Chapter 1 1 A RAVEN PERCHED ON MY WINDOWSILL, and she wanted to talk. For most people, this might be an uncommon, and perhaps unsettling, occurrence. Especially since said raven hopped along the ledge of beveled wood, swiveling her head so she could peer into my room with her glossy black eyes. She rapped her beak against the windowpane, the tap-tap-tap an eerie sound in the otherwise still and gloomy dark hours of the morning. However, given that my best friend was a witch, this wasn''t uncommon or unsettling, merely really freaking annoying, especially since it was before six a.m. "No," I said from my tangled nest of blankets and my soft pillow, eyes still heavy with sleep. "Go away.
If Al wants to talk to me, they can use their perfectly good phone." I fished mine out from the sheets and held it up as an example, waving it lazily in the direction of the window to convey my drowsy displeasure. The raven--named Lenore, since Al could never resist a fun allusion--glared at me and ruffled her midnight-blue feathers. She cawed in irritation and lifted her leg to show the small cylinder attached. "No. I refuse." I rolled over and pulled the blankets over my head. My phone screen glowed 5:49.
Eleven whole minutes still existed before my alarm would sound. And I was determined to relish every last second before my day was scheduled to begin. I closed my eyes, tucked my hands beneath my chin, and steadfastly ignored the messenger on my windowsill. Lenore tapped again, the sound sharp and aggressive. I didn''t move. She cawed. I didn''t answer. She struck her beak against the glass in short rapid-fire bursts, acting more like a woodpecker than a raven, taking her attention-seeking efforts up a level.
I refused to budge. Lenore let loose a series of high-pitched, indignant squawks, because how dare I snub her. Well, she could continue rapping at my chamber door--er, window. I was an expert at avoidance. I managed to slip back toward a blissful, dreamless sleep. But then she raked her talons across the glass. I cringed at the awful nails-on-a-chalkboard sound, and the hair on my arms stood on end. Clapping my hands over my ears, I curled into a tight ball.
She made a cawing noise akin to a cackle, then did it again. Any semblance of my resolve instantly shattered. Before she decided that a third wince-inducing scratch was required, I sat up and dramatically threw off the blankets. "Ugh. Fine, you win, you demented bird. Keep it down." Lenore quieted immediately. Her attempts to deliver her message in a timely manner had been loud enough to wake the dead, which meant she also could have potentially woken my parents, and I was certain they wouldn''t appreciate being roused by a loud, irritating bird, much less a magic one.
"You''re a menace," I whispered harshly as I stalked over to the window. She didn''t flinch when I pushed it open. She simply lifted her head and held out her leg as if she hadn''t just been throwing a tantrum. Typical magical-bird behavior. Removing the small piece of parchment from the tube attached to her leg was something I''d done a thousand times. Back when neither Al nor I had had phones to contact each other, back when we were younger and thought using a bird for messages was the epitome of magic, we''d send each other notes constantly. It was a miracle Lenore had survived the number of trips she had flown between our houses. But then we grew up and the childhood wonder around magic dimmed for both of us, in different ways.
And, well, now we could text. I grumbled a thank-you to Lenore and unrolled the missive. Today we embark on our journey to fully embrace our future and our true selves. Are you ready? See you in an hour! Ugh. I couldn''t be too mad at that. I grabbed a pen from my desk, flipped the paper over, and wrote a note in return. Ready. Let''s do this.
Text me next time, though. Your bird is a bully. I added a heart at the end to soften my words. Al would appreciate that. And it would add to the sincerity since I wasn''t all that enthusiastic about Al''s plan of a themed sophomore year. They were adamant that we approach our new school year with a guiding purpose and a slogan, as if we were middle-aged suburban adults on New Year''s Eve rather than teenagers embarking on yet another year of high school. My suggestion of the theme "unremarkable school year" was overruled despite my objection that it was unfair to allow Lenore to cast the deciding vote. I rolled the paper and slid it into the cylinder on Lenore''s leg.
She bobbed her head, nipped lightly at my finger--as was her way of showing affection--then flew off. Stretching my arms over my head, I yawned, then shut off my alarm since I was up anyway. I padded to my dresser, where I had laid out my clothes the night before. My phone beeped with a text alert. Did you get my message? I shook my head, my honey-blond hair falling across my brow. Yes. Why are you so dramatic? The reply came quickly. One of us has to be.
Sure. But not at 6 in the morning. Al''s response was the thumbs-up emoji. I narrowed my eyes. That basically meant they had read my text and acknowledged it but would more than likely send Lenore even earlier tomorrow. Al had a passive-aggressive streak a mile long and could be petty with the best of them when they wanted. And now I would have to endure it every day. A delighted thrill ran through my middle.
Despite their antagonistic emoji usage, I couldn''t help but be excited at the prospect of seeing Al at school. Al and I had been best friends since first grade. We had been inseparable all through elementary school and the beginning of middle school. But when their mothers had relocated their house to be closer to their coven headquarters, Al was suddenly in a different school district. And they had been forced to change schools. We''d stayed friends, of course, though we were only able to see each other on weekends or over breaks, and only if my older brother, Aiden, was able to drive me. We''d used Lenore to keep in touch until we were deemed old enough to have phones. But cute notes paled in comparison to hanging out with Al in person.
This year would be different, though. The school system had built and opened a new high school, and the district lines had been redrawn. We would be attending the same school for the first time since sixth grade. It was the miracle I hadn''t known I needed. Especially since Aiden was no longer around. I scrolled through the messages on my phone and stopped when I found the last one I had sent him. It was undeliverable, presumably because he had changed his number or blocked mine. The text before that had been from him telling me to "follow my own path," whatever that meant.
And to "trust myself," and that "everything would be okay." Those were dated from May. It was now August, and I hadn''t heard from my older brother since. The last time I had seen him was in January over his winter break from his second year at college. I wished I could go back in time. I''d prod him more about school, about his studies, about his life, about anything, and maybe I''d find out why he''d chosen to abandon our family. Abandon me . But I didn''t have access to anyone who could change the past.
And I had to live in the present. My backup alarm went off, reminding me I needed to get a move on, or I would be late to my first day of sophomore year. I shucked off my pajamas and changed into the outfit I had specifically chosen for the day. A pair of jeans ripped at the knees and a concert tour T-shirt of the Hexes--Al''s favorite all-witch rock band; we''d managed to score tickets to one of their shows over the summer. I zipped to the bathroom, ignoring the closed door at the end of the hall that had been Aiden''s. I scrubbed my face, my cheeks turning pink against my fair skin. I dabbed a little concealer over the pimple I had on my chin and the few that clustered just above my dark eyebrows. Then I styled my hair with a side part that exposed my forehead, just not the side with the zits.
I added a leather bracelet on my left wrist and a thin silver necklace. And perfect. I wasn''t normally this vain, but it was the first day of school, and I''d been the quiet, odd artistic kid last year. This year I wanted to blend. I tilted my head to the side and squinted. I should''ve gotten my ears pierced like Al had suggested over the summer, but I hadn''t wanted to push my parents'' boundaries too far. Maybe another time. Anyway, I couldn''t keep Al waiting.
I ran back to my room and grabbed my backpack, ensuring my sketchbook was safe inside along with all my other supplies. I''d picked up my schedule at orientation the other night, so I knew that Al and I had English Lit together, our first class of the day. Then we parted ways until lunch, where we had the same block. I slung my bag over my shoulder and breathed deeply, centering myself. Now, to get past the parents who were hopefully asleep despite Lenore''s earlier theatrics. I descended the stairs, my socked feet not making a sound on the carpet. Success! I only had to slip on my shoes and slide out the door. "Cam!" My mother''s voice rang out from the kitchen.
"I hope you''re not trying to leave for the first day of school without saying goodbye." Damn. My plan had been foiled. My shoulders sagged. "N.