High School Magical

Chapter 4

My mom and dad, with their mugs of coffee in hand, are the picture of an average morning in our household.

The two women seated on the couch, wearing yellow caftans with what I now notice are little badges on their chests in what appear to be an X, or if I'm thinking about it in a witchy way, two wands crossed, are surreal.

When I catch my reflection in the mirror over the fireplace, my springy hair sticking out at wild angles and a stricken, but tired expression on my face just looks crazy. Like the internet meme I woke up like this crazy or I got life changing news crazy or I've gone crazy crazy.

In the silence following my contemplation, I repeat my question. "So you're telling me, Maija Marie Wessels, sixteen-year-old junior at Hamilton High School, soccer team captain, straight-A student, collector of sea glass and knitter of scarves, best friend of Chelsea Higgins, secret crusher of Carter Miller, stargazer, speedy swimmer, book lover, ice cream and confetti enthusiast... You're saying I'm a witch."

Minnie nods vigorously. "Indeed."

"I don't believe you."

"But you must," Minnie says, turning an anxious eye toward Margaret who remains quiet.

"Can I have more information?" I ask. "Witch doesn't make sense. Witches aren't real. Right?"

"I'm real. You're real," Minnie shrugs. "Witches are real. It's no big secret. Well, except to the non-magically talented."

I glance at my parents, my eyes widening.

Minnie must pick up my meaning because she says, "Parents and authorized guardians have to take an oath that's bound by their silence on the matter." Her tone is grave. "If they should speak of it..." she trails off tremulously.

My mother nods, confirming this.

"Everything will be explained at Applemoor. The thing to know is that you need to believe in your abilities before you can access them. Most people like you don't know they have these skills so it's expected that they wouldn't believe they're talented in this way."

"I'm pretty sure you've made a mistake."

My mother shakes her head. "No, dear. These things often run in families. You never met my sister. It's been a few years since you last saw your grandmother, but I assure you, there is no mistake."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask, not masking the irritation in my voice.

My father answers, "I felt it best we leave explanation to the professionals when the time came. Neither your mother nor I are magically talented." He takes my hand. "However, we did teach you to run and sprint."

"And to sing."

"To study and excel in school."

"To mind your manners."

"But witchcraft is not our area of expertise and because these skills don't manifest until you come of age, it didn't make sense to tell you of the possibility sooner."

"Didn't make sense?" A bit of annoyance toys with the otherwise enormous knot of confusion clouding my thoughts. "Dad, this doesn't make sense. I woke up this morning and the cat had a note about how I'm required to go to a school called Applemoor Academy. Seriously? You want to talk about making sense?"

"Maija, manners," my mother interjects, nodding at the visitors. She turns back to me and says, "My sweet girl, I know this is a lot to take in, but you are very special."

"So you've told me, like, a million times." I say, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.

"Because it's true and because I believe in you."

I huff a sigh.

"She means that you're really, really special," my dad adds.

"If a non-magical person spoke of it, what would happen?" I ask defiantly. I could really stand to talk to Chelsea right now.

"Strict punishment by the Coven Constabulary," Minnie says urgently.

"Is that like the magical police?" I ask.

My parents nod.

"Is Lila magical? Does she know?" I say, carelessly. I feel fists and fire rising inside as my irritation grows.

"No."

"Then how'd you know about your sister?" I ask.

"My family was different," my mother says in a clipped tone, signaling this line of questioning is over.

As though trying to douse the flames of a potential argument, Minnie says, "After you pack, we'll escort you to the Academy. Once a month, we'll check in with you and if you'd like, bring you home for the weekend. Otherwise you'll have to make your own arrangements."

"Am I going to travel to another realm?"

"Surely no," Minnie says with a laugh. "Conveniently, Applemoor is about a half hour away."

"We moved to the coast north of Boston because it's about midway between Jamaica and Finland; however we weren't planning for a witch in the family. This works out nicely. You can come home on the weekends." My mother makes this sound so normal, like how our favorite bagel place is right down the street. I could really go for a toasted cinnamon raisin right now.

"Convenient? Weekends?" I'm moments away from shouting and stomping my feet on the floor in a tantrum.

"You read the letter, right?" Minnie asks.

"I'll help you pack," my mom says, getting to her feet. "Your father will sort out any other details."

"One more thing," Margaret says sternly, speaking for the first time.

"If you are a wish witch," she looks pointedly at Minnie, "which is a very rare kind of magic, when your powers mature, you'll be able to grant three wishes."

"Does that make me like a genie?"

"Maija, don't interrupt," my mom hisses.

"No, a genie is another class of magical being. I'm sure you'll have the pleasure of meeting one at school." I sense sarcasm in place of suggesting genuine pleasure.

Perhaps it's the early hour, the sight of these gently commanding women in their caftans, or my parents telling me I'm a witch, but a dormant part of me bypasses tantrum mode and streaks toward rebellion. As the reality of going to a different school, away from my friends and the life I've always known, smashes down on me, I yell, "So I don't twitch my nose and voila! Wish granted." I try, exaggeratedly wiggling my nose. "No. Nope." I throw my hands in the air. "Guess you made a mistake. No wish witch here. Thanks for stopping by."

Minnie leans forward and places her hand on my arm. My chest heaves and sweat beads on my brow. As though a storm has passed, my breath slows, my body cools, and I feel like I can breathe again.

"What did you just do?" I ask Minnie suspiciously.

"It's perfectly normal for you to be upset, Maija. This is likely quite a shock."

She leans in and says, "But you are not normal. You have a special gift and accessing and using your magic often takes time and patience. Trust me. You'll see."

Her eyes are clear, gentle, and honest. My father rubs my shoulders and then pats my arm. My mother guides me upstairs to pack.

However, Minnie's powers must not reach the second story, because when we get to the top of the stairs I whirl on my mother, ready to launch into an angry rant. But the tears in her eyes stop me.

"I always, always knew you were special. This is not a fairytale, my dear girl. This is a true gift. You are here to do something big with your life. Something that will change the world. I've always known this. Maybe some of your grandmother's abilities rubbed off on me or perhaps I know my own daughter."

"Mom," I say, ready with a rebuttal.

She cups my cheeks in her hands. "Maija, you are magic."