I raised my eyebrows incredulously.Ah, to be a young, optimistic witch.
“Do you know how much power that takes to sustain?” I asked. “I’m not blowing my magical load on fighting storms just so you can swim.”
The group chuckled, and Iris elbowed me. “Can you not sayblowing your loadto our campers, please?” she griped from the corner of her mouth.
I shot my sister a look. “They’re nineteen, not six.”
“What if we were in the canoes?” the main lamenter, Phoebe, suggested.
I fished in my cargo shorts pocket and pulled out a wad of tangled friendship bracelets. I selected the citrine one for patience and tossed it to her.
“Listen, Pheebs,” I said. “I love the initiative, but lightning can find canoes too, okay?” I stood and stretched. “How about I sneak into the mess hall and steal some of those white chocolate macadamia nut cookies that I know Nancy keeps hidden in the pantry, hmm?”
That perked them up. It didn’t matter that they weren’t children; sugar was still the best form of bribery.
I opened the art hut door and frowned at the deluge. “Wish me luck!” I called and barreled headfirst into the rainstorm, facing my odds of getting struck by lightning rather than enduring one more minute of my sister’s peppiness and the campers’ whining.
The kickball field was sodden, and my sneakers squelched through the grass and muck in my mad dash to the mess hall.
When I barreled through the door, I skidded to a halt and shook myself off like a dog on the entry mat. I’d made it only three steps toward the kitchen when a person in the corner snagged my attention.
Gwen was curled up in a bean bag chair by the Take a Book, Leave a Book shelf. She looked positively cozy with the rain tapping on the windowpane above her head and a knitted blanket spread across her legs. Her forehead was wrinkled in serious contemplation, and I wished I could freeze that moment and just watch her, but Gwen looked up at me, her mouth falling open. I realized that my mustard top was clinging to my frame like something out of a wet T-shirt contest. I quickly folded my arms across my chest, trying to hide my pointy nipples.
“Hey,” I said as she snapped the book shut. “I thought Flower Moon cabin was meant to be learning about the history of the occult.”
“We were,” she replied. “But they finished early after the counselor fell asleep face-first in an old tome. Everyone went back to the cabin to gossip about boys and stuff.”
I chuckled. “And you didn’t want to gossip about boys and stuff? I mean, didn’t you have a boyfriend before he became a toad?”
“I had ahumanboyfriend,” she amended. “Witches really don’t want to hear about that, and I don’t know the first thing about dating monsters.”
“You’ll figure it out, I’m sure.”
“I think I’d be more interested in dating other witches, if anything,” she said flippantly.
I noted the pointedly casual way in which she threw that statement out there.
Her eyes looked everywhere but me, and when I laughed, it finally pulled them to mine. She studied my expression as if watching to see how that statement would land.
I forced myself not to move too quickly as I offered her a hand and helped her out of the bean bag chair. What was it with the hand offering? When had I turned into such a hands-on helper? I knew the answer: I just wanted any excuse to touch her.
Goddess, I was such an idiot.
“That’s probably the best option,” I said as I bent and picked up her book. “An Abridged History of the Summer Camp for Man-Hating Witches.” I chuckled and looked at her. “I mean, can you blame us? A man, singular, is tolerable enough, but men together?” I scrunched my nose.
Gwen laughed. “Warranted.” She took the book back from me and returned it to the shelf. “I just wanted to understand why my mom had to leave. Are no human men welcome in Maple Hollow at all?”
“They aren’t banned, per se,” I hedged. “The ones who respect the town and, well, people in general can stay.”
“And the others?”
“They are . . . discouraged by the accountability that they face.”
“Discouraged?”
“It’s just, most of them don’t like being called out on their shit or having a taste of their own medicine, you know?” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Like, goddess help any human who walks into town calling himself an alpha male when he bumps into an actual wolfpack leader, or if a man wants a vampirewhom he gropes to give him ‘the benefit of the doubt’ instead of making his evening into a living nightmare.”
Gwen snorted. “NowthatI’d love to see.”
