Daylight hatched over Thorne Point at seven on Friday morning, and Cora nestled farther beneath the covers. Plum, her stuffed bat, clutched to her chest.
After an awful night of restlessness, she'd fallen asleep sometime after midnight, met with the same nightmare of Mrs. Campbell and Beau. It'd been five days since the night she'd sent her into an eternal slumber. That's what Mariam had called it.
"An eternal slumber. That's a tricky one," Agatha had said. Despite being good with healing potions, she wasn't certain there was anything she could do. Poor Mrs. Campbell would go on dreaming well until her flesh decayed.
Someone knocked and she grumbled, shifting the other way. "Cora, honey, are you up?" Stella entered the room. Cora, wide awake despite her closed eyes, waited for her mother to say what she'd been dreading, as she sat on the edge of her bed.
"It's been a few days," said Stella. "I was talking to your grandmother, and we think it's time you go back to school."
The dried tears on her lashes made it hard to see. Good. She had no intention of leaving her room ever again. Stella reached out, placing her hand on Cora's knee. "It isn't the end of the world, you know. It's been tough but it'll get better as time goes on."
"He hates me, Mom." Cora hugged Plum tighter, one of the few good things to come out of this mess. "He hates me like Willow hates everyone and everything. Can't you see how much that hurts?"
"Yes, I can."
"No, you can't." Wide awake, she tossed aside the covers and sat up in a sulk. "All you and Granny and Grandma care about is this stupid curse, giving into it every single time. And I'm sick of it. You don't know how hard it's been having to hurt someone. Someone I really liked for once. I hate Blessie Gray. I hate her."
Stella scooted closer and Cora turned away, staring across the room at the book on her desk. "I know this has been hard for you," she said. "But the worst is over now. You don't have to go through it again. Honey, why are you so hung up on this boy? Tell me, what's so special about him?"
"Beau's a good person."
"You didn't answer the question." Stella's smile was genuine.
Cora took a deep breath. "It's not like I'm like Granny. I don't have a hundred suitors chasing me."
"So, you like him because he likes you."
Cora searched deep down in her heart for the answer. "I like him because..." The book on her desk caught her eye again, the one he'd given her, a bookmark sticking out where she'd left it. "I like him because I can be who I am around him, a sorceress or just regular me. I hate what I did to Mrs. Campbell, Mom. But it wasn't so bad being with him. Isn't there anything we can do?"
"I'm afraid there might not be."
"What about Granny? She must know someone who can help with all her contacts."
"If she did, I'm sure she would've told us."
Cora's shoulders fell, defeated. Perhaps her time with Beau had come to an end. He had every reason to never want to see her again.
"In the meantime, let's get you in the shower and down for breakfast."
"Do I really have to go to school?" She yanked a loose thread in her bedspread. "That place stinks."
"Would you rather I go to jail, my dear child?"
She didn't have to answer that question.
Crumbs and Crumble Café was a perfect contender in Cora's quest to heal her rue, or at least nudge it further along.
As she and Eva stood in line, she tried to find comfort in the familiarity of the sounds and smells, the no-fuss yet charming décor-shoes squeaking against the black and white vinyl flooring as the patrons in line shuffled along. Try as she might, memories of the evening she'd met Beau coursed through her mind, driving deeper the knife.
Had he told anyone she'd charmed Mrs. Campbell unconscious? If so, why hadn't she been brought in for questioning? He had no reason to protect her.
"Hello, miss distracted. Are you even listening to me?" Eva nudged her arm. "Seriously, Cora. Sometimes I wonder what goes on in that head of yours."
"I'm sorry, E. What were you saying?" She shook away her thoughts of Beau. After all, she'd done what she needed to. Break the boy. Keep her powers. Make her family proud.
Why then did it feel so wrong?
"I can't believe you missed almost five days of school," said Eva. "Lucky you. I haven't had a sick day since..." She wrinkled her nose. "I don't think I've ever had time off school."
Trust me, E. I'm nowhere near lucky.
"I wasn't all that enchanting," she admitted. School, like her mother had said, would be a good distraction. With everything going on, she wouldn't have time to think about Beau or Mrs. Campbell.
"No homework. No gross cafeteria lunches. A cute neighbor." Eva counted down on her fingers. "Sounds perfect to me."
"Not when you have four relatives, including an exasperating little sister."
"I guess so." Eva pressed her lips together. "How is Beau anyway?"
Heartbroken. Desolate. Hopeless. Choose one.
"I actually haven't seen him in a while." Cora tried to keep the deception from her voice and off her face. She chewed her bottom lip.
"That's unfortunate. Well, if anything, we can always go to prom together." Eva grabbed her hand and squeezed. "Us girls against the patriarchy."
She would've fallen into a pit of despair right there had they not been next in line to place their orders. She didn't deserve Eva who believed in her no matter what. It took all Cora's strength to remain unruffled in the light of her foulness.
They made their way down Wicks and 5th, Eva chatting animatingly about prom and student council. She tried to listen and would've given her pinkie finger for relief from her guilt. Make the most of your day, Agatha had said.
She took a sip of her drink, expecting its sweetness to do away with the hollowness behind her ribcage, but it tasted as flat and flavorless as the kale smoothies Mariam used to force the family to drink, claiming it kept her perky and youthful.
Nothing could fill the gaping hole in her chest, not even the largest cup of Crumbs and Crumble's S'mores Hot Chocolate. She tried to put the whole thing out of her mind all morning, but it was hard to ignore her pestering shame-gory and messy. Picking at it worsened it until she swore everyone could see her for what she'd become.
Cora, the life destroyer.
Mortified, she snuck out of her fourth period science class to calm down. In the third stall in the bathroom, she sat on the toilet seat and tried to breathe. "In then out, Cora. In then out," she said, clutching the Peter Pan collar of her blouse. The bathroom had been empty when she'd come in, so she'd left the door to the stall open. Snapping her fingers now, the door shut itself just as two voices wafted into the room.
"It was so weird," said Nola Roland. "One minute I was telling them to be quiet and the next I couldn't move my lips. The doctors think I had some weird stroke, but I don't think I did."
Cora pulled her feet up, listening. That morning the school had still been abuzz with talk about what happened to Nola. Cora didn't think she'd have to face her until ninth period when they had history together. Clearly, she'd been wrong.
"What do you think happened?" another person asked. Cora recognized the voice as Sofie Richmond's.
A faucet turned on. The door to the stall beside her opened. "I don't know," said Nola. "But that Cora Emerson is one weird girl."
Sofie who was at the sink laughed. Cora's heart pained her. She'd always considered Sofie an acquaintance. She'd always been cordial. She'd been wrong again and considered bursting out of the stall if only to embarrass her. But she sat there, legs against her chest.
"Wait, aren't you guys friends?" Nola asked.
"Not really," said Sofie. "Her only real friend is Eva George."
"Ha!" Nola laughed. "Maybe they're into each other."
I have lots of friends.
Cora tried to count them all but came up short. The toilet flushed, the door banged open next to her, and another faucet sprung to life as one turned off.
"I wouldn't doubt they're into each other," said Sofie. "Anyway, I'll see you in class. Ta-ta."
When Sofie had left, Cora took her numb legs off the seat. She pushed the door of the stall open. Nola whipped around, stunned to see her. And maybe, Cora noticed, a little scared. She turned on the faucet at a sink and pretended to wash her hands, watching Nola through the mirror as Nola did the same to her. Nola's expression was stony, but she didn't say anything. She kept her head down, her brown hair falling around her face in messy waves.
There was a million charms Cora could have used on her. They all flashed through her mind, but she couldn't do it. She couldn't ruin Nola's life. One life was enough to ruin and even then, she wasn't sure she'd done the right thing. She turned off the faucet and shook out her hands. She did, however, bump Nola's shoulder as she passed.
It was a gesture she hoped said, "I am not the sorceress to mess with."
She kept the conversation she'd overheard between Nola and Sofie to herself, not wanting to drive a wedge between Eva and the other girls on the student council. After all, it had been her fault. She'd done the spell on Nola.
Her rest of the day at school hadn't gone much better. As hard as she'd tried to concentrate on her lessons, the more Beau came to mind. The ache wouldn't leave her alone, and she wasn't certain she didn't deserve it. While her mother and grandmother weren't too bothered, she couldn't explain how she'd hurt Mrs. Campbell without meaning to.
On the bus ride home, she studied her reflection in the window. Nothing had changed. She was simply Cora, coily-haired, brown-eyed, with a short nose like her mother's. She sighed. No one could convince her she was wickeder than the rest.
She hopped off the bus at her stop and took her time walking home. That evening the Emersons would play hostesses to the Grays. She didn't doubt that her grandmother and mother were in the kitchen preparing right now.
There would be bowls soaring all over the room, filled with batter for the cake and every other ingredient her grandmother could think of that wasn't meat. By the time she got home, she'd thought up several ways to get back at Tilda, all of them unusable.
Tilda and Nola sure do have a lot in common.
"I'm home," she said as she always did. She poked her head into the kitchen. As she'd suspected, her mother and grandmother were in the middle of supervising the cooking. As bowls mixed themselves, they flipped through Agatha's cookbooks, pointing out new recipes they could try all in the name of impressing Blythe and Tilda Gray.
"I'm home," Cora said again.
Over the ruckus, they didn't hear her, so she took herself upstairs to Willow's room instead. Willow opened before she could knock. "Great, it's you." She stepped aside to let Cora into her room.
Cora came in and sat on her bed. Willow sat beside her. "I can't believe Mom is making us have dinner with them," she said, putting emphasis on the word "them." I have a theory that they're actually ogres in disguise."
When she said that, Cora thought of Tilda's hideous corned toes and shuddered. "You know we don't have to play nice." She held up her hand and wiggled her fingers.
Willow raised an eyebrow. "Hmm, tell me more, sis."
When did she learn to do that?
"I don't actually have a spell in mind," she admitted.
Willow grumbled and fell backwards on her back. "How about we turn her into an actual ogre. I think she'll look great in green."
"You're obsessed with ogres, aren't you? And I think Mom would notice a giant monster stomping around our house." Cora dropped her bag from her shoulder to the floor.
"Then come up with something then." Willow sat up. "Weren't you guys friends once? There must be something we can use against her floating around in that brain of yours."
Cora stared at her reflection in the mirror across from Willow's bed. "What if we play a prank like our Halloween character Mrs. Stern?"
"I think I've outgrown Mrs. Stern." Willow flopped onto her back once more.
Cora grabbed her bag and stood. She strode to the door. "If you come up with something let me know. Tilda Gray is a pain in the you-know-what and must be dealt with."
Willow snorted. "Same."
The grays arrived at six. Stella got the door for them. Cora and Willow watched from the living room as Blythe kissed Stella's cheeks. "It smells heavenly in here," Blythe said.
Stella laughed. "Let me take your coats."
Both Blythe and her daughter had worn matching brown fur coats, most likely made from real bunnies. As Stella began to usher them towards the living room, Cora and Willow disappeared from the doorway, both settling down on the couch as if they hadn't been spying.
"You've redecorated." Blythe sauntered in, gazing about the room with her hand under her chin. "It's charming."
Stella laughed again, a little louder than usual. "Why don't you two have a seat? I'll bring you both a drink. Wine?" she asked Blythe.
"Water for me and Tilda," Blythe said, settling into the loveseat.
Tilda, arms crossed, squeezed into the seat on the couch on Cora's right. She didn't acknowledge Cora or Willow and they didn't acknowledge her.
"What are you girls watching?" Blythe plastered a smile on her red lips as she leaned forward to get a better view of the TV.
Along with her signature pearl necklace, she wore a near ankle length black dress with a high neckline. Her hair, which had been straightened, fell to her shoulders. Her brown skin flushed an unnatural shade of pink. The only thing Tilda hadn't inherited from Blythe was her nose, which spread as she smiled.
"Cartoons," said Willow.
Stella came back with the water for Tilda and her mother in their better glasses. Not the plastic cups she let Cora and Willow use.
Blythe took a sip. "Whew, this is cold." She made a face of disgust and set the glass down by her feet.
Tilda sipped hers.
"Honey," Stella said.
It took Cora a moment to realize that her mother had spoken to her. "Yeah, Mom." She didn't turn from the TV, trying her hardest to ignore Tilda.
"Why don't you girls go upstairs for a while? Give me and Blythe the room. I'll call you girls down when dinner's ready." Stella's smile was so sweet it could have given everyone in the room a toothache.
Cora pushed herself off the couch, careful to not touch Tilda. When she got to the door, she spun. "Are you coming or not?"
Both Willow and Tilda followed Cora up to her room. Willow sat on the bed and picked up the book Beau had given her. "What's this?" she asked, holding it upside down.
Cora took it from her, not wanting to share it. "It's a book."
"I know," said Willow. "But since when do you read?"
Cora rolled her eyes and put the book in her desk drawer, away from Willow's sticky fingers. Tilda hung back, gazing about Cora's room, her nose wrinkling.
"Is there something wrong, Tilda?" Cora asked, in her most "I'm trying to be pleasant" voice.
Tilda grinned, catching on. "Nope." She sat next to Willow as if she was sitting on a lump of hot coal.
Willow scooted over.
"So," said Tilda.
"So," said Cora.
"So," said Willow.
Tilda grinned again; amused by the game they were playing. "What's new in Cora land?"
Cora chose to ignore the question, even Willow knew better than to give away anything about her sister. "Cut the crap, Tilda," she said. "Why have you been leaving nasty comments on my blog? What have I ever done to you?" Laughter and the clink of glasses drifted up from downstairs. Cora went to the door and closed it, not wanting the grownups to hear if things did get nasty. She felt they might.
Tilda laughed. "They weren't meant to be nasty. I was just trying to help a friend."
Cora curled her hands into fists so tightly they shook. "What did I ever do to you?" she asked again.
Tilda tilted her chin up. "It's people like your family who give us a bad name. You wouldn't know wickedness if someone spat in your faces." She said "spat" with so much force she did spit a little."
Willow stood then; her fists balled like Cora's. To level the playing field, Tilda stood too.
"Because we don't parade what we are you think you have the right to say these things," Cora said.
"It's nothing personal," said Tilda. "But I think we'd be better off without your family."
"You're just jealous," Willow said.
"Why would I be jealous?" Tilda shoved her finger into her chest.
"Because your daddy had to be tricked into loving you," she said. "You spoiled, conniving, evil wench."
Cora had never heard Willow talk like that before, and at that moment she stood a little taller, proud of her sister. Tilda's face contorted into one of anger. She raised her hand to backhand Willow.
"Stop," said Cora. She thrust out her hand, even though she stood too far away to stop Tilda from hitting Willow, but it worked. Tilda squeaked at them. At least, that's what it sounded like. She clutched her throat, tried to talk, but squeaked again.
"What's wrong with her?" Willow asked, almost laughing, as Tilda let out a series of uncontrolled squeaks.
Cora lowered her outreached hand, tucking it behind her back. Tilda pushed Willow out of her way and stormed towards the door, squeaking at them. Cora moved out of her way before she could be shoved out of the way. Tilda had her hand on the doorknob when all of a sudden, as if she'd melted, she disappeared.
Shocked, Cora and Willow bent over the small pile of Tilda's clothing, her red sweater dress and black flats. Cora picked up the dress and almost squeaked herself when she saw a small brown mouse scurry out underneath the door. She swore she heard a small voice say, "You will pay for this Cora Emerson."
Cora and Willow looked at each other.
"That's that," said Willow.
"That's that?" said Cora. "I turned her into a mouse."
"You sure did." Willow giggled. She made to leave, stepping over Tilda's shoes.
Cora grabbed the back of her blouse. "No, you're going to help me find her."
Willow pulled herself free of her grasp. "Why? She had it coming."
"Because her mother is downstairs." Cora held Tilda's dress tightly in her fists.
Willow considered this. She kicked one of Tilda's flats. "Okay, but on one condition."
Cora didn't want to finish Tilda's job, but she had the urge to hit Willow. "What is it?"
Willow came closer and whispered, "You have to tell mom that you'll be with me and Oliver on our date."
"I already know that." She was even more annoyed now with her sister.
"But you won't be." Willow raised an eyebrow. "You'll be somewhere else while Oliver and I have our date."
There was a moment of pause while Cora considered this.
You sneaky brat.
"Deal," she said.
Willow held out her hand and they shook on it.