t watch her go. Instead, I kept my head low as I found the end of the olive-green T-shirt line.
The only other girl not wearing green sidled up beside me, her eyes imploring. “Please tell me you’re also from out of town?” she asked, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. “Because I really don’t want to be the only one.”
I raised a sheepish hand. “Guilty.”
She gave a little leap like an overexcited puppy. “Yay! I’m Faith. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Gwen,” I offered, shaking her eagerly outstretched hand. “Are we supposed to already have T-shirts or . . .”
“The Maple Hollow locals all picked theirs up before camp started,” she assured me. “I think we should be able to pick ours up with our welcome packet. So, where are you from?”
“All over,” I replied to cut the explanation short. “But most recently New York City. You?”
“Baltimore,” she said. “Our coven disbanded a couple years ago, and this is the one my great-grandmother grew up in. Honestly, I wanted to go to the one in Salem, but Mom sent me here for my initiations.”
“So, you knew you were a witch?”
Her eyes bugged. “You didn’t?” I shook my head. “Holy goddess, you must be totally freaking out right now.”
I shrugged. “The shock has worn off, but the anxiety nausea still comes in waves.”
Faith chuckled as she nudged me with her elbow. “Well, you’re definitely handling it better than most witches would.”
The blonde girl who’d almost run into Mom’s car sidled up to us, flanked by two other girls in matching white T-shirts, their judgmental eyes sweeping the crowd.
I nudged Faith’s arm and subtly pointed to the wannabe Plastics. “Who’s Regina George?” I snarked to Faith.
“That is Astrid Cunningham. Her grandmother is the high priestess of the coven. You do not want to get on her bad side.”
Yup, I was right. My intuition had never failed to alert me to potential threats.
Being the perpetual new kid had always made me the target for girls like Astrid.
Though, now I wondered if some of the misfortunes that had befallen the mean girls of my past had been magically linked.
I probably should feel guilty—especially since one of my bullies had ended up with so much gum in her hair that she’d had to shave her head—but pushed away the thought.
“How did you get the scoop on Astrid?” I asked Faith, taking a few steps to catch up with the line. “I thought you were new?”
“New to this place, not to the world of being a teenage witch,” she whispered back. “One of the counselors told me to give her a wide berth, not that I needed to be told. Astrid’s got top-bitch vibes. I spotted that walking red flag before I even got out of my dad’s car.”
“I thought they didn’t let dads into camp?”
“They don’t,” she said. “It’s warded against any non-witches. He dropped me off at the gate last night.”
“Last night? Didn’t everyone arrive today.”
“They made an exception due to my father’s vampirism,” she replied with a shrug.
I could see it now. Faith’s canines were just a little too long and her skin a bit too pale, bordering on sickly.
But aside from that, there was something deeply alluring about her.
All the other girls were bright and sunny, while Faith reminded me of early evening stars and that moment when the sun dipped below the horizon to plunge the world into darkness.
Her warm brown eyes shone against her dark brows and lashes, and her black hair was tied up into pigtails, which only furthered her resemblance to Alice from Twilight.
“Vampirism,” I echoed. “Of course. I should’ve guessed.”
She tilted her head. “I’m guessing you’ve never met any monsters out in New York City?”
“I wouldn’t say that. The last history teacher I had was pretty ferocious.” That elicited a bell-like giggle from her. “But I’m guessing I wouldn’t have known, even if I had encountered anything truly supernatural. I don’t know what to look for.”
“By the end of summer, you will,” she replied. “If we don’t get murdered by Bitch Witch Barbie first.”
I snorted and leaned a shoulder into her. “I think you and I are going to be good friends, Faith.”
She beamed up at me.
The line kept moving, and a redheaded counselor called, “Next!”
Faith shot forward to give her name, and that was when a manicured hand landed on my shoulder. I peeked at the long stack of friendship bracelets that rose from the person’s wrist, all the way up to mid-forearm, confirming I already knew who it would be.
“Look what we have here.” Astrid scowled, her glossy lips curling into a sneer. “An outsider with no magic.”
“I have magic.” My cheeks heated. “I turned my ex-boyfriend into a toad.”
One of the girls behind Astrid lifted her eyebrows as if impressed, but Astrid just rolled her eyes.
“And one accidental burst of magic means you’re worthy of our coven?
” Her bright blue eyes scanned me from head to toe.
“Why don’t you just run away like your mom did?
It’s the only thing you Elmwoods are good at. ”
“My surname is Morales,” I bit out.
“She took her father’s last name!” Astrid tittered, turning to her friends, who all joined in her fit of giggles. “Figures. My mother always said yours should have been a normie from the start.”
“Not that it’s any of your business,” I snapped. “But I didn’t even want to come here.”
Astrid quickly sobered, her mocking smile replaced with a vicious glare.
She spread a thin arm toward the door. “Then go, outsider,” she said.
“Because I promise if you stay, this is going to be the worst summer of your life. Harmony Morales and her kin are coven traitors, and we don’t take kindly to traitors. ”
I put my beat-up duffel bag down to step into her space, looking down my nose to meet her eyes. I’d never once backed down from a fight and wasn’t going to start now, even if she might be able to turn me into a bat or something.
“Listen, Sabrina, I don’t need any of your small-town witchy superiority, okay?
” I narrowed my gaze and flashed the cocky smile that three years of kickboxing classes had given me.
“Why don’t you go play with your cauldrons and crystals or whatever the fuck it is you do in this backwoods hellhole and leave me the fuck alone. ”
“Hellhole, hmm?” Astrid’s smile went feral, and she clicked her fingers. “Okay.”
Fire erupted all around me. My shirt burst into flames, the searing heat boiling my skin. I shrieked, patting out the singed spot as the smell of burned cotton and flesh filled my nostrils.
I blinked and looked back down, but the burn mark was gone, my skin untouched.
My mouth fell open as I gaped at Astrid. “What the fuck was that?”
“It’s my witchy superiority, as you so eloquently put it,” she said with a sickeningly sweet smile. “Now, why don’t you leave or the next fire spell will be more than just a vision.”
The girls behind her grinned like guard dogs waiting for the command to attack.
Screw this place.
I grabbed my duffel bag and hoisted it back onto my shoulder, the rough fabric biting into my skin.
“I’m out of here,” I muttered and stormed toward the door, refusing to look back when Faith called out for me.
A week ago, I’d been a happy college student on summer break, and now my world had been turned upside down. But I couldn’t go back to when I had no knowledge or awareness of the magic bubbling under my skin.
Still . . . I could just pretend that the last week had never happened and go on living my life. I could join the Sinclair Society, start working my way up a ladder at a marketing company, and live a happy life in New York. A life far, far away from trees and pollen and mosquitoes and witches.
I stomped down the path toward the parking lot, kicking up a cloud of dirt, but Mom’s car was already gone.
Shit.
I took out my phone but, of course, there was no service. I wondered if they had warded this place against cell signal because I’d had full bars before we’d turned off the highway.
Yeah, I was definitely getting murdered here.
I looked at the forest on either side of the clearing. The only sign at the edge of the parking lot pointed toward the two-lane state road.
Maple Hollow: 5 MILES
I’d scoped out the area on my maps app on the way here and remembered that the small town sat at the eastern edge of the wide lake.
It was probably only a mile or two if I stuck to the water instead of the road.
Maybe by some miracle, cell service would come back to life on my way there.
I’d seen plenty of TikToks and YouTube live streams of tourists walking through the Maple Hollow town square, still spooky well into summer.
So at least I had some proof that there was a tower close by to assist me in my escape.
I glanced back and forth between the sign and the lake, my proverbial rock and hard place. I frowned down at my heeled boots. No, I could do this. I’d been a Girl Scout for a year in Maine. How hard could walking around a lake be?
Just as I took a tentative step onto the path, a large barn owl swooped down and perched on the rec center railing.
“I swear to god, if you start talking,” I warned the feathered creature, “I’m going to scream.”
It didn’t speak, but it nipped at the air as if it wanted to let me know I wasn’t welcome.
“I know, I know, I’m going.” I turned and started trudging toward the forest’s edge.
I held up my phone, centered the camera on myself, and applied a filter before I began recording.
Something about filming the experience took the edge off, as if I could hide behind the lens.
And if they found me dead or if I got lost in the swamp, they could watch it Blair Witch-style at my funeral.
Yep, that’s the spirit, Gwen.
“Well, guys, you’re never going to believe where I am today . . .”