Moon White: Color Me Enchanted with Bonus Content (11 page)

I don’t think I could actually explain this euphoric feeling to anyone, not in a way that would make sense. I remember times when I was at Lucy’s church and people were worshiping God. To be honest, I never really got it. I never felt like I was participating, just watching. But I do feel like I’ve been worshiping just now. Although I’m not sure who I’ve been worshiping. Not “God,” since I’ve begun to question his existence. And I really don’t think I’m worshiping Satan either. Maybe I’m just worshiping life in general.

“Heather?” I hear Augustine calling from the top of the stairs. “You down there?”

“Yes,” I yell back. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

I turn on the lights and extinguish the candles and hurry up the stairs.

“It was so dark, I didn’t think you were there,” she says, looking at me curiously.

“Sometimes I like to dance by candlelight,” I admit.

She smiles. “That sounds enchanting.”

I nod eagerly. “It is.”

She touches my cheek. “Your face is flushed, Heather. You must’ve danced up a storm.”

I glance at the clock, surprised to see that it’s close to six. “I didn’t realize I danced so long, and I have a date with Hudson tonight. I probably should go clean up.”

“Did you want to ask me something earlier?” she says as she
pours a glass of green tea, then hands it to me. “You should drink something.”

“Thanks.” So then I tell her about the seminar.

“Sounds interesting,” she says, going over to look at the calendar on the refrigerator. “Hmmm, I think that’s the same weekend your dad’s going up to Portland to meet with that environmentalist legal beagle guy.”

“Oh, do you think that’ll be a problem?”

She turns and smiles. “I don’t see why.”

“Do you think Dad will mind if I go then? I mean, I guess I’m a little worried that he won’t get it, you know? Sometimes he’s kinda old-fashioned.”

“Would you like me to talk to him?”

“Would you?”

“Of course. I think it sounds like a great opportunity for you, Heather. I like that you’re taking an interest in new things.” She pushes a strand of damp hair from my forehead. “You really seem to be coming into yourself lately. I think that’s wonderful.”

I finish my tea. “Thanks. It is pretty cool. I mean, I feel like I’m finding my real self, Augustine, sort of like you’d been telling me I would.”

“I’m so happy for you, sweetie!”

“Thanks.”

“Your dad and I are going to the little theater in North Bay tonight, a play about Oscar Wilde’s mother.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Hopefully.”

“Well, have a good time,” I call as I head for the stairs.

“You too.”

After my shower, I’m trying to decide what to wear, and I’m
thinking I might try wearing the purple beaded bag as a necklace since it’s really pretty. So I try it on with several things, but none of them seem to be working. Finally, I realize that it’s close to seven and Hudson will be here soon, so I settle on a black turtleneck, which actually looks sophisticated and makes a nice backdrop for my purple bag. I fill this small bag with some of my special romantic herb mixture and then, remembering how well that little bit of potion in my locket has been working for me, shake it in as well. Then I go to my drawer for the tiny picture of Mom so that I can put it back in the locket, but I can’t find it anywhere. I look and look, but it seems to be lost, and this troubles me.

“Heather,” calls my dad’s voice from downstairs. “Someone here for you.”

I quickly put on some lip gloss, grab my jacket, and head downstairs. Pushing thoughts of the lost photo from my mind, I promise myself to search for it later. It couldn’t have gone far. When I get downstairs, I’m slightly surprised to see that it’s not only Hudson, but Porter and Liz as well. For some reason I thought it was just going to be Hudson and me tonight. But I smile at the three of them, acting as if this isn’t unexpected.

“So what are we doing tonight?” I ask as I get into the backseat next to Hudson. It turns out that Porter is the driver tonight. “I know we talked about movies . . .”

Hudson chuckles. “Well, believe it or not, those two want to go bowling.”

“Bowling?” I poke Liz in the shoulder. “Seriously?”

She turns around and grins. “Yep. Porter was telling me how he and Hudson used to go bowling every Saturday night when they were in middle school, and I thought it sounded kinda crazy and fun. I mean, do you realize that I’ve never been bowling in my entire life?”

“You’ve
never
been bowling?” I say.

“Nope. My parents think it’s crass.”

“Smart parents.”

“Come on, Heather,” urges Liz. “It’ll be hilarious.”

“Okay,” I agree, “but I’ll warn you, the last time I went bowling I was pretty pathetic.”

“We’ll help you,” says Porter. “It’s really not too complicated.”

Hudson laughs. “Yeah, that’s for sure.”

So it is that we end up at Ebb Tide Alley, eating greasy pizza, wearing smelly shoes, and rolling heavy balls down a shiny floor.

“I wish I’d known what we were doing tonight,” I say to Hudson after my slow-moving ball barely manages to knock down two pins, leaving five standing at the end of my turn. I push up my long sleeves and attempt to roll down my turtle neck, waving my hand in front of my face like a fan. “I would’ve worn a T-shirt.”

He nods. “Yeah, you look a little hot.”

I grin at him. “Gee, thanks. Just a
little
hot?”

He laughs as he picks up his ball. “No, you do look hot, but you look a little warm, too.” Then he points to the beaded bag around my neck. “What’s that thing anyway?”

I sort of shrug. “Just a necklace.”

He gets ready to take his shot now, squaring himself up on the line and holding his ball out in front of him, just like he’s told me to do about ten times.

“I think that bag has to do with magic,” says Liz in a slightly teasing tone. “Did you guys know that Heather is learning about witchcraft?”

Hudson turns around and peers at me. “Seriously?”

I sort of laugh. “Hey, I’m just trying to tune myself into the universe. No biggie.”

“Go on, Hudson,” says Porter, “take your shot. Maybe Heather’s magic will help you, ’cause right now, Liz and I are beating the socks off you two.”

But Hudson’s shot turns out to be a gutter ball. The first one he’s had all night. “Looks like your magic isn’t working for me,” he says as he comes back to wait for his second ball.

I just smile at him. Maybe it’s working better than he realizes. His second ball is only slightly better. It seems we’re falling even further behind.

“Okay, Heather,” says Hudson. “It’s up to you now. Let’s see if your magic really works or not.”

So I decide to spiritually center myself as I stand on the line. I actually close my eyes and take a deep breath and focus. Then, imagining myself in perfect balance and the ball rolling straight down the center, I move forward and let it go. I stand there in amazement, watching as the ball does exactly as I’d envisioned, just like magic.

“A strike!” cries Liz, coming over to high-five me. “Maybe I should give your magic necklace a try too.” Then she reaches for my bag and to my surprise gives it a little squeeze. Okay, I’m not an expert at this, but somehow I know that wasn’t a good thing. Of course, I don’t show that I’m irked by this, but when I take my second ball, after the pins are reset, I only manage to knock down one pin.

“Uh-oh,” says Porter. “Looks like there’s not enough magic to save you guys tonight.”

And so he and Liz win our second line. Everyone except me thinks we need to play a third line. But I keep my thoughts to myself and try to be a good sport.

“Let’s break up the winning team,” Liz says to Porter. “This time I’ll partner with Hudson, and you can be with Heather.” And just
like that we switch. Okay, I realize this isn’t really a big deal, but it does bug me. Consequently, my bowling gets worse. And I must be rubbing off on Porter, because his does too. Meanwhile, Liz and Hudson are on fire.

“What’s up with you guys?” asks Porter.

“I think Liz is good luck,” says Hudson after his third strike.

“Guess I should’ve partnered with you,” I say to her.

She laughs. “Who knew I’d end up being a bowler? But I love this!”

It seems to take forever, but finally we are done and I quickly take off my shoes, return them to the rental place, and head off to use the restroom. I take a moment to stand in the stall and center myself, repeating a relaxation chant in my head three times. Then I grasp the beaded bag and do the passion poem five times. Then I hurry out, wash my hands, and emerge from the restroom just in time to see Hudson giving Liz a hug. Okay, maybe it’s a victory hug, but I can’t help but think it’s something more.

“Hey, you,” says Liz. “We thought maybe you were a sore loser and had walked home without us.”

“Yeah, right,” I say as Hudson hands me my coat. “It’d be a long walk.”

“Wasn’t that fun?” says Liz as we go out to the car.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t think I’ll ever be much of a bowler.”

“We’ll have to work on her, guys,” says Liz, “cause I think I’m really into this bowling thing. I can even see me joining a league someday. I’ll get my own ball, maybe in pale pink, and one of those cheesy shirts with my name on my chest pocket.” She laughs. “My mom is going to freak.”

“Ballerina turns bowler,” says Hudson as Porter pulls out of the
parking lot. “You might even make the local news.”

The three of them laugh and joke about bowling and small towns and Saturday nights, and I know I’m being quiet, but it feels like something is wrong. Like something just broke and I’m not quite sure how to fix it. I just want to go home. Maybe I can fix it there.

I’m not surprised that Porter drops me off first. Hudson walks me to the door and asks if I’m okay. “You got kinda quiet just now.”

“Yeah,” I tell him with a forced smile. “I think all that bowling wore me out.”

He laughs. Then I lean forward just slightly, expecting him to kiss me. It’s how he says good-bye to me at school and after our last date. But tonight he surprises me by taking my hand. “Thanks, Heather. Tonight was fun.” And that’s it. Just like that, he turns and walks away. It’s all I can do not to run after him. I want to apologize and say, “Sorry I was such a wet blanket tonight. I know I can learn to bowl better . . . and I can even learn to like it . . . and give me a chance . . . I’m just as much fun as Liz.” But, naturally, I don’t do this. I just walk into the house, go straight to my room, sit down on my bed, and ask myself,
What went wrong?

And then it occurs to me, I need more power, a stronger magic. Obviously, I’m just a beginner in the craft. I need to be more disciplined. I need to learn more about the elements, the moon, the stars, the planets. I need more control.

“W
ANT TO GO WHALE WATCHING WITH US
?”
MY DAD ASKS ME THE NEXT
morning. He and Augustine look like an Eddie Bauer ad in their matching blue nylon jackets and Chaco sandals. “I heard the big guys are heading down south right now.”

“No thanks,” I say as I pour a glass of orange juice. “You guys have fun though.”

It’s actually a relief to see my dad doing something just for the fun of it. Lately, he’s been such a workaholic that I’m almost getting worried. After they leave and the house is extra quiet, I sit by the kitchen window, gazing out at the gray cloudy day. It looks just about how I feel, dismal and bleak. I know this is the wrong attitude. I can’t give in to despair over the way things went last night. It’s not the end of anything. I can’t give up that easily. And yet I feel so hopeless. And lonely too. Sometimes I think Sunday is the loneliest day of the week.

There was a time when I went to church with Lucy on Sundays. Not every week, but sometimes. Enough so that people at her church seemed to think I was a Christian. But the truth is, I never felt like I really fit in. And last year I only went a handful of times. I can’t even imagine going there now — or what Pastor Hamilton would think of me if he knew what I was into. I shove those unhappy thoughts
away. I don’t need that kind of negative energy right now. I should try to be around like-minded people, people who are willing to go outside the box and think for themselves.

I consider driving over to The Crystal Dragon and asking Willow for something special to help me through this challenge. But I have a feeling she’d tell me that I need to dig deeper within myself. And I suppose she’d be right. I probably just need to read some more, study some more, and record my thoughts in my Book of Shadows. I guess I just need more discipline. And so I commit myself to a day of discipline and ritual and learning. The power is within my reach. I just need to focus and learn how to access it and how to use it better.

I go down to the basement, but it feels as if something is wrong with the aura down here. Sure, it’s okay for ballet, but I have a feeling that something about this room is not balanced quite right when it comes to magic. I think I need a place that’s higher, loftier, closer to the sky and the constellations. So I carry all my tools and things up to my room, but then I don’t think this is quite right either. Finally, I remember how much I enjoyed playing in the attic one particularly wet winter. Mom let me clear a place that was about ten feet square to use for my “special space,” and it was quiet and serene and peaceful up there.