“No, you don’t.” I shove past her and continue toward my parents’ car. I’m bursting with all the reasons we can’t be together. “You loved having a girlfriend who never said no. The second I stood up for what I needed, you abandoned me.”
Veronica grabs my arm and spins me back to face her. “That’s not true.”
“It is!” My voice reverberates through the woods, startling birds into flight. “I told you I wasn’t comfortable with those Caster Witches, but you didn’t care! You were so busy trying to impress them that you didn’t listen to me.”
“Hannah—”
“No. You don’t get to spin this. Not again.” My breath comes in short, painful gasps. A phantom ache spreads through my limbs. “You didn’t even help me when I was attacked by a Blood Witch, because you were too busy sucking up to people we were never going to see again.”
The memories threaten to pull me down like an undertow. Pain blossoming across my face. My blood on the other witch’s hands. Her smile as she took control of my body and forced me to my knees.
“Can I speak now? Or are you going to cut me off again?” When I cross my arms and say nothing, she continues. “I’ll admit, the thing with the Blood Witch was not my best moment—”
“She nearly killed me. Do you have any idea what it feels like, to have your body possessed by Blood Magic?”
“—but you can’t throw away our entire history because of one bad decision,” she finishes, like she wasn’t even listening to me. Which is half the problem right there.
“Fine, forget New York,” I say, even as I remember the feel of the witch’s hands closing around my throat. Veronica was so taken by the trio of Caster Witches we met in Manhattan that she refused to listen to me. She even abandoned me in Central Park when I begged her to stop talking to them. The Blood Witch attacked moments later, mistaking me for one of the Casters.
I shake the memories away and focus my anger on Veronica. “Our entire relationship was me doing whatever you wanted. You decided when we’d hang out and what we’d do. You always picked the restaurant. You even tried to decide how and when our relationship would end!”
Veronica falls back a step, confusion creasing her brow. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m not oblivious, V. I caught every one of your ‘long distance is so hard’ and ‘holding on to high school partners in college is almost impossible’ hints. I know you were planning to break up with me when you left for school.”
“I never said I wanted to break up with you.” Tears shimmer in Veronica’s eyes, but she doesn’t let them fall. “I’m not wrong. Long distance is hard, but I think we can make it. I want us to make it.”
“It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.” I step around her and head toward the cars. “It’s too late to go back to the way we were.”
“Why?” Veronica reaches for my wrist and holds firm. “Why can’t we go back?”
She’ll never understand. The realization washes all the fight out of me, leaving behind only heartache. I gently pull my wrist from her grip. “Because,” I say, my voice so soft it’s nearly swallowed up by the trees, “I’m standing here, telling you how much you hurt me, and you can’t hear it.” Tears fill my eyes. I’ve lost the strength to hide them. “You broke my heart, and you didn’t even notice. How can I . . .” My throat closes up, and I look away. “How could I ever trust you to put the pieces back together?”
Veronica is silent after that. I glance up to find her watching me, but she doesn’t speak.
I don’t expect her to. There’s nothing left to say. I turn again to leave.
“This conversation isn’t over.”
My response sticks in my throat. I can’t even look at her. “Yes. It is.”
6
THE CONFRONTATION WITH VERONICA leaves my nerves jagged and raw. I ignore my parents’ attempts to talk about it, choosing instead to spend the rest of the weekend locked in my room, blasting what to others may seems like a bizarre array of music. To me, it’s like comfort food, warm and soothing. My playlist shuffles from screaming heavy metal to heartbroken show tunes to forlorn pop ballads. I listen to my favorite breakup song over and over, sobbing until I can’t breathe. Until Mom begs me to play something else. Anything else.
That’s when I switch to headphones and throw my pain on a canvas, not caring how much paint splatters all over my clothes.
My hands are still covered in vibrant colors on Monday, and it takes forever to scrub my skin clean as I get ready for work. At some point last night, my insides shifted and rearranged, replacing pulsing pain with boiling rage. I cannot believe Veronica cost me an entire month of training and got me banned from this week’s lesson. She knows how much I’ve been dying to learn the next phase of magic. I bet she doesn’t even care.
The smell of coffee lures me into the kitchen, but I grab an energy drink from the fridge instead. Coffee may smell great, but it tastes like dirt. When I plop into my chair at the dining room table, Mom shoves a plate of scrambled eggs and buttered toast in front of me.
“Long shift today?” Dad asks as he sweeps into the dining room with his coffee thermos. He’s dressed for court, trading in his usual goofy ties for a slate-gray one. He’s had a full caseload since his boss, the district attorney, went on maternity leave, spending more time than usual in court.
“Uh-huh.” I wonder if Dad’s cop buddies have any theories for him about the weekend’s bonfire. My phone alert goes off, a five-minute warning before I need to be out the door. I take another bite before swallowing the first.
Dad kisses Mom goodbye. “Have a good day,” he calls as he heads for the door.
And then it’s just Mom and me. Goody.
She tries for small talk, asking about my art and my plans for the week, but I lob one-word answers in response.
“I really wish you’d stop with the sulking.” Mom sips her coffee, her eyebrows raised as she waits for my answer.
“I’m not sulking. I’m eating.” My phone beeps again. If I don’t leave in two minutes, I’ll be late. “Sorry, Mom. I have to go.” I shove the toast in my mouth and deposit the plate of half-eaten eggs on the kitchen counter. I almost make it to the door before Mom calls out to me.
“Hannah. Wait.”
I wait. But not patiently. “Mom, I’m going to be late.”
“I just . . . I know this was a hard weekend for you.” Mom’s face softens for the first time since my grandmother’s punishment. “Lady Ariana’s lessons may seem harsh, but everything she does is for the good of the coven. She loves you.”