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Nobody would tell me a thing. Dani and I had tried to guess after Jessica. And it turned out we pretty much had it figured out, but nobody would confirm or deny or give us any details. And I had no idea what any of it meant.
After Dani came back, I’d find out the four of them were doing things without me. I didn’t know what those things were, but I knew I wasn’t invited, and got caught spying. I never figured much out.
Our family has always been strange. All five of us were born on the eighteenth of our birth month, so our special enlightenment birthday, as Great Aunt Mimi called it, included the special trip with Aunt Lyrica along with admittance into what I’d first dubbed The Secret Young Club, then when I was the only one not in it, I started calling it The Erica Young Haters Club. And I was very vocal about it.
They encouraged me to be patient, but as the youngest of five, I was tired of always hearing those words. Be patient. Wait. Wait until I was older. Until I was taller. Until, until, until. It drove me half-mad sometimes.
But now I was in the club. No more waiting.
***
Aunt Lyrica’s camper van made me think of the gypsies in their caravans with colorful decorations, stocked to the brim with stuff. But now I was looking at it with fresh eyes and could see she traveled with a sort of apothecary. Plants, crystals, jars. The van had many nooks and crannies filled with not just stuff, filled with things she might need.
It didn’t have running water, but it had a pop-top tent and fold out bed on top. The back had a bench large enough to sleep on. Running from behind the driver’s seat to the bench was a long counter with shelves underneath. I opened doors and hatches in the past and got reprimanded for snooping.
Now, I could snoop if I wanted to. She was gifting me this van.
“You’re the youngest Young, the last to be admitted into the coven from your generation, and my job is now nearly done.” Aunt Lyrica took a dramatic bow. “I’m going to settle in and get ready for retirement. You’ll be trained by me and by Mimi.”
“Trained?” That was exciting. “But retire? You? As if,” I scoffed.
“I’m ready,” she said.
I frowned. Aunt Lyrica was looking tired and older all of a sudden.
“Almost done. We’ll get you trained first.” She smiled and the years melted away. “Let’s go.”
“Where to?” I asked. “To Drowsy Hollow?”
“To Drowsy Hollow,” she confirmed, gesturing toward the road with a wave of her bejeweled hand.
Aunt Lyrica had stayed in the town where we were born. She lived in the apartment above the shop. I knew it was four hours away, but hadn’t been there since we moved away when I was little. It was a place that I often thought about, sketching what I remembered of the main street. I remember it being small, quaint, and being surrounded by what felt like an enchanted forest. I wondered if it would feel the same.
We went years without seeing any members of Dad’s family until my parents’ untimely death, three months before Vivi turned eighteen.
Vivi and Ronnie used to talk about hearing them fight about home and Dad’s family who he wanted to visit. After our parents perished in that awful freak accident, we moved in with Great Aunt Mimi.
When Vivi turned eighteen and took her trip, the first change I noted in her was her refusal to discuss Drowsy Hollow with us with anything other than vagueness.
And then Ronnie’s tune also changed eleven months later after her trip. Subjects got changed and the rest of us wondered why. But one by one, we were divided. Divided into two groups until it was just me being left in the dark for thirteen long months.
I was finally on the cusp of getting answers. I wiped sweaty palms on my jeans, regretting that I’d rebelled this morning and refused to wear a party dress. Aunt Lyrica loved it when I would mirror her gypsy style with my own little bohemian twist. I loved shopping for dresses at Aunt Mimi’s shop.
Aunt Lyrica settled into her seat and gestured toward the road. “While you drive, I’ll talk. There are things to know. A lot of things to know.”
Excitement bubbled up. I started the van and off we went.
And she told me a lot of things and answered a lot of my questions over what felt like a quick four-hour trip until I made it to the main street of Drowsy Hollow. I was still shaking with the truth of the Young coven as I took in the main street that I’d captured in my sketches. I’d left when I was five, but turned out I remembered it very well.
