“I know. And I am trying. I will figure this out,” I promised.
I ended our call feeling like my heart was as heavy as a brick. It was so easy down here in Florida to simply not think too seriously about what was happening back in Willow. All I really wanted to think about was Trey being released from Northern. If I were to insert myself back into the workings of this curse, I’d be risking any kind of future with him. Or any kind of future at all in which my parents didn’t disown me.
After finishing my homework, I changed into my pajamas, and when I stepped into the hallway to brush my teeth in the bathroom, I could hear Dad and Rhonda talking downstairs in hushed voices. Whatever they were discussing, it sounded serious, and my stomach clenched at the likelihood that it had something to do with me.
* * *
The next morning I kept my chat with Henry brief because I didn’t want to skimp on the candle protection spell.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” he teased.
Perhaps it was his tone, or maybe just because I was still on high alert after my conversation with Mischa, but it occurred to me that because Henry was someone whom both Mischa and I cared about, I may have been putting him in danger by not informing him about Mischa’s predicament. He’d been so happy back in January when we believed we’d broken the curse that I feared he might get mad at me if I admitted we hadn’t been so successful, after all. And I couldn’t stand the thought of Henry being mad at me. Without intending to fill him in on all the details, I said in the calmest voice I could muster, “There are some things going on in Willow that make me and Mischa suspect we’re not completely out of the woods with this Violet thing.”
“What? Are you kidding?”
“Didn’t want to freak you out,” I told him. Trying to make it sound like not a big deal, I told him about the candles Kirsten had instructed me to burn every morning.
I must have failed in making the entire situation seem like nothing but a precaution, because Henry’s response was an explosion of fury. “How long have you known that we didn’t break the curse? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I’m going to fly home tomorrow and wring that little witch’s neck!”
It took me a few minutes to calm him down, and I had to swear up and down that I was sure Violet didn’t have any power over the situation anymore. Perhaps it was a little bit of a lie to tell him that I was still figuring out what had happened, but I was honest enough to tell him that I thought there was the tiniest possibility that the curse had shifted to Mischa. I was still nervous he was going to hop on a flight to Wisconsin, but I had to get off the phone so that I could light my candles.
I set up my candles, poured my salt, lit the wicks, and uttered my chant with total sincerity, sensing that it had never been more important to complete the spell with attention to detail. Once at school, I endured my classes in a distracted daze. I kept reminding myself that technically nothing had changed since the day before. Mischa and I were in the same situation we had been in since January, only perhaps with slightly higher stakes because three new moons had passed. There was no reason for me to feel like I was walking along the edge of a cliff. Everything was still under control. But by the time the bell rang to signal the end of chemistry, my last class of the day, I had already thrown my bag of books over my shoulder and rocketed out of my seat, eager to put all of my focus back into getting the curse off of Mischa. Even though it made me feel like a complete nut, I’d sprinkled paper packets of salt and pepper from the cafeteria into my Vans in the bathroom after lunch.
Instead of walking directly home, I detoured to the natural foods store and bought a dozen eggs, all of the essential oils, and the fennel that Mrs. Robinson had specified. The haul was expensive, and I blew half of my first weekly paycheck from my job, but I didn’t mind. My conversation with Mischa had made me anxious enough to consider hopping on the bus to pay Mrs. Robinson a friendly visit even though I wasn’t on the work schedule. However, Tuesday nights were when I was scheduled to speak with Trey. If there was any part of my weekly routine that I would never jeopardize, it was that phone call.
When I got home, I was surprised to find the house empty. It was rare that I arrived back at the condo earlier than Dad, and even though I never minded being home alone in Wisconsin, in Florida I felt kind of like a trespasser on someone else’s property. To busy myself and do something unexpectedly nice, I started dinner. I’d just set a tray of chicken in the oven to bake when I heard the growl of the automatic garage door opening.
“Hey there,” Dad greeted me as he entered the kitchen. He was still wearing his USF baseball cap in the house, a habit that drove Rhonda nuts. “What’s all this?”
“Just trying to be helpful,” I said. “I wanted to fix a salad, but the rest of the kale in the fridge was kind of gross.”
Dad leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “Listen, tiger. We need to have a little talk.” For a second, I thought he was going to tell me what was going on between him and Rhonda, and I prayed once again that whatever it was, it hadn’t been inspired by anything I’d done. But then I heard the garage door lifting again, which meant that Rhonda was home.
“Sure, Dad.”
Perhaps because Rhonda was about to enter the house from the garage at any second, he told me, “After dinner.”
Now I had a real reason to be paranoid. Rhonda gave me a weak smile as I set the table, and our conversation throughout dinner was shallow. Dad bored us with a description of politics going on in the surgery department at the school where he worked. By the time Rhonda excused herself and cleared her plate, I was certain that the barely perceptible hostility between them definitely must have had something to do with me. Rhonda had avoided making eye contact with me the entire time we’d been seated at the table.
Finally, while still picking at his Brussels sprouts, Dad told me, “You left a candle lit in your bedroom this morning when you left for school.”
It felt as if blood had frozen in my veins. Was it possible that I’d left my candles out? I was always careful about setting them back in the top drawer of my nightstand after I blew them out. My thoughts raced back to the state of mind I’d been in earlier that morning. I’d been much more focused than I usually was. I’d ended my call with Henry to chant the spell without distractions. I could specifically remember blowing out the candles and setting them back in the top drawer of my nightstand. There was no way I’d left the house with a candle burning.
“Are you sure? I didn’t have any candles lit last night,” I said, trying to act surprised.
Dad shifted his posture uncomfortably as if he really did not want to be having this conversation. “Rhonda found it. She said there was a weird setup of candles in a pentagram on your nightstand with a circle of salt around it?”
Iciness crept into my fingers and hands. This was a message, a warning. The spirits knew where I was. They wanted me to believe that they could hurt my father or his wife whenever they wanted.
“Dad.” There was no point in pretending like I didn’t know anything about the candles or the salt. Insinuating that Rhonda was a liar was not going to work in my favor. “That’s really freaky. Sometimes I light candles, but I would never arrange them in a pentagram. I thought I blew them out this morning before school. I’ll be more careful in the future.”