Page 51 of Hex You

TWENTY

There’d been too much death and sadness for life in Goodeville to ever be normal again. At least, that’s what it felt like to Hunter as she sat drumming her fingers against her study hall desk, watching students roam the halls as directionless as gnats. Some of her peers were grieving, truly grieving, their heart-twisting wails echoing off the metal lockers. But to most, Coach Livingston’s death was an excuse, a way to get out of class, find friends, and traipse around campus, or simply pile into a car and leave school completely.

Hunter rolled her mangled pen cap between her teeth as Heather and Tiffany walked by, hand in hand, headed toward the cafeteria where the other half of the sophomore class was at lunch. Tiffany dabbed her cheeks with a wad of tissues that bloomed from between her fingers like the petals of a dahlia. Hunter opened her mouth to call out but thought better of it. What would she say that she hadn’t already?

Her fingers fell to her pendant as her thoughts went to the to-do list burning a hole in the pocket of her ripped jeans.

help Kylie/tell the truth/undo the spell

She’d intended on completing the second task after school when she could grab Kylie and Jax on their way to their separate practices, perform the undoing spell, and send them on their way. In truth, cheerleading and football practice were supposed to separate the spell from the intense and honest talk with Kylie that she knew her friend deserved. But Hunter no longer had the luxury of waiting for the distraction of cheer practice. The spell had wound itself around Kylie’s true emotions, and Hunter wasn’t sure what that meant for her friend’s ability to sort through her pain and heal in this time of crisis.

Hunter ran her fingertips over the bumpy outline of the rectangular lighter she’d slid into her pocket along with the list.

“Mrs. Macadam!” she blurted, her hand shooting into the air. “I need to go to the, uh, counselor.”

Mrs. Macadam’s straw-blond curls bounced with a nod. “Take the pass,” she said without looking up from the fifth-editionTeacher’s Handbookshe used to hide the most recent Coldwater Creek catalog.

Hunter slipped the pen into her back pocket and scooped her studies into the folder behind the originalWANTspell, tucking it under her arm as she bolted to the door. She took the plastic cow figurine from its hook and charged into the hall. Years of wear had rubbed bare patches in the cow’s black spots, and the name MACADAM had been scrawled so many times in so many different colors that the side of the animal looked tie-dyed.

She smoothed her thumb over a bare spot and focused her intention.

Undo the spell. Undo the spell. Undo the spell.

The mantra echoed through Hunter’s thoughts as she opened the door to the cafeteria and surveyed the tables. Heads turned in her direction, glassy eyes boring into her.

“Witch.”

The word was spit like a curse. Loud and quiet all at once. Everywhere and nowhere. It had come from their lips, from their thoughts,from the air that swirled around her, alive with the roar of heartbeats that crashed against her eardrums like surging sea waters.

Hunter swallowed. Clutching her pendant for strength, she wound around the tables; crude slurs speared her back, the fall of Caesar had she only been popular. She tightened her grip on her pendant and pushed forward, through the humid air, and toward Kylie’s fiery burst of golden-red hair.

The roaring ceased altogether as Hunter reached the far corner of the cafeteria, where Kylie sat sandwiched between Heather and Tiffany, eyes pink and puffy from crying. Jax looked up, a crooked smile on his face as he sat across from the girls, scraping the last bits of pudding from his cup.

“Mag’s in the loo,” he said, licking a streak of chocolate from his spoon before setting it into the empty cup.

“Theloo.” An attempted grin quaked against Tiffany’s lips. “I haven’t met any Brits, but I don’t think they sound like that.”

Jax snorted, and Hunter couldn’t help but chuckle. Her sister would most definitely disagree.

Kylie shoved away from the table, sending Jax’s empty pudding cup tumbling onto its side, the metal spoon clattering against the table. “I have to go prepare for Coach Livingston’s vigil,” she bit out. “You coming, Jax?” She swept her hair from her shoulders, and a gust of grapefruit-scented air brushed Hunter’s cheeks.

She wished she could go back, choose a different spell, or choose no spell at all. Choose Jax and Kylie and pizza and Call of Duty. Choose peace and contentment and friendship instead of the ravenous need for power that had nearly devoured her life.

But it would all be okay. Hunter would make it okay. She would undo the spell, send the Nure-Onna back from where it came, heal the gates, and then be off. She’d ride the train to Chicago, a crisp and cleanThe Endseparating Goodeville from the rest of her life.

“Kylie, I need to talk to you,” Hunter said, gripping the plastic cow. “You, too, Jax.”

Kylie crossed her arms over her chest, wrinkling the cotton T-shirt Hunter knew she had in every color. “Whatever you have to say to us, you can say in front of our friends.”

Heather’s sallow cheeks reddened as she and Tiffany glanced from Hunter to Kylie and back again.

“I can’t. It has to be in private.” She picked at a bit of plastic curling up from the cow’s weathered snout. “It’s important. I need to—”

Jax stood and pushed in his chair, coming to Hunter’s rescue the same way he always did. “Let’s just go with her, Kylie.”

Kylie’s hazel eyes narrowed. “You always take her side.”

Jax dragged his hand down his cheek. “Look.” He let out a puff of air. “I’m going with H. You do what you want.”