The Witch Is Back (15 page)

“Oh, I am,” I said, hearing the disappointment in my new friend's voice. “Don't get me wrong, I fully think that all those accused back then were dealt a sucky hand. They didn't deserve anything that happened to them. It's just sort of . . . depressing, you know?”

“Even more reason to keep the memories of those who were mistreated alive,” she answered.

“You're right,” I said. “At the very least, it'll be easier than reporting on a topic that's brand new to me. I already know so much about the trials that it shouldn't take me too long to fill in Sarah's blanks.”

“I bet there's more to her history than you know,” Colette said, solemnly. “Remember, there are always two sides to every story.”

I nodded in agreement, looking to change the subject. “So, who'd you get then?” I asked.

Colette glanced down at her paper before folding it back up and placing it in her own pocket. “I think I'm going to keep mine a secret for now. It'll be more exciting for you to learn about them when I do my presentation.”

I smiled at her enthusiasm. I'd never met anyone so excited about doing research before. I thought about what her aunt had said and agreed. Colette was definitely unique, and I think that's why I liked her so much. She kept us wondering what she'd say or do next. She was a wild card, and one I was happy to have on my side.

Dinner came and went and before I knew it, we were all headed to our rooms. Asher had shown up to eat this time, but I couldn't get myself to ask him about where he'd been at lunch. Namely, whether he'd been with Brooklyn, reminiscing about old times. It took everything in me to keep from peppering him with questions. Because as much as I wanted to know if they'd been together, there was a part of me that wanted to live in denial. Besides, if I brought up Brooklyn now, I'd most likely have to admit that I'd already failed in trying to bury the hatchet with her.

Besides, what was going on between Brooklyn and me now actually had little to do with Asher anymore. It was between her and me.

Other than that, Asher had seemed like his usual self. Cracking jokes and holding my hand under the table. The thing that
was
different was the fact that he had guy friends now. In just a few days, Dane and Hudson had become regulars at our table, a fact that made Sascha especially happy. She'd developed this intense crush on Dane and wouldn't stop asking him questions about Australia. Poor Dane had no idea what was going on, but he tried to answer all of them politely until, finally, he decided he could save himself the interrogation if he just asked Sascha questions about herself. This was both good and bad, because it meant that he could sit there and actually eat his meal, but once you got Sascha talking—and about her favorite topic: herself—it was hard to shut her up.

By the time we'd finished eating, Asher had decided to save Dane from Hurricane Sascha by insisting that they get started on their research projects.

“You're going already?” I asked, disappointed as we all got up to bus our trays.

“I think Dane's had enough,” Asher said with a chuckle and looked over at his roommate, who was nodding like a bobblehead doll at something Sascha was saying. “Besides, we sort of have a guys' night planned. Is that okay?”

He asked the question, but I could tell it was more of a statement. One that Asher was clearly hoping I wouldn't push. But I couldn't help it. Nothing about this day had gone as expected and I could use some boyfriend time.

“It's just that, I barely got to see you all day,” I said, slipping my hand into his and leaning my head against his shoulder as we followed the others outside and walked back toward the dorms. “And you said we'd spend time together this summer.”

“And we will. Promise,” Asher said. “But I also don't want to be rude to my new roommates. We might as well make friends while we're here, right? Colette seems pretty cool. Why don't you have a girls' night and get to know each other better? Then you and I can reconvene tomorrow. You know what they say: absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

As he said this, he pulled me into the shadows and kissed me hard. My lips automatically parted and we went from zero to sixty in about point five seconds. He tasted like cherry cola. I pushed my body up against his and his hands found the bare skin of my stomach under my shirt. When he teased the area lightly with his fingertips, I began to get lightheaded and had to pull away before I passed out or things went too far.

“Get a room!” someone called out as they walked by.

“Maybe we should,” I said, smiling up at him.

“Tempting,” Asher said, his breathing still labored. He looked like he was wavering now.

“Sher!” Hudson yelled from a place about ten feet ahead of us. “You coming?”

Asher looked in his new friend's direction and then back down at me, before touching his forehead to mine. “Will you still love me tomorrow?”

It was a silly question, because of course I'd still love him. I might be more annoyed at him, but I'd still love him. But there was an excitement in his eyes I hadn't seen before. One that was totally different than the way he looked at me. And rightfully so.

Asher was in full-on bromance mode.

And that made me change my mind just a little.

Because Asher seemed happy. He was actually making friends, which was new for him. He'd always been sort of a loner. He hadn't really bonded with the other kids at his school; actually, a lot of witches didn't feel a connection with nonwitching folks. That only left other twitches, and there hadn't been many around for him to bond with.

But now, for the first time, he had a bunch of guys he seemed to enjoy being around. And I wanted him to have that. I'd always had girlfriends I could confide in. I depended on my nonwitchy friends for my public life at school, hanging out with them at parties, cheering with them at games and doing girly stuff like throwing slumber parties and shopping together. I even had the girls in the Cleri to satisfy the magical side of me. We talked magic and casted together. We were bonded by the coven.

It must be lonely for Asher not to have any of that.

So, despite the fact that I wished we were spending more time together, I understood how important it was for him to cultivate relationships with his roommates. And I wasn't too psyched about the clingy girl I was becoming. I'd never needed a guy around to have a good time before, so why would I need to now?

Maybe Asher was right: if I let him have his guy time, it would make our couple time even more special.

“Go hang out with your friends,” I said finally, swatting him on the butt like I was one of his buddies.

“You sure?” he asked, scanning my face to see if this was a trick.

“I'm sure. I'll just head back with Colette and your sister,” I said reassuringly. “We can stay up and talk about boys or something.”

“Oh, man. That sounds like trouble,” Asher said, although he seemed relieved.

When we reached the lobby, we went our separate ways. I could hear the guys hooting and joking around until I closed the door behind us.

“I'm going to take a shower,” I announced, gathering up my things.

Despite what I'd said to Asher, I had no intention of staying up late with the girls. It had been a long day—our first full one at Brighton—and the combination of hours spent casting and the heat of Colorado had left me aching to crawl into bed early.

But no matter how tired I was, I never went to sleep without going through my nightly beauty routine. So, I dragged myself to the community bathroom at the end of the hallway and stepped into one of the shower stalls, cranking up the heat on the water until the steam made it difficult to see my own hand in front of my face. I let my mind go blank as I lathered up, spending a particularly long time conditioning my locks, which had already begun to dry out under the hot sun.

I closed my eyes after a while and allowed the methodical beating of the water to lull me into a sort of a meditative trance as it worked out the knots in my muscles. I could feel the stress begin to wash away, and a feeling of calmness enveloped me.

Maybe an evening to myself was just what I needed after all.

Part of me wanted to stay in the shower indefinitely. Okay, so not
indefinitely
, but there was a kind of freedom here. No bad guys to fight. No exes to worry about. Just silence. Unfortunately, my fingers were beginning to prune and I worried about falling asleep right there on the floor of the stall. And let's be honest, there was a reason people wore shower shoes: bathroom tiles were a hotbed for disgusting diseases that are
so
not sexy.

I shuddered at the thought and then turned the knob to cut off the flow of water. Only, instead of trickling to a stop, the pressure grew, until the spray began to feel more like a fire hose than a soothing rainforest.

That's odd.

I tried again, this time turning it in the opposite direction, but the flow refused to let up even a little bit. The water was coming out too fast and hard now for it to drain properly, and it started to pool at my feet, covering up my toes within seconds.

“What's wrong with this thing?” I muttered as I tried again to turn the water off to no avail. Finally, with a sigh, I held my hands over the faucet and said, “Igmum rushee!”

The spell was meant to stop the flow of water, but it just kept spewing out, as if I'd never said it in the first place.

That is
not
a good sign.

The knob must have been broken.

So much for a drama-free evening
.

No longer relaxed, I wondered if one of the counselors would be able to cut off the water supply at the source before it flooded the whole bathroom. Pushing on the glass door, I thought about how long it might be before I could escape to my bed. But instead of the door swinging open easily, it didn't budge. I placed my shoulder against the glass, and gave it another hard shove, hoping it was just stuck.

Nothing.

Okay,
now
I was worried. Something wasn't right here. The water had already risen up past my ankles and it wasn't stopping. I moved into the spot directly underneath the showerhead to get out of the harsh spray, and then glanced up to see how big the space was above the door. If worse came to worse, I could always climb up and over.

Except, there was none.

Part of me was relieved by this fact, because it would've been humiliating to be caught in a compromising position by my fellow campers. Especially if one of those people was Brooklyn.

Brooklyn.

Maybe
she
did this. Set the whole thing up, so I'd look stupid for getting stuck inside a shower stall.

And I
was
stuck. In fact, I hadn't noticed when I'd first stepped inside, but the shower was a little like a glass box.

There was no space open to the outside, which meant I was basically trapped.

And the water was still rising.

I went to bang on the door, hoping to attract the attention of someone still in the bathroom, but as I went to touch the glass, something began to appear through the haze of the steam. Written clearly on the glass of the shower door was a message:

Get out.

Trust me, I want to.

I blinked the water out of my eyes to make certain that what I was seeing was really there. When it didn't disappear, I knew I wasn't seeing things.

Leaning forward, I took a closer look. Strands of condensation ran down the glass, making it clear that the words were written from the inside of the shower and not the outside.

The question was, how?

“Is somebody out there?!” I yelled.

There was no response.

The water was already up to my hips and I started to panic.

Think, think, think.
I looked around frantically like I was suddenly going to find something that would help break me out of the mess I was in. But all I'd brought in with me was a razor, a loofah, and some shampoo and conditioner. Nobody had told me I'd need heavier artillery to survive my nightly shower.

Luckily, I was always prepared with my own personal emergency witch kit. Me.

My solution was a bit destructive, I admit, but by now I was convinced I had no other choice. I had to get out of this water coffin before I drowned in it. Flattening myself against the shower wall, I closed my eyes and braced myself for what I was about to do.

“Exbiliby totalitum!”

I felt the exploding spell as it left my body and waited for the sound of shattering glass. My heart sank when it never came.

My mind raced. There was no reason those spells shouldn't have worked. Even in the middle of a freak-out,
something
should have happened. A crack in the glass, a poof of smoke from the residual magic. It was as if my powers were useless. Only, I'd felt it. The magic had been cast, something had just prevented it from working.

Was this a magic shortage? I'd heard of them happening to new witches or ones going through puberty, but I'd never experienced it myself. And I'd certainly never shot blanks before. It was embarrassing, but more than that, it made me feel something even worse.

Helpless.

Without magic, what did I have? I looked down at my hands, searching for an answer, and reluctantly found it.

I began to beat my fists on the door again, screaming for somebody, anybody, to help me. I knew at some point someone would come in. This was a given. There were thirty girls at camp and only one bathroom. You didn't have to be a genius to do the math. I just hoped it wasn't too late when they finally did.

The water was lapping at my shoulders, making it more and more difficult to move.

“Please! Somebody help me!” I yelled, frantically.

“Hello?” a voice finally called out. It was hard to hear at first, over the sound of water hitting water. But then it got closer and I could see the shadow of a body on the other side of the glass.