“Seen it. . . seen it. . . despise it. . .” Hilary muttered to herself as she methodically rifled through the movie selection.
“Hilary!” Blonde Lauren whined from her spot on the floor. “You can’t veto all of them. I thought tonight was my choice?”
Hilary let out a pained groan. “You know I can’t allow that, Lauren. You’ll pick some misogynistic love story”—she made air quotes at the word love—“which glorifies the regression of feminism whilst fooling the sheep-herd masses into believing that it promotes equality.”
Maggie opened her mouth to speak but didn’t get the chance.
“—when, in fact,” Hilary went on without missing a beat, “the dated gender stereotype subtext is being rammed down our throats from the opening credits.”
Maggie closed her mouth and Blonde Lauren pouted.
Isla smiled. “Ooh, that sounds good! I’m definitely in the mood for a rom-com tonight.”
Hilary scowled at her. “I mean, just look at this!” she continued her rant as she waved a DVD case in front of their faces.
A glamorous platinum-haired actress smirked back at them from the plastic box, her lips pink and glossy and her porcelain face air-brushed to perfection. A slinky scarlet dress clung to her curvaceous frame and, captured in the still-frame behind her, the leading male ogled with wide-eyed wonder.
“Vile,” Hilary declared, tossing the DVD box onto the floor. “And just think—this is the so-called modern society we live in.”
“Hey!” Blonde Lauren protested as she scrambled across the mound of cushions to retrieve the DVD. “I want to watch this one,” she said, clutching the movie protectively to her chest. “The reviews on watch-rom-com.com say it’s the movie of the decade.”
“Brainwashed,” Hilary uttered. “Sometimes I worry about you, Lauren. You’ll believe anything that anyone tells you, no matter how far-fetched it is.”
Blonde Lauren scowled. “That’s not—”
All of a sudden, Maggie couldn’t stand it anymore. She jumped to her feet, tipping the bowl of popcorn in the process.
“I’m cursed!” she declared, covering her eyes piteously. When she peeped out through her fingers, she saw three blank faces staring back at her.
Isla’s expression crumpled into laughter. “Not this again! Come on, Mags, you’re not seriously still freaked out about what Madam Emerald said, are you?”
Maggie dropped her hands and pressed her palms together anxiously. “Well, yes, actually, I kind of am,” she admitted.
Isla laughed again. “The Incredible Psychic Madam Emerald wouldn’t let Maggie have her fortune told,” she explained to the other girls. “And now Maggie thinks she’s cursed.”
Maggie placed her hands on her hips. “It’s not like I jumped to that conclusion on my own, Isla. Madam Emerald told me herself that I was cursed! And then Joel said it, too,” she mumbled quietly.
“Joel Tomlins?” Hilary spluttered. Her heavily made-up eyes widened behind her chunky red fashion glasses.
Isla groaned. “Of course he’s going to tell you that. You guys bicker all the time,” she pointed out. “He’d say anything to get a rise out of you.”
“He’s cute, though,” Blonde Lauren added. “You know, for a. . .”
“W-i-t-c-h,” Maggie spelled out.
Blonde Lauren shifted in discomfort.
“You’re not cursed, Maggie,” Isla assured her as she neatly scooped the spilled popcorn back into the bowl.
Outside, the wind howled as it swept through the trees, rattling the window pane.
Blonde Lauren gave an audible shudder. “Can we quit talking about curses, please? It’s giving me the creeps.”
“Tell me about it!” Maggie exclaimed. “You’re not even the one who’s cursed. So how do you think I feel?”
“It’s not real!” Isla giggled. “You can’t believe a thing those so-called witches say. For example, wanna know what Madam Emerald told me?” She continued on hurriedly, looking excitedly between the other girls without waiting for a response. “She said that Kaden wasn’t interested in dating me, and then look what happened—we ended up hanging out together all night after Maggie ditched me.” Isla smiled coyly at the memory.
“Ooh, really?” Blonde Lauren’s eyes lit up with the promise of a more appealing topic of discussion.
Isla nodded. “Madam Emerald is a hack,” she went on, tucking a strand of silky black hair behind her ear. “And Joel is. . . Joel.”
Maggie sank back down to the floor. Maybe Isla was right. Maybe this was Joel’s payback for the stunt she’d pulled in Joyless’s detention dungeon.
But still, why couldn’t she forget the look on his face that night at his house? Why couldn’t she shake the feeling that this was more than a joke?
As the other girls resumed the movie debate over horror vs romance, Maggie found herself replaying the events of Friday night in her mind. It didn’t matter how many people told her otherwise—she couldn’t erase one cold, hard fact: Joel had been scared.
And now, so was she.
WHEN THE FINAL school bell rang at the end of the afternoon, Maggie was up and out of her seat before it had even finished its chime. As her classmates’ chairs scraped against the floor, echoing off the high ceilings, Maggie was already hurrying across the classroom. She angled herself in the doorway, forcing people to manoeuver around her as she crossed her arms and stared in Joel’s direction. She noticed a weary expression creep onto his face as he realised that he couldn’t avoid her this time.
It was already Tuesday, and he had managed to sidestep her for two whole school days—not to mention the entire weekend.
Joel was the last one remaining in the classroom. Finally, he got up from his desk and began to tentatively approach the door, doing his best to avoid her gaze.
Maggie held her ground in the middle of the doorway. “Well?” she pressed before he had a chance to say anything.
“I’m thinking,” Joel told her.
Maggie let out an incensed groan. “You’ve had four days to think!” she cried. “Haven’t you come up with anything yet?”
“Nope.” Joel eased past her and began down the mosaic-tiled corridor.
Maggie stormed after him. “Joel!” she called, exasperated. “I thought you were going to help me?”
“I’m trying,” he replied, barely glancing over his shoulder.
Maggie grabbed the back of his T-shirt, forcing him to stop walking. Begrudgingly, he turned around to face her.
“Try harder,” she snapped. “I’ll pay you. I’ll do anything. I just have to get rid of this. . . this curse thing.” Her face was taken over with an expression of revulsion as she said the last few words.
Joel raked his hands through his hair. “I’ve told you already—I’m thinking.”
“But it’s been four days!” Maggie wailed, stamping her foot on the highly polished floor.
A couple of students passing through the corridor raised their eyebrows at the scene. She shot them a sour look and they scuttled past.
Maggie took hold of Joel’s elbow and steered him towards a discreet alcove. “Bad things have been happening to me, Joel,” she whispered. “Cursey things.”
He frowned. “Like what?”
“Ms Joyless is on my case all the time—”
Joel snorted. “Oh, well, if that’s your reasoning, then everyone is cursed.”
“And I keep losing things,” Maggie went on, ignoring him. “My homework, my clothes. . .”
Joel’s gaze wandered down to her peach coloured t-shirt.
Maggie folded her arms across her chest. “Not while I’m wearing them,” she said, flustered. “They disappear from my room.”
“Oh.” Joel shifted the weight of his gym bag on his shoulder. “So there’s a kleptomaniac on the loose,” he guessed.
Maggie grimaced. “There’s a curse on the loose, more like.” She took a step towards him and lowered her voice. “Not on the loose. On the me.”
Joel sighed. “Okay, so you’ve got a spell on you,” he agreed. “But I don’t know what it is, either. And it’s not necessarily what you think it’s going to be, so until I figure out exactly what it is we’re dealing with, there’s not a whole lot I can do about it.”
Maggie let out a strangled noise, attracting more prying gazes from passers-by. “But you’re not even trying to figure it out,” she complained.
“I’m thinking about it,” Joel repeated calmly.
“You’ve been avoiding me for four days!” she accused.
“I’m thinking about it from afar.”
Maggie slapped her hand to her forehead. “Communicate, Joel,” she grumbled. “Geesh. I’m freaking out over here, and the only person I know who can help me is you. And you’re not being very helpful.”
“I’m helping,” Joel protested. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
Maggie gave a reluctant nod. “Yeah, I guess.” Then she brightened. “Does that mean we can go somewhere and talk about it?”
Joel’s eyes narrowed. “I thought we just did talk about it.”
Maggie deflated again.
“I can’t talk about it now, anyway,” Joel added. “I’ve been picked for the soccer team and I’ve got to get to practice. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He turned and continued along the corridor.
“Can I at least get your number?” Maggie yelled after him.
“No,” he replied without looking back.
A few girls lingering at their lockers stifled giggles. Maggie cringed. This was utterly humiliating.
Joel Tomlins is evil, she fumed silently. And he’s going to help me whether he wants to or not.
Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she marched towards the boys changing rooms. Beside the door through which Joel had just disappeared stood Charlie Wells, whose head was dipped over a stream of water coming from the drinking fountain.
With a deep breath, Maggie approached. “Hi, Charlie,” she said brightly.
Charlie’s thumb slipped from the button and the stream of water immediately disappeared. He looked up, wiping droplets from his mouth.
“Yo, Ellmes,” he said with a lazy grin. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Maggie winced. Generally she and Charlie didn’t socialise—and she wasn’t in any hurry to change that.
“Can I borrow your phone?” she asked in the sweetest voice she could manage. “I’ve lost mine and I need to send a text.” She forced a smile.
Charlie puffed out his already enormous chest. “Anything for a chick in distress,” he said as he slid his touchscreen from his varsity jacket pocket. “Dictate, sweet thang.”
Maggie fought back the urge to retch. “Can I type it?” She tried out an eyelash flutter, emulating how she’d seen Isla do it for guys she liked.
Charlie straightened in concern. “What’s wrong with your eyes, dude?”
Maggie stopped fluttering. “Can you just give me the phone?” she grumbled. “It’s private.”
Charlie grinned. “You can tell me anything,” he said, sidling a little closer to her. “C-dog can keep a secret.” He winked.
Ugh, thought Maggie. He calls himself C-dog?
“It’s really private,” she insisted. “Girl stuff, you know?”
He took a step back. “Oh,” he exhaled, then thrust his phone into her hands like it was about to detonate. “Girl stuff,” he echoed with a shudder. “Right.”
She snatched the phone and quickly scrolled through his contacts list. She found Joel’s name and selected the option to send his number as a text message. Then she hastily typed her own number into the recipient box and pressed send. A moment later, her phone beeped from inside her shoulder bag.
Charlie frowned. “Hey, was that your phone?” he asked, staring down at her bag.
“No,” Maggie lied, laughing lightly. “No, it was my. . . Bye!”
Then she hurried away in case he decided to check his outbox.
THAT EVENING AFTER soccer practice, Joel took his time in the locker room. It was days like this that he wished he lived on campus. He didn’t want to go home. And if he stuck around the school long enough, maybe he wouldn’t have to.
In fact, considering all the people Joel was avoiding at the moment, he was running out of places he could hide. At the house, he was tired of watching Maximus mould Evan into the family’s saviour; the super witch whose sole purpose was to bring glory to the Tomlins coven. That wasn’t Evan. Or, at least, it hadn’t been.
And then, of course, there was Maggie. . . It wasn’t that Joel didn’t want to help Maggie, just that he really didn’t know how to. This was serious witchcraft, and he was out of his depth.
So, instead, he hid.
After the rest of the team had showered and left, Joel lay on one of the locker room benches and stared up at the generic grey ceiling. Droplets of humidity from the shower stalls clung to the lights, threatening to drip down and splatter on the tiled floor.
The locker room door opened.
“Joel?” came a voice he knew.
Joel rolled onto his side and greeted Evan with a tentative smile.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” Evan replied. “What are you doing? All the other guys have left already. I saw Charlie on his way out and he said you were still in here—”
“You don’t have to come to my practices, Evan,” Joel told him.
Evan walked across the room and, shoving Joel’s feet off the end of the bench, took a seat beside his brother.
“I know,” he said. “But I want to. I like watching you guys play, even if it’s just a warm up. And even if you do suck.”
Joel grinned and gave his brother a playful kick.
“So, are you planning on sleeping here tonight?” Evan asked lightly, peering down at his brother.
Joel sat up from his supine position. “Do you think anyone would notice?”
“I’d notice. So would Ainsley, and Pippin.” Evan turned his gaze to the row of lockers. “And Dad,” he finished.
Joel snorted. “I’m sure you’d all survive without me.”
“I wouldn’t.”
Joel stayed silent and followed his brother’s lead, staring at the bank of metal lockers in front of him.
Evan cleared his throat. “So,” he started, “are you ready to go or what?”
Joel covered his face with his hands and lay back down on the bench.
“What’s wrong?” Evan asked wearily. “Tell me, Joel.”
Joel groaned. “Nothing’s wrong,” he said, unable to meet his brother’s gaze. The truth was, he didn’t know where to begin. Ever since they’d moved into Really Old Aunt Pearl’s house, life as they’d known it had changed. And it just kept changing. “I’m just. . . tired.”
“Tired of what?” Evan pushed. “The house? Dad?” He looked to his sneakers. “Me?”
“No,” Joel answered, sitting up again. “Not you. I’m just. . .”
“Tired?” Evan guessed.
Joel nodded his head, fixing his eyes on the bank of lockers again.
Evan patted him on the shoulder before standing up. “Come on,” he said, walking towards the door. “I’m hungry. We could get chili fries on the way home.”
Joel’s stomach rumbled at the mention of greasy food. Damn Evan. He knows my willpower isn’t strong enough to say no to that.
Wearily, Joel rose to his feet and stretched his arms over his head. “Make it a cheeseburger and you’re on,” he bartered.
“Done,” said Evan.
Joel slung his gym bag over his shoulder and set off after his brother. Just the two of them.
Just like old times, he thought, smiling to himself.
They walked through the deserted annex and out into the night. The Jeep was one of the only cars left in the parking lot. Evan jumped into the driver’s seat and started the engine while Joel climbed into the passenger seat.
They began heading off campus, driving towards the main road.
 
; “You guys played okay today,” Evan said as he steered into a steady flow of traffic.
Joel began fiddling with the dial on the radio. “But did you see Charlie miss that shot?”
Evan smiled. “Yeah. He sucks.”
“Mm-hmm,” Joel agreed. “How do you think I did?” His voice betrayed him, giving way to a tremor on the final word. He kept his focus on tuning the stereo, trying to pretend he didn’t care about the answer.
“Good,” Evan replied, his eyes trained on the road. “Really good. I mean, you’ve got some bad habits, but it’s nothing a little training won’t fix.”
Joel sat back in his seat. “Yeah,” he accepted. “I can work on bad habits.” He hesitated and traced the stitching on his jeans with his thumbnail. “How’s your, um, training going?”
Evan stiffened. This was a subject the brothers didn’t really talk about anymore. Not since they’d stopped doing spells together and Maximus had taken over Evan’s training, bringing it to a whole other level.
“It’s going okay,” Evan said at last.
Joel stared at his hands. “Yeah? So, is it. . . different?”
“Kind of.” Evan’s voice was tense.
Gated houses whizzed past the Jeep’s windows as they cruised leisurely down the suburban road.
“Different how?” Joel asked, his voice sounding tinny in his ears—reminding him of how he was now an outsider in something that he and Evan used to share.
“Well,” Evan started, fidgeting with the steering wheel, “the spells are stronger, for one.”
“Oh, yeah?” Joel looked over at his brother now.
Evan nodded. “You know when you do a real heavy incantation and it just completely rocks you?” he asked, beginning to speak more fluidly now.
Joel nodded. He loved that feeling.
“It’s kind of like that,” Evan continued, “but bigger. Much bigger. It feels as though your body is going to implode, but it also feels. . .”
“Good?” Joel finished for him.
Evan nodded his head and grinned.
Joel couldn’t help but want to know more. After all, the spells Evan was doing were at a calibre Joel had never known—and perhaps never would.