Brittany Geragotelis - Life's a Witch

“No problem, kid. You got someone there with you for the night?”

“My uncle’s on his way over and my neighbors are here now,” he said, looking over his shoulder and offscreen. I could hear another voice but couldn’t make out what the person was saying. When Peter turned back to me, he gave me a little smile. “I gotta go, but thanks for this. I feel a little better now.”

We said our good-byes and I waited until he’d closed the window and signed out to do the same. The stimulation of the past few hours was finally catching up with me and I was suddenly exhausted. Placing my computer beside me, I snuggled deeper into my pillows and closed my eyes as I went over the events of the afternoon.

Nothing like this had ever happened to anyone I knew. Not that I even knew what this was exactly. It was still possible that Peter’s mom had accidentally cut herself while chopping vegetables and his dad had rushed her to the hospital because she needed stitches.

And in their haste to get out of the house, they’d flipped over the furniture… .

And didn’t bother calling Peter to tell him where they were… .

And still weren’t back yet.

I know. Even I didn’t believe it.

But what was the alternative? That something bad had happened to Peter’s parents? That maybe we weren’t as safe in our own homes as we thought? That despite their magical abilities, Peter’s parents hadn’t been able to defend themselves against whoever had been waiting for them?

I opened my eyes and looked over at my door, which was still cracked open from when I’d come in earlier. “Noxum clasitor,” I said with a wave of my finger. Within seconds, the door had closed and locked from the inside.

Just in case.

The sound of my cell playing “Defying Gravity,” from my favorite Broadway show, Wicked , interrupted the dream I’d been having. I was confused at first, and glanced down at myself to see that I was still wearing my clothes from the night before. I jolted out of bed and looked frantically around my room. If anyone had been in here with me, they would’ve been able to hear my heart pounding in my chest, it was beating so hard. But after a thorough inspection of every corner of my room, I collapsed back onto my pillows.

I was alone.

I reached over and hit the snooze button on my phone. My alarm meant that it was 6:30 a.m. and that my mom would likely be pounding on my door any minute to make sure I was up for school. Before she could give me a second wake-up call, I rolled out of bed and padded into the adjoining bathroom to brush my teeth as I waited for the water in the shower to warm up. I turned on the radio before jumping in and allowed myself to sing along to one of Ke$ha’s songs, even though I wouldn’t be caught dead doing so in public.

I had a reputation to maintain, after all. And singing was one of the few things I wasn’t good at.

An hour later, I unlocked my bedroom door and peeked my head out, listening for the familiar sounds of my mom getting ready for work. I was met with silence, but headed down the hall anyway, glancing in her room along the way.

Empty.

The bed was made, which wasn’t unusual, since she always made the bed as soon as she got out of it. This didn’t mean that it had been slept in, though. My suspicions grew as I entered the deserted kitchen. One look at the cold coffeepot told me with certainty that she hadn’t been home the night before.

I opened up my mind fully, attempting to channel my mom, but I was getting nothing. Then I tried her cell. It rang, and when her recording picked up, I left a message asking her to call me as soon as possible.

My chest grew tight with nerves. Was she okay? Did something happen? Should I call the cops and tell them that my mother, who was a grown adult, hadn’t been there when I’d woken up this morning and hadn’t checked in yet? If I did that, I was pretty sure they wouldn’t take me too seriously. But there was someone who wouldn’t think I was silly.

I keyed in my dad’s speed dial and brought the cell up to my ear. I stood at the counter and stared out the window into the backyard as the phone rang and rang. Four times, then six. On the eighth ring, Dad’s voice mail clicked on and he was telling me to leave a message.

“Hey, Dad, it’s Had. I was just calling because I was wondering if you’d heard from Mom? Something happened at the Glovers’ last night and I don’t think she came home,” I said, trying to keep my voice under control. No need to get hysterical. Yet anyway. “Um, I was just kind of worried. I’m going to try her on her cell again, but can you call me back when you get this? Thanks, Daddy. Love you.”

I hung up and swallowed the lump in my throat. Then, to head off my hysteria, I busied myself with making breakfast, trying to appreciate the comfort that my morning routine brought me. I poured myself a bowl of cereal and then flipped on the TV, expecting my friends from the Today show to give me a distraction.

Instead, I saw something I wasn’t expecting. My hand stopped halfway to my mouth as I realized what I was watching on the screen in front of me.

“This quiet neighborhood was shocked and saddened yesterday when it was discovered that a young couple had disappeared from their home in what appears to be a violent kidnapping,” the newscaster said solemnly. It felt like she was talking to me, her eyes boring into mine.

Please don’t be talking about what I think you’re talking about.

“Those close to Mr. and Mrs. Glover say the couple is friendly and outgoing, and can’t imagine why anyone would want to hurt them,” the anchorwoman continued. “The couple has an eleven-year-old son who is beside himself with worry and grief and just wants his parents back safe and sound. If you know anything on the whereabouts of the missing Glenndale couple, please contact the number at the bottom of your screen.”

I dropped my spoon back into the bowl. I was finished eating. My stomach felt sick as the newscaster talked about the family I knew so well. Something about it being covered on television made it that much more real. And it meant that the coven hadn’t learned anything during their meeting.

That at least made me feel the tiniest bit better, because now I knew why my mom hadn’t come home. She and the rest of the Cleri were probably still working on the mystery behind the Glovers’ disappearance. That had to be where she was.

Suddenly, for the first time since I’d heard the news, I felt a wave of relief rush through me. Finally I could get on with my day without worrying. Good thing, too, because I had a quiz in science that morning and hadn’t studied for it.

And somehow I knew that the excuse of “Members of my coven were kidnapped last night and we’re waiting for the ransom—so I didn’t have time to go over the chapter” wouldn’t garner me much sympathy. In fact, it might actually get me a one-way ticket to the insane asylum. And maybe Kate Moss could pull off the straitjacket look, but I knew I couldn’t. Unless it’s custom-made in red.

I grabbed my bag and car keys off the counter and rushed out the door, determined to make it to school with enough time to cram in a study session before the first-period bell rang. As the car warmed up, I texted Sofia to bring my coffee straight to the library. I had a feeling I was going to need it.

By the time I’d made it through my first few classes, I’d pretty much forgotten all about what was going on at home. My science quiz had kept my mind locked on something other than the fate of the Glovers. School always had a way of doing that to me. It was the one place where I felt 100 percent in control of things. As class president, I made decisions based on what would be best for my classmates. I told everyone what to vote for and what they should care about, and I set the standards of what a good role model should be. When people went against my wishes, like by bullying other students or not holding up their side of a group project, I persuaded them to see the errors of their ways.