Excerpt #1 (Back in high school)
Marigold
“You actually believed Jack liked you, didn’t you?” Felecia
asked, flicking a strand of my frizzy hair.
I snapped my head up and glared into the girl’s watery gray
eyes. “Is that why you lied and told him I had a boyfriend and couldn’t come to
the party?” At least, I hoped that was what happened, because if Jack really
didn’t care about me . . . I shivered at the thought.
“We know you’ve put a spell on him, witch. He wanders the
halls searching for you between classes, and Fiona caught him doodling your
name on his notebook,” Felecia bit out between her clamped teeth. “He’s clearly
bewitched.”
“So you’re protecting
him from me then?” I asked, stepping toward the twins.
“That’s right.” Fiona offered up a nasty sneer. “I saw him
first, and since I can’t compete against your black magic voodoo, I invented a
boyfriend for you. Now Jack thinks you’ve been playing both ends.”
I moved even closer as they each crept back. “Wh-what does
it matter, witch?” Felicia said, her hands shaking. “He’s leaving in the
morning for Port Fare. You would have lost him anyway.”
I stopped. They had a point. What did it matter? The boy I
loved was leaving. The only person ever to have defended me against the witch
taunts. I turned for the door, but stopped when I heard the twins’ snide
laughter. It burned hot in my stomach. Before clearing the door, I casually
flipped my hair over my shoulder, or at least I hoped it looked that way to my
classmates. Only the gesture meant so much more. Through my strands of hair, I
wiggled my index finger at the Farious twins. A stink rose from the girls so
vile people actually tripped over themselves in an effort to escape. When the
unmistakable noises started, laughter filled the room and fingers pointed at
the girls who would forevermore be known as the Fartious twins.
Since coming back I’d only seen her a few times, the first
being about two months ago. She was crossing the road bringing her herbs and
oils to the tourist shop next to the station to sell. My heart flipped over in
my chest. She looked good. Better than good. Beautiful. Her skinny, stick-like
body had filled out nicely with its womanly curves. She’d changed the way she
wore her hair. In high school she usually had frizzy, untamed curls or she’d
keep it tethered in a fluff-ball of a ponytail. Now it hung in long soft curls
that made me want to reach out and touch each and every one. I watched her
cross to the shop and disappear inside the station. I just stood there like a
dummy without saying a single word.
Sherry Gammon
