How to Hang a Witch (18 page)

I
step into the chilly morning air and close the door behind me, happy to avoid an awkward conversation with Vivian about her driving me to school. This isn't the longest we've gone without speaking, but it's the worst fight we've ever had. It's not even a fight; it's something more. It's like my world is collapsing. For as long as I can remember, my dad and Vivian were my only people.

I can barely keep my eyes open as I jiggle the key in the lock. I got three hours of sleep, and my drowsiness is giving me a sick feeling. I turn around and almost collide with a male chest. I scream and look up to see Jaxon's worried face.

After all the effort to get out quietly, I'm screaming, “Don't do that!” I speed-walk toward school.

“Sorry, didn't mean to scare you.” Jaxon slips my bag off my shoulder, and I'm too tired to protest. “I thought I might walk with you.”

He's walked me home, but never
to
school before. “You're checking up on me?”

“Maybe.” He doesn't make eye contact. I've never seen Jaxon unsure of himself, and it doesn't feel natural.

He probably thinks I'm still a mess from yesterday. Which I am. But his treating me like I'm unstable only reminds me of how messed up things are and agitates me more. “I don't need you to.”

Jaxon keeps up with my pace. He pushes his hair out of his face. “Sam, I wanted to talk—”

“Sick people need to be checked on. I'm not sick.” Whatever he wants to talk about, I'm not sure I can handle it right now. I'm not in the best control of myself.

“You saw someone die in front of you. It's not like you're going to be normal, either.” His tone is serious, and I tense.

My whole life, people have told me I'm not normal and need help, and Jaxon's joining them makes me feel like I'm drowning. “I don't want to talk right now, Jaxon.”

“Why? Because I won't say that I believe you had a vision about John? Or that I think people are going to die?”

My cheeks redden, and I move faster. We're almost to school. “I don't want to defend myself to you. I already have to do that with everyone else.” I take my bag back from him, and he catches the strap before I can put it on my shoulder.

He searches my face. “Since when do I make you defend yourself? All I want is for you to talk to me. I want—”

“Let go.” I pull on my bag, and his lips tighten. He nods and releases his grip. I push through the door to the school, but he doesn't follow. The second I'm inside, I regret my words. I
do
want to talk to Jaxon. But how could I ever explain Elijah and the curse? He would never believe me.

In the hallway, the few early students greet me with ugly looks. Insults are spoken just loud enough for me to hear. I clench my jaw to keep from crying.

As I turn the corner, a nondescript door opens. I can just make out Elijah's angled face in the shadow. I head straight for it and slip inside. The door clicks shut. It's pitch black, and my shoe hits something hard. I grab on to Elijah. He flicks on the light switch.

It's a custodial closet with barely enough room for both of us. Our chests are only inches apart.

For a moment, we're both silent. Shadows fall on his cheekbones, and his lips part slightly. I have the sudden desire to be closer to them. I lean forward before I realize what I'm doing.

“How's my dad?” I ask, bringing my heels back down to the ground.

“Well cared for.”

Good. “Did you find anything, or do you just like broom closets?”

A small smile forms on his lips. “I found the story of Cotton at George Burroughs's hanging. You see, Cotton wrote another book about witchcraft called
Wonders of the Invisible World
after the Trials.”

I can barely understand
Memorable Providences.

“After which, a man named Robert Calef wrote a book called
More Wonders of the Invisible World.
This contained the story of which you had the vision.”

“Why was Calef's book title like Cotton's?” I ask, realizing I'm still holding on to Elijah's arm. I make no effort to let go. He feels so solid and alive.

“Robert Calef was making a commentary on the Witch Trials. He had a lot of unpleasant things to say about Cotton.”

“Wait, so Calef was Cotton's enemy? And he boosted his own fame by destroying Cotton's reputation?” I hear people bustling in the hallway, but I don't care. “Then it's possible that story about Cotton and Burroughs isn't true? Why would Cotton show me a story some dude told to make him look bad?”

“It is hard to say. Cotton wrote in his journal that he did not believe Calef's book would ever make it to print. And if it did, that none would take the book seriously. Tell me again what Cotton said about Burroughs after he recited the prayer.”

“Something about how wicked people can pretend to be good. So don't let them deceive you.” I readjust my feet in the small space between the buckets, and my body brushes against Elijah's for a moment. He puts his hand on my waist to steady me, and my stomach drops like I came over a hill too quickly.

He lets go. “Potentially, it is a metaphor. He may be pointing someone out, someone who seems good and is not.”

“Actually, if we take the whole Calef thing into consideration, it would be someone who spun a story about me
and
appears to be good but really sucks. Lizzie? I mean, she's been awful to me, but everyone else in school thinks she's awesome.”

“Or one of the other Descendants,” Elijah says.

The thought that Mary or Alice or Susannah could be my secret enemy makes my chest ache.
Not Susannah. Anyone but her.
“Did you get a chance to look for the cause of the rash?”

“No, but now is the perfect time—empty houses.”

The first bell rings, and I grab on to his shirt. I don't want to go out there. I want to stay in this lemon-scented closet with Elijah. He knows all the weird things that are happening to me, and he doesn't think I'm crazy; he thinks I'm special. Heat spreads through my body like flame with dry wood.

He lifts his hands up and holds my face. His fingers are gentle, and he brushes my hair back. “I'm right here with you. And I will be for as long as you need me. You are not alone.”

The comfort in his words wraps around me like a hug. He pulls my face toward him and kisses my forehead. Before I say a word, he blinks out. I'm left gripping the air where Elijah's shirt used to be and feeling the weight of his absence. I flick off the light and exit into the sea of people.

I rush to my homeroom, and when I open the door the hostility is palpable. The Descendants' seats are empty. I sit down in my usual place. Behind me, hushed voices discuss John's death. The bell rings.

Mrs. Hoxley doesn't need to quiet everyone. The room goes silent by itself. “There will be a special assembly this afternoon, an opportunity to discuss the tragedy that occurred yesterday. If anyone feels they need to discuss the event individually, please ask for a pass to the counselor's office.”

I put my forehead in my hands. My tiredness and anxiety mix as my unbrushed hair falls around my face. I'm sure by now Alice and Mary know about my blunder at Susannah's house. I had no idea they didn't see the vision of John when I did. My telling it to them after what happened to John does look suspicious. Alice already suspects me as the cause of all this. If only I can explain. There's no guarantee how much time we have before Susannah…I can't even think about that. I won't let the same thing happen to her.

The bell rings. I open my eyes, and my head feels heavy. On my way out, a guy bumps into me. I stumble, but he doesn't turn around.
Great, a day of this type of thing.
I wouldn't be surprised if they lynch me in that assembly. Wait, what if they do? My stomach rumbles with nerves and lack of food.

I make my way into history class and catch Jaxon watching me. I feel terrible, but I don't know what to say. Lizzie's not in her seat, either. Are all the Descendants together? Would Susannah have told Lizzie about my visit to her house? If so, this is all going to get a lot worse.

The bell rings.

“I'm not sure there's a good way to begin today,” says Mr. Wardwell, and he proceeds with his lesson. I stare out the window, not listening.

What Elijah told me this morning about an enemy gnaws at me. It was definitely a warning. Cotton was furious when he said I was focusing on the wrong things.

Elijah blinks in, and I jump. Jaxon notices.

“I found something you will want to see,” Elijah says.

I raise my hand, but Mr. Wardwell doesn't call on me. I can see the bathroom pass is already gone from his desk. He continues for a few more seconds while my hand is in the air.

“Yes, Sam.” Mr. Wardwell sounds annoyed.

Am I imagining it, or is he being a real jerk? Does he think I had something to do with John's death, too? Maybe Jaxon was wrong; maybe Wardwell is a descendant. “May I have a pass for the counselor's office?” I really don't want to see Mrs. Lippy, but he can't say no.

“Just go.” He waves his hand toward the door.

I grab my bag. As I pass one of the girls in the front row, she says, “Don't come back.”

I rub my face as I enter the hallway. “What did you find?”

Elijah hands me a tiny piece of paper. I carefully unroll it. There are symbols written in black ink, smeared in places from some kind of liquid. “What is this?”

“That is parchment paper, and those symbols are a spell.”

I open my mouth to argue the legitimacy of this and remember the promise I made to my dad last night that I wasn't gonna resist believing in this stuff. “Where was it?”

“Artfully concealed in a ruffle of the dress Susannah wore to the party.”

“So this was most likely the cause of the rash since she got it the worst, right?” I always assumed the rash somehow manifested by itself, like a sign of the apocalypse or something. “This doesn't explain why I didn't get the rash when everyone else did, though.”

“You see spirits, and have visions. You are many things, but typical is not one of them.”

Maybe this is what Cotton meant by his warning. “If Lizzie was trying to set me up, my not getting the rash would be the perfect way to do that.”
Or Alice.
Oh man, I so hope it's not her.

One of the classroom doors near me opens and we start walking toward Mrs. Lippy's office.

I should show this to the Descendants. Susannah would get that someone planted it and trace it back to Lizzie. Who else knows witchcraft besides these girls? “Oh no! Susannah came to my house before the party. That makes me a prime suspect.”

“I considered that.”

“Is there any way to prove who wrote this?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

I stare at the little paper that possibly caused all this trouble. “Can I keep this?”

“Certainly,” Elijah says as we arrive in front of the counselor's office.

My bad luck rears its head, and Mrs. Lippy steps out of the door. “I thought I heard a voice in the hallway. You're in luck, Sam. I'm currently free.”

I take one last look at Elijah before he blinks out, and step inside her office. I tuck the spell into my wallet and notice the business card Captain Bradbury gave me when he questioned me.

“I'm glad you came down here. It was the right choice.”

I was hoping this place would be packed and I would spend the rest of the period in the waiting room. I sit down at her desk.

“I imagine you're here about the tragic event.”

I nod. “I'm not sure what to think.”

“Were you close to John?”

“He was in my class.”

“How did you feel when you saw him? You found him, correct?” If she knows this, everyone in the school knows I was the only one with him when he died.

I sigh. “Honestly? Numb. I couldn't move.”

“And when the numbness left?”

I pause. “Guilt.”

She releases her breath as though she's relieved we're getting somewhere.

“I felt like I should have been able to stop it.” I hated John, but I didn't want him to die.

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty, Sam. It might help if we talk about the events leading up to this incident. See if we can find the source of the problem.” She pulls out a paper full of notes. “Have you been in any physical altercations recently?”

“As in physical fights? No.”

“Have you touched anyone and then realized they were sick shortly after?”

So much for my moment of honesty. “No.”

“Have you purposefully sabotaged anyone's grade during a quiz?”

“I'm not sure I understand.” So this is the list of complaints Mrs. Lippy was trying to go over with me yesterday.

“Have you ever wished anyone ill will with your eyes?”

That has to be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. “So people are coming in here making these crazy complaints about me? Or, their parents are?” Elijah was right. The whole school wants to vilify me. They might not openly attack me, but the result is the same.

“It may be that some of these are more of a stretch than others,” Mrs. Lippy concedes. “But this many people can't all be wrong. I believe if we break this pattern you seem to have with the other students, we'll get somewhere.”

Break this pattern? But it's not my…Wait a second. Maybe I
can
break the pattern I have with them. Everything about this curse seems to be a pattern. If I can break one link in the chain, it might help. Elijah did compare my social situation here to the Witch Trials.

“Sam?”

“Sorry, Mrs. Lippy. I actually think you helped me figure something out.”

Mrs. Lippy beams. “All part of my job.”