Chapter 32
Gwen
Ibounced on the balls of my feet, my eyes glued to the edge of the lake, bow in hand.
I wasn’t allowed to nock my arrow until Ivy reached the top of her rock wall and zip-lined down to pass along our flag.
I could see the top of the wall just above the trees, searching for a flash of her static magic and a sign she was almost to the top.
Just beyond the hay bale targets, Faith waited behind a safety shield.
Once I hit the bull’s-eye, she’d run to the lake and swim the two hundred meters to the dock.
Unfortunately, I only had one shot to hit my target because Faith would need every extra second against the swamp monster she was swimming against. Talk about an unfair advantage.
“Come on. Come on,” I muttered to myself as I kept a keen eye on the zip line. “Any second now.”
I took a deep breath and tried to steady my shaking hands, but the nervous energy had to go somewhere.
I was surprised to find that winning the games meant so much to me.
I wanted to see my friends win just as much as I wanted to see those smug werewolves lose.
And more than anything, I wanted to know that I belonged among these amazing witches.
That I could control my magic, help claim victory, and earn my place as a part of the coven.
Somewhere along the way, I’d become fully invested. Sign me up to lead the camp sing-alongs, I was all in.
Finally, I saw Ivy’s head peek over the treetops, and a moment later, she was hurtling through the air. Two witch counselors waited at the bottom of the line to ensure she landed smoothly and was able to hit the ground running.
“Yes!” I screamed, wildly clapping and cheering her on. “Come on!”
My heart pounded in my throat the closer she got, her arm—and our flag—outstretched toward me. The camp colors whipped as I snatched it, waved it over my head, then dropped it to nock my arrow.
One chance. One chance.
I took my stance, the one I’d been practicing for days.
This was it.
I steadied myself with a deep inhale to concentrate my magic and pulled back my bowstring.
In my mind’s eye, I visualized the bull’s-eye and controlling the arrow.
Then, with a long, smooth exhale, I guided the sharp tip of my arrow to slice through the air and straight into the bright red bull’s-eye downfield.
Faith’s scream of glee reached me just as she snatched up the flag and took off.
She raced toward the lake and dove headfirst off the short dock.
The werewolf next to me growled their impatience when their rock climber reached them.
Ivy came running, grabbed my elbow, and together, we took off to the edge of the lake to watch.
Faith would have to swim to the floating dock in the middle of Lake Nevermore, then pass the flag to Celeste and the rest of the canoe team, who would paddle to the other side.
There, Astrid and her wheelbarrow partner were waiting for the last event, and we just had to hope we’d bought them enough time to reach the finish line first.
The gangly swamp monster jumped into the lake right as Faith reached the dock ladder, but damn was he fast. He was already one hundred meters into his swim by the time Faith climbed the wobbling ladder and handed off the flag to Celeste.
Swamp monsters looked a lot more fishlike than I’d expected, and they sure as hell knew how to swim.
His head popped out of the water only moments later, and he propelled himself onto the dock like a fish leaping from the water.
He’d gained so much ground so quickly that within a heartbeat, the monster canoe was off and chasing after our own.
“How will we know if we won?” I danced on my tiptoes as if being taller would somehow make it easier for me to see four hundred meters across the lake.
“Come on, we can get closer.” Ivy took the lead through the camp to the firepit, where everyone else was waiting.
I’d done my best to fight the urge to look for Sabine in the crowd until I’d finished my relay task.
Despite being the least sporty person alive, telling myself to “keep my head in the game” had been enough to do the trick.
It was hard enough competing alongside seasoned witches, let alone wondering if Sabine’s shimmering eyes were watching me from the crowd.
Was she proud of me for getting a bull’s-eye on the first try?
Nope. Can’t think about those things. It shouldn’t matter anyway.
“Watch the sky just over those trees.” Ivy pointed off to where there was a clearing amongst the trees. “That’s where the Lycanthropy camp will send up the winning flare. It’s going to be purple,” she proclaimed with a resounding cheer. “Because we are winning this year!”
We reached the firepit, where every other SCUW cabin and counselor waited for the final flare.
My heart was in my throat as everyone focused on the spot Ivy had pointed to, but it wasn’t the anticipation driving my pulse.
I looked through the crowd, searching for the mop of red hair and bright smile that I’d been missing so much, but Sabine was nowhere to be seen.
Dagmar had left Iris in charge while she waited across the lake with the other camp directors at the finish line.
Iris was busying herself by passing out the friendship bracelets that would commemorate the year’s games.
Celeste and Faith found us in the crowd, both still dripping wet from the lake.
“I got too excited and fell out of the boat as soon as we made it back to the boathouse.” Celeste laughed. “Has the flare gone up yet?”
“Not yet—” The sound of a firing flare gun in the distance cut me off.
Before I even had a chance to crane my neck skyward, the entire camp erupted into cheers around me. Then, I saw it: a thick streak of purple smoke split the sky.
We did it! We won!
Astrid had made it across the finish line first, and if she were standing on this side of the lake, I would’ve wrapped her up in the biggest hug.
I forgot how horrid she was for a brief moment because we’d won.
The witches danced and screamed and cheered under the purple-streaked sky, while some sent up flashes of colorful magic to look like fireworks.
The pops of red, green, and white lit the way for the losers to walk back to their camps in shame.
The crowd cheered loud and parted to welcome the final victors in as they returned from across the lake.
All competitors were summoned to the inner circle, and when Astrid sneered at me when I joined, I was reminded why I didn’t like her and how even the witchy camaraderie I felt wasn’t enough to bring the two of us together.
But I refused to let Astrid dampen the joy filling my soul in that moment and beamed at her as she curled her lip.
“Everyone to the rec hall,” Dagmar’s amplified voice announced when the sparks died out.
“Even champions have a schedule to maintain.” Her gruff demeanor softened with a triumphant smile.
“We’ll continue the winning festivities inside. ”
We all filed into the rec hall and took our seats for the talent show.
Tomorrow morning, everyone would wake up bright and early to pack before heading home.
For me, that meant the start of my new life in the coven.
The butterflies in my stomach fluttered faster at the thought.
I’d never lived with anyone besides my parents, but rooming with Faith in Maple Hollow felt like stepping into a new world.
I’d tumbled through the looking glass, and I didn’t want to return to a world without magic again.
Faith, Ivy, Celeste, and I all sat in a row in the middle of the room.
None of us had planned a talent to share, but they’d all told me it was an excuse to show off the skills we’d learned during our time at camp.
In my opinion, though, the best part of the closing events was the air-conditioning and snacks.
Dagmar stood in front of the crowd and started off the show with a quick and oddly heartfelt speech.
“In all my years as camp director, I have never seen as much growth, determination, and ferocity as I have in this year’s group of witches.
Each of you has shown great improvement in your skill, maturity, and magic, which you should all be proud of.
For many of you, this is your last night on these grounds.
” She paused and looked over to the line of counselors standing against the wall.
“And there are a few that I will truly miss.”
I glanced at Iris, who was wiping a tear from under her eye. She leaned her head on her sister’s shoulder, and my stomach clenched at the way Sabine wrapped her arm around her sister and squeezed. I knew so acutely what it felt like to be held in her arms.
“At the start of the summer,” Dagmar continued, “you were all given shirts to separate you into your cabins. But tonight, you’ll all wear a new color.”
She nodded to one of the other camp counselors, who held a dozen canvas bags overflowing with white fabric. Dagmar reached out an arm, and one of the shirts floated into her outstretched fingers.
On the front was the SCUW camp logo, and emblazoned across the back in bright yellow letters was “Champion.” My throat tightened.
I had played a part in that. And just like that, as if someone had snapped their fingers, I suddenly understood team sports.
Maybe there had been a time and place when I’d preferred running my own race, but right then, I liked being a small part of something bigger.
“Wear them with pride,” were Dagmar’s final words before she helped distribute the bags down the rows of chairs.
Everyone reached for a shirt, magically manifesting the right size the moment they reached inside one of the bags. After everyone had put theirs on, another counselor stepped up to the front of the room.