Vanish

Chapter 1

The last two months since Noah died had sucked.

Everyone blamed me for his death. I couldn't walk down Broadwater's Main Street without enduring accusatory glares or hearing disparaging voices muttering something like, "Shame on Alyssa Wood, driving that poor boy to his death."

Though the turn-aways were the worst. People who'd once smiled indulgently when they'd seen Noah and I hanging out at the diner or having a picnic in the park would now turn their backs on me. Pretending I didn't exist.

Some days, I wish I didn't.

My five-month relationship with Noah had been the highlight of my crappy life. He'd made me happy. He'd made me feel like a normal sixteen-year-old. He'd made me forget what I faced at home every single day.

Home. What a crock.

I'd loved this place once. Loved the duck-egg-blue rendered walls, the alabaster window frames, the bay window in the front room, the russet tin roof. Loved the faded parquet floor, the clutter of old magazines, the herbs growing with riotous abandon in planters along the west fence.

Loved the fact it was Mom and me against the world.

Not anymore.

"Hey, Mom, I'm home," I called out, nudging the sunroom door open with my hip, trying not to juggle the box in my hands.

I'd bought a birthday cake. Chocolate. Mom's favorite. Aiming for normality in my increasingly freaky world.

I doubted it even registered with her that today was my seventeenth birthday. Because this morning had been just like every other morning for the last five years. Mom unable to drag her ass out of bed. Mom barely able to slip into day-old sweats and a grubby T. Muttering to the voices only she heard. Eyes glazed and unfocused from the vodka bottle she'd drained last night.

My family had a Wicca Threefold Law: whatever you dished out would come back three times worse. If that was the case, Mom must've done some really bad crap to end up how she was.

"Mom?" I placed the cake box carefully on the counter, hating how I wouldn't be able to stomach a piece because of the knot of nerves perpetually twisting my gut. "Let's have some cake."

She appeared in the doorway, her creepy wide-eyed stare boring into me as usual. I jumped. She'd been looking at me like this since I hit puberty, like she half-expected I'd morph into a monster. Sadly, she'd been the one to do that.

I missed my mom something fierce. The way she used to fill the house with wildflowers and candles and crystals. The way she practiced Wicca but never forced her beliefs on me. The way she'd dance around the kitchen to old bands I'd never heard of.

Now, Mom wrung her hands or ducked her head or stared into space, communicating with dead people. So she said.

I'd looked after her for the last five years and I was tired. So, so tired. The kind of tiredness that seeps into your bones and makes you ache. Losing Noah made that ache spread to my heart until I could barely breathe most days.

"Cake?" She drifted into the kitchen, her reedy voice making it sound like I'd offered a side of poison with it.

Doing my usual false, upbeat routine, I nodded. "Chocolate. Your favorite."

She muttered something unintelligible and sat at the wooden table for two in the corner.

"Happy birthday to me," I murmured under my breath. I opened the box and lifted the cake out, quelling the sudden urge to smash my fist through the frosting.