New England Witch Chronicles

  I’d never forget the look on Peter’s face. It wasn’t only anger, but betrayal, too.

  The cool tile was a comfort to my warm tearstained cheek. Time passed, how much, I have no idea. It could’ve been minutes or it could have been hours. Once I calmed down, or at least stopped gulping for air, I crawled off the bathroom floor and into bed.

  Peter needed time to cool off. Everything would be okay in the morning, after he slept and cleared his head.

  But it didn’t feel like everything was going to be okay. It felt like my entire world had just come crashing down.

  Chapter Nine

  A bright red “B+” was scribbled across my calculus exam. Not too shabby. The grade brought a small smile to my face, which was good, because I was having a crappy morning.

  The day started off on a bad note before I even stepped out of bed. I woke up, rolled over and called Peter. No answer. I called again on my way to school and got his voicemail. In addition to Peter avoiding me, I cracked my favorite eye shadow when I dropped it on the bathroom floor and an ink pen exploded in my new bag.

  If all that wasn’t enough, my parents were back from Manhattan and Victor insisted that Bradley take all the cars in for their six-month maintenance check. After Bradley drove me to school, of course.

  “Miss Ramsey? Alexandria Ramsey?” Mr. Armen’s voice brought me back to the present. He held out the dry-erase marker.

  “What? Sorry. Yes, Mr. Armen?”

  “It’s your turn to work out the problem on the board. Number twenty-three.”

  I looked down at my half-finished homework and then at Mr. Armen. I hadn’t made it to problem twenty-three.

  After I embarrassed myself in calculus, I tormented myself the rest of the day. I checked my cell phone about a hundred times. No missed calls. No text messages.

  When I got home from school, I called Peter twice. No response.

  Peter was upset. I understood that. He probably needed a little space. It had only been one day. Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember any day, in my entire life, where I hadn’t communicated with him in some way.

  I tried to shake the thought. I could handle one day.

  Mya made chicken for dinner, but I ate in my bedroom. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with Emma and Victor. Afterward, I worked on my World History homework. I had to keep busy—anything to keep my mind off of Peter.

  I cleaned my bedroom and then my bathroom. The tub shined a pearly white after I scrubbed it for half an hour. The towels in the linen closet were stacked in a neat pile after I refolded them. I cleaned out my makeup drawer, throwing away all the half empty or expired makeup.

  I took a long shower and decided to go to bed early. Before I went to sleep, I switched on my cell phone ringer. Just in case someone wanted to call.

  I had another nightmare that night.

  Actually, it wasn’t another nightmare. It was the same nightmare that I had at Peter’s house the night the lightbulb exploded.

  I was in the Hazel Cove Cemetery again. It must have been close to Halloween because pumpkins were everywhere. The carved jack-o-lanterns sat on top of tombstones, on the ground and even lined the gravel path. Flames from the pumpkins’ candles flickered in the wind.

  He was stalking me again. His hair blew wildly as he chased me through the crumbled graveyard. I still couldn’t see his face—only a shadow. I ran down the small hill. He was getting closer. He would reach me soon. Of course he would, I already knew how this dream ended.

  Bony hands grazed my back as he pushed me to the ground. Again, I lost my balance and tumbled forward. My head split against the tombstone, the same way it had before. Blood poured from the gash in my head and onto my face, burning my eyes and blurring my vision.

  He flipped me over to face him. I knew what happened next. I raised my hands to protect my face and neck. My eyes squeezed shut as I waited for him to choke me to death.

  Nothing happened.

  I didn’t want to see his face, but I had to know what he was doing. Why wasn’t he attacking me? I opened my eyes.

  He was gone.

  I pushed the blood-soaked hair from my face. Where did he go? I looked to the right. To the left. Up the hill. He was nowhere in sight. I glanced behind me, but there was nothing but the tombstone I’d smashed my head against.

  Tombstones in this section of the cemetery were hundreds of years old. They were made of stone that was now crumbling from the passage of time. But not this one. This tombstone was new. It wasn’t made of rock or stone, but sleek gray marble.

  Sitting on top of the thick headstone was a grinning candlelit jack-o-lantern. The smiling pumpkin disturbed me. I lowered my eyes to the bloodied tombstone.

  No dates. No epitaph. Only a single name etched in the marble. The blood from my head was smeared across the front. I wiped the stone clean with my sleeve and read the name.

  * * *

  The nightmare was still bothering me at school the next day. Why was I dreaming of this man? Who was he? Why was I always in the cemetery?

  The single name etched in the tombstone meant absolutely nothing to me. I’d never seen the name before. Could “Longfellow” possibly be the name of the man who was chasing me? Why couldn’t I see his face?

  I pushed all those frustrating unanswered questions aside. I didn’t want to think about it. I couldn’t think about it. I had enough on my plate. Peter hadn’t called. Two days and still no word from him.

  The sixth period bell rang and I slipped out of the classroom. I headed to the parking lot instead of my normal route to my locker. I wasn’t in the mood to see anyone. I wanted to go home and be miserable by myself.

  I almost made it to the parking lot undetected. Almost.

  “Alex.”

  I kept walking, pretending I hadn’t heard my name.

  “Hey! Alex?”

  I stopped on the sidewalk. He was the last person I wanted to talk to.

  “Alex! I’ve been chasing you since the bell rang,” James said.

  I averted my eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m great,” I said. Just peachy. “I have to get home.”

  “You look like something’s bothering you.”

  I shook my head.

  James bent his head so he was eye level with me. “Are you upset with me? Did I do something?”

  “No. I’m fine.” I knew I wasn’t being fair.

  “Because I thought we had a good time the other night. And now you’re avoiding me like the plague.”

  I couldn’t deal with this now. I was being horrible, but at the moment, I didn’t care. I wanted to be alone. I kept my eyes glued to the pavement. I didn’t want to see his face. I didn’t want to hurt anyone else.

  “Alex?”

  “I’m sorry. I have to go.” I walked away.

  James called after me, but I didn’t look back. I felt a ridiculous amount of guilt for being rude to him. It wasn’t until I reached the end of the parking lot that I remembered I didn’t drive myself to school today. Bradley drove me.

  I could’ve asked any number of people for a ride. Instead, I wrapped my scarf around my neck and walked home.

  * * *

  I was only a few minutes from Peter’s house. I’d made the spur of the moment decision to see him. After the walk home from school (where I took the longer route to avoid walking by the Hazel Cove Cemetery) and the lonely dinner in my bedroom for the second night in a row, I realized I’d had enough of this fight. It had been two days. That was more than enough time for space. If Peter was going to avoid my calls then I’d go see him in person. He’d have no choice but to talk to me face-to-face.

  His truck wasn’t in the driveway, but I went in anyway. Maybe Lauren or Anne Marie knew where he was. One way or another, I was talking to him tonight.

  Lauren was on the couch watching TV. “Hi, honey, how are you?”

  “Hello, Mrs. LaViollette. Do you know where Peter is?” Hopefully she
couldn’t detect the anxiety in my voice.

  Lauren made a funny face. “Sweetie, he’s at work.”

  “Oh. That’s right, I forgot.” Mrs. LaViollette didn’t know about our fight.

  “Do you want to watch TV with me until he gets home?”

  “No thanks, I’ll go down to the docks. I really need to talk to him.”

  Lauren smiled. “Sure, honey, tell him not to work too late.”

  “I have your sweater.” Anne Marie stood in the hallway. I hadn’t noticed she was in the room.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I have your sweater. It’s in my bedroom.” Anne Marie disappeared down the dark hallway without another word.

  I followed without looking back at Lauren. I didn’t trust that I could control my face. Something was up. Something big. And I was about to find out what it was, because Anne Marie definitely didn’t have any sweater of mine.

  Anne Marie sat crossed-legged on her bed with her thin little nose high in the air. Her hair was lighter than Peter’s—more blond than light brown—and her eyes weren’t as bright blue, but there was no mistaking that she was Peter’s little sister.

  I closed the door behind me and waited.

  She lifted her chin. “He doesn’t want to see you.”

  My heart fell to my toes. I bit my lip, closed my eyes and counted to ten. “Why?”

  “You know why.”

  “Did he say that?”

  Blue eyes glanced away.

  “What did he actually say?”

  Silence.

  “Anne Marie?”

  “He’s upset. You hurt him. What are you even doing here? Why aren’t you with your new boyfriend?”

  “James is not my boyfriend.” I leaned my head back against the door. Fifteen-year olds.

  “You were talking to him in the parking lot after school today.”

  My head snapped forward. Peter and Anne Marie didn’t go to Hawthorne Prep. They went to Hazel Cove High. “How do you know that?”

  “See! You were!”

  “Are you following me?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have little spies watching me?”

  Again, blue eyes dropped to the floor.

  “Who?”

  Silence.

  Anger rose inside of me. I was about to explode. “WHO?”

  “Candice Washington. I asked her to keep a look out.”

  “A look out? On what? This isn’t any of your business! And you probably ran and told Peter, too. Right?”

  “Yes. I. Did. I wanted to see what goes on at your stupid rich school. Who knows what you do behind Peter’s back!”

  My heart was beating rapidly. Each pump of blood echoed in my ears. My skin felt clammy. The tips of my fingers were numb. “This has nothing to do with you, Anne Marie.”

  “He’s my brother!”

  The window curtain blew violently over the bed. The purple fabric whipped the back of Anne Marie’s head. She ducked with a loud cry. Magazines scattered across the floor. The curtains flapped wildly and Anne Marie dove across the bed. She held her hands in front of her to guard her face from the strong winds. With a loud grunt, she pulled the window shut. “Like I was saying—”

  I didn’t let her finish. “Stay out of it, Anne Marie.” I slammed the door behind me.

  I had to sprint to the car because it was raining. My clothes were drenched. My teeth wouldn’t stop chattering. But it didn’t matter, I was angry. I couldn’t believe Anne Marie was spying on me. No telling what lies she’d fed to Peter.

  Should I go to the docks or give Peter more time? I blew into my hands, trying to warm them. It was freezing. Docks or home?

  Rain clanked off the car. I leaned forward to examine the windshield. Small chips of ice had already accumulated on the hood of the car.

  Sleet.

  Driving in this weather was a bad idea. Not to mention I was still livid from my argument with Anne Marie. I’d give Peter one more day. I could handle that. I’d talk to him tomorrow after school. I carefully backed out of the LaViollette driveway and headed home.

  My fears were confirmed. One, Peter was avoiding me and, two, I’d hurt him.

  I should’ve told him about my dinner with James. If it wasn’t such a big deal, like I kept trying to convince myself, then why didn’t I tell him? I told Peter everything. But, I knew all along that it was a big deal. I knew Peter would be angry if he found out. But I did it anyway. Why?

  I didn’t like James in a romantic way. Only as a friend. If I was being honest with myself, I had to admit that I liked the attention James gave me. But that was it when it came to James. I didn’t have any romantic feelings for him. I wanted Peter to want me like James wanted me. And that was wrong on so many levels. Did I agree to go to dinner with James just to make Peter jealous? Was I that shallow? What was wrong with me?

  I needed to apologize to both of them. Tears flooded my eyes and spilled down my cheeks.

  The sleet continued to fall. With all the crying and the weather, it was almost impossible to see the road. I wiped my eyes with the back of my sleeve and switched the windshield wipers on high.

  My cell phone rang. Maybe it was Peter. I felt around inside my bag until I grabbed the vibrating phone. I answered it without reading the name.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Alex.”

  I tried to hide the disappointment in my voice. “Hi, James. What’s up?”

  “What’s wrong?” James asked.

  I guess I wasn’t that convincing. “Nothing.”

  “Are you crying?”

  “No,” I lied.

  Sleet pounded the car. I leaned forward to see better out of the windshield. I was almost home. I desperately needed to get off the road—visibility was low and the roads were slick.

  “Cut the crap, Alex. I can hear you crying. What’s going on? You’ve been acting like a zombie at school. Tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can help.”

  “Peter’s avoiding me,” I said quietly.

  A noticeable second passed. “Because of me?” His voice was calm.

  “I don’t know, I guess. It’s stupid. I didn’t tell him we went to dinner and he found out. He said I was keeping things from him.”

  “I’m sorry you’re upset.”

  That wasn’t the response I was expecting. “Really? Thank you. Listen, I need to apologize for the way I’ve been acting.”

  “You have no reason to apologize to me,” James said. “Are you home?”

  “Not yet,” I said. “I should be soon.”

  “Wait, you’re driving? It’s pouring out.”

  “Sleeting, actually,” I corrected.

  “Be careful. I’m sure the roads are bad.” He sounded like Peter.

  “I will.”

  “What are you going to do when you get home?”

  “I don’t know. Sit in my room.”

  “Alone?”

  “My parents are at the ballet in Boston.” The headlights of the car behind me were bright in my rearview mirror.

  “Do you want me to come over? We can watch a movie or just talk?”

  I liked the idea of not being alone, especially if I was giving Peter one more day of space. But I didn’t want to lead James on anymore. On the other hand, James was being a good friend. None of this was his fault and I treated him pretty badly in the parking lot after school today.

  “Sure,” I said. “I’m turning onto Main Street now.” I was only two stop signs away from the entrance to the Hallows.

  The lights in the rearview mirror were way too bright. I tried to shield my eyes. Why was this car behind me driving so close?

  “I’ll be over in few minutes,” James said.

  “Sure, that sounds….”

  The car bumped my rear fender. The impact projected my car forward. My tires hit a slick patch of ice and I slid across the road over the yellow center line. I gripped the steering wheel with both hands, trying to regain control of the car.

  I sl
ammed my foot on the brake, which made the sliding worse. The car skidded across the two-lane street. I yanked the steering wheel hard to the left, but the tires wouldn’t obey.

  “Alex? Are you there? Alex?” During all the commotion, the cell phone had fallen to the floor.

  Through the thick sheets of rain and sleet, I saw two bright circles. Another set of headlights was headed straight toward me.

  I jerked the steering wheel as hard as I could in an attempt to run myself off the road. I’d take my chances with whatever lay in the darkness. It had to be better than the oncoming car.

  The tires glided under the wet grass. I pushed the brake pedal to the floor, but nothing happened. I couldn’t slow down. Twenty feet away, directly in front of me, was a large pine tree. I turned the wheel, but there was no traction. There was no avoiding the tree. I braced myself for impact.

  The car slammed against the tree with an ear-piercing crunch. My entire body sprang forward. And then everything went black.

  Chapter Ten

  “Miss? Can you hear me? The ambulance is on the way.”

  Was he talking to me? The unfamiliar voice, with a hint of a southern accent, sounded too distant to be talking to me. Where was I? I was too groggy to open my eyes.

  A car door slammed, followed by what sounded like footsteps running on the pavement. Then a crunching noise—glass, maybe? I don’t know. It all sounded too far away.

  “Alex?”

  That voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. My head was pounding. A stab of pain slivered up my right arm when I tried to move my fingers.

  “Alex!”

  The familiar voice sounded worried. Peter? I couldn’t tell. My mind was too muddled. The voices were loud and then soft, tuning in and out like a radio.

  “Alex, are you hurt?”

  “She smashed right into that pine tree,” the southern voice said to the familiar voice.

  “Has she said anything?” The familiar voice asked.

  “No. She hit pretty hard. I tried talking to her, but I think she’s unconscious or at least slipping in and out of consciousness. The ambulance should be here soon.”