“Sabine!” Dagmar shouted, practically barreling me over.
I released my magic, and Astrid plummeted to the floor. She put on a very good show of wailing like she’d nearly died, but she hadn’t fallen far enough to do any permanent damage.
Maybe she was a good actress after all.
“All right, outside! Now!” Dagmar barked, shoving me toward the door. “We will be having a disciplinary meeting abou?—”
“No, we won’t,” I spat back, finally finding my spine. I pointed a finger at Dagmar’s chest, and she swatted it away, baring her teeth at me. “I’m done, Dagmar. Why weren’t you stopping them? Why weren’t you defending her? That’s your job, and you just stood there and let them humiliate one of your campers. Are you tongue-tied because she’s the coven leader’s granddaughter? Where’s your spine?”
“Sab—”
“No,” I growled. “Enough of this bullshit. I’m out.”
The crowd gasped like I’d just pissed on my grandmother’s grave.
Dagmar’s face reddened, but she gently took my arm and moved me toward the door. “Outside,” she said more evenly.
It was a strange feeling knowing that you were raging and out of control but still not being able to stop yourself from it. I blustered out the door, kicking the jamb. I knew it made me look like a toddler, but I couldn’t help myself.
I looked back over my shoulder, finding Gwen’s eyes like they were magnetized to mine. Her gaze was brimming with emotion. I held her stare for one more second, wishing I could tell her all the things I’d left unsaid. But I was a coward. So I took off the friendship bracelet that bound us together and let it fall to the ground.
Without waiting for Dagmar to scold me or talk me into apologizing, I stormed straight to my cabin and packed my duffel bag. I had to leave. Not tomorrow. Not even in an hour.
Now.
I had to leave the campgrounds before word spread and I couldn’t escape the disappointment of my parents or the coven or the town.
It was now or never.
On the edge of the parking lot, I paused and looked up at the hand-painted sign that read, “Goodbye for now” with dozens of different-colored handprints dotting every visible inch. The pull of my last heartstrings in my chest tightened. This wasn’t how I thought this moment would go, but a grand exit was just as final as any other goodbye. And this way, I wouldn’t have to tell the entire coven that I was leaving. Gossip would do the painful work for me. And surely, Astrid would have told her mother and mine the second she’d fake-limped off the stage.
There was no going back.
I hiked my bag up on my shoulder, took a last look at the camp sign, and started walking toward the bus stop a few miles away.
Goodbye, Maple Hollow and magic and beautiful girls with red lips and midnight eyes.
I was done.
34
Gwen
The next morning, I was still reeling from Sabine storming out of the show last night after cutting Astrid and her cronies down to size. I’d tossed and turned all night with nerves and regret. When I finally had found sleep, I’d dreamed of Sabine. Her face, her body, and her running out the door and out of my life. By the time the sun had peeked through the cabin windows, the bags under my eyes had been as heavy as my duffel sitting at the foot of my bunk.
Though the raw feelings were gnawing, I knew I had to put on my bravest face and sharpest eyeliner wing. It was pickup day, but also the first time Faith and I would be stepping into our new lives.
After breakfast and one last tearful round of goodbyes, Faith and I were across the field, our duffel bags at our feet while we waited for her dad to come get us. He’d been thrilled to hear that Faith had been adopted into the local coven and thatshe would be moving in with me to continue our training. But the excitement I’d been feeling moments ago was replaced by frustration and annoyance.
I’d been counting down the days until I would be reunited with the outside world via my cell phone, but my worries about being forgotten were completely unfounded because there were thousands of messages across my social apps, along with hundreds of texts, missed calls, and a smattering of voicemails.
Scrolling, I saw a thread of missed messages from Brayden. Over two hundred texts over the last several weeks:
BRAYDEN
I’m still having nightmares about ponds and lily pads! How could you do that to me?
Later that day, he sent another:
