How on earth did I end up here? I was supposed to be at a party kissing the boy of my dreams, instead I’m dancing naked on the town common, on Halloween, with a Coven of strange women who might be witches, a bunch of zombies that I have to return to their graves, a talking crow, and my pet ghost thrown in for good measure. Just yesterday I was an ordinary teenager…
One day earlier…
I left school on Friday, thrilled to be free for the weekend. My best friends, Bryony and Kate, were discussing what costumes to wear to Tamsin Warner’s Halloween party tomorrow night, and I was super excited too.
Tamsin seemed to have invited everyone in our year, as well as a few kids from the other school in town, one of whom was Sean Carrey.
Sean Carrey is the boy I like.
I had been in the local shopping centre a few weeks ago with my mates, when a bunch of boys started showing off in front of us on their skateboards. One, in particular, had caught my attention. He had brown hair with a floppy fringe that he kept flicking off his face, big brown eyes, and a dazzling smile. He knew he was cute. What had amazed me most about him was that he seemed to think I was cute too. Despite my being surrounded by some quite pretty female friends, he kept smiling at me. Me, plain, boring Emily Rand.
The only interesting thing about me is maybe my hair. It’s long and dark. But my eyes are dishwater grey, I think my lips are too thin and my nose is too big. My dad keeps telling me I’m going to be “a great beauty some day”, just like my mother was, but I think that day is quite a long way off right now. Plus, my dad is biased.
Anyway, this boy kept looking over, and my friends all noticed and started nudging me. I was embarrassed but secretly delighted.
Despite being nearly sixteen I haven’t had much attention from boys, and this one was perfect for my first serious crush. He didn’t go to our school, which was a major plus point. I’ve known all the boys in my school since we were five and clearly remember the phase where they all thought it was hilariously funny to wipe snot on my back; not to mention that time I spent the night at Kate’s house and my spare knickers fell out of my bag onto the classroom floor and all the boys threw them back and forth whilst I howled in the toilets and refused to come out for three hours.
This boy had not been part of any of that; he was a mystery, without any childish past, and did I mention he was cute?
After about twenty minutes of showing off in front of us, his friends got chatting to my friends, and so naturally we talked a bit.
His name was Sean Carrey, he went to Fairgreen School on the other side of town, he was sixteen, and he liked pizza and he loved the Alien movies. That was about all I learned. Then his mates wanted to push off and he didn’t ask for my number or anything, he just said, “See you around, Emily.”
But I never did see him around.
I kept hoping to run into him again, despite being really nervous about doing so. I made my friends go back to the shopping centre every Saturday after, but we never found them.
Then last Monday Tamsin invited us to her party, and she mentioned that some of her friends were coming from Fairgreen. I didn’t want to ask her about Sean, but I didn’t have to; it turned out he had already asked Tamsin about me.
She was almost green with envy as she told me that Sean had specifically asked her if I was going to be there.
I blushed a lot, but it was a happy blush. He had remembered my name, and he told Tamsin to tell me that he was looking forward to seeing me at the party.
I was terrified that he might not really actually like me, and just as terrified that he might. I had no idea how to talk to a boy I liked. Was I supposed to flirt with him and pretend to be confident? It was far more likely I would sit in a corner and hope he’d come and talk to me. I just prayed I wouldn’t completely humiliate myself by being totally unable to say anything remotely intelligent.
But it didn’t matter, the important thing was that at long last there was a boy who liked me, and I was going to see him at the party.
I did a private happy dance when I got home, and then rushed to ask my dad if we could forget about my big birthday dinner.
Halloween is also my birthday, and this year is my Sweet Sixteen. Dad was going to lay on a “family dinner”, which was nice of him but I don’t actually like my so-called family.
By that I mean my dad’s girlfriend and her son.
My mum died when I was five. I don’t remember her that much, but it meant my dad and I were pretty close as I was growing up. So you can imagine how much I resented it when he starting to date again two years ago. Not only did his new girlfriend move into our house, but she brought her son with her: an immature pain in the bum called Duncan, who is only six months younger than me and is now in my class at school.
Dad’s forever telling me I have to make sure Duncan’s included in stuff I do out of school, but I hate having him follow me around, and I was relieved when he found his own group of idiots to hang with. Unfortunately it seemed they were also invited to the party.
Dad was disappointed about the family dinner but understood that I would rather go to a party.
“Maybe we can all get together beforehand and then you kids could go out after?” he suggested.
Personally I had intended to spend most of the early evening getting ready for the party, so I came up with an alternative.
“How about we have the family dinner on Sunday night instead? That way I can celebrate my sixteenth two nights running.” I gave him an enthusiastic smile and he agreed, actually believing I wanted the family dinner. So we were all happy.
“By the way,” he’d added, “your aunt called and said to remind you to go see her after school on Friday. She’s invited you to stay for dinner. She said to tell you not to forget.”
So school was finally over for the week, we had a party to look forward to tomorrow night, Sean Carrey was going to be there, and I was hoping for some decent money from my relatives for my sixteenth. Everything seemed good with the world.
I separated from Bryony and Kate at the corner of Milton Place and went to see my Aunt Iris.
Everyone in town knows Iris is a witch. Not the kind that rides around on a broomstick in a black hat, but the kind that burns incense and wears a lot of pagan jewellery. She doesn’t make any secret of being a witch. In fact, she says it’s good for business. She runs one of those shops that sells a lot of witchy paraphernalia. Books, coloured candles, silver pentagrams and crystal balls, all that sort of stuff.
Iris is my mother’s sister, the only family I have left on that side, so we’re pretty close. I’d secretly always hoped that she and my dad would fall in love, but they don’t really get on. Mainly because of the witch thing, I think.
The bell tinkled over the door as I entered her shop and her cat, Lyra, jumped down off the windowsill to greet me. Lyra is generally quite unfriendly to most people, but she loves me, and twined around my legs purring hello.
I bent to stroke her, enjoying the dim light of the shop and its wonderful smells.
Iris came round from behind the counter and gave me a warm hug.
“Thank the goddess you’re here at last,” she said.
“I only finished school twenty minutes ago.”
“I know, I’m just eager to see you.” She walked over to the door and flipped the sign from Open to Closed, then locked the door.
“Aren’t you supposed to be open until five?” I asked, confused.
She nodded. “Yes, but it’s a quiet day, and you and I really need to talk undisturbed.”
“That sounds ominous,” I said in surprise.
She gave a strained laugh. “It’s not ‘ominous’, no, but it is important.”
We went upstairs to the flat she lived in over the shop.
Considering how important whatever it was she wanted to talk about apparently was, she took a very long time to get to the point. First we sat out on her roof terrace and drank nettle tea, while she asked me a bunch of questions about school. Then, when it got too cold, we went inside and carved pumpkins together while she told me lots of spooky Halloween stories. It wasn’t until she’d made dinner and we sat down at her old oak table that she cleared her throat and said she had something to tell me.
I twirled spaghetti around my fork and tried to look interested, even though I was actually focusing on not getting tomato sauce on my clothes.
“You’re sixteen tonight,” she said, a bit overdramatically.
“No,” I corrected her, “my birthday is tomorrow. You know that.”
She shook her head, “You officially turn sixteen tonight at midnight. There are things you should know before it happens.”
“If this is about sex, then Dad already gave me the talk; it was embarrassing enough the first time, please don’t make me sit through it again!” I begged her.
She laughed, “It’s not about sex.”
“Well, that’s a relief anyway. What else should I know?”
“You should know about your powers. I think they’re going to be quite strong, and so you mustn’t do anything stupid.”
I looked at her in disbelief. “Powers?”
She nodded impatiently, “Yes, your magic powers. You do realise you are a witch?”