Page 71 of These Witches Don't Burn
“I still can’t believe your parents are letting you out of the house when they know about the Witch Hunter.” Gemma adjusts her hold on her crutches and stands up, hopping a bit to balance on her good leg. “My parents almost didn’t let me come over today, and they think the car thing was a freak accident.”
“Actually, my mom doesn’t know I’m going on a date. She had to take her students to Boston this morning as part of their art history class.” Besides, I’m guessing Gemma’s parents were hesitant because of more than just the crash. “But Dad still feels guilty about not believing me when I first thought something was wrong, so he was easy enough to convince.”
It doesn’t hurt that he’s working from home today anyway, so he had no excuse to keep me from borrowing his car.
“Speaking of parents...” Gemma stares at the floor, leaning heavily on her crutches. “I’m really sorry about mine. I should have said something to them sooner. I honestly thought they’d get over it.”
“It’s fine,” I say, though I can’t count the number of times I wished Gem would say something over the past year. “I didn’t think you even noticed.”
“Of course I noticed, Han. I hate that they pulled all that crap, and I hate that I didn’t call them out sooner. I should have said something the first time they changed the sleepover rules. But I promise, I’m going to keep a close eye on them. I don’t want you to feel unwelcome at my house.”
“I’m not sure that’ll ever go away completely.” I reach forGemma’s hand and squeeze tight. “But I appreciate you looking out for me.”
Gemma releases me and glances at her phone. “Okay, enough about my parents. Let’s get you to your date!”
The drive to Gemma’s house is filled end-to-end with advice for my date. She makes me promise to text her with updates the second it’s over and wishes me luck as she slips out of the car. I catch her mom watching us from their front window, but I’m not going to let her put a damper on my day. Yet without Gemma’s company, doubt creeps in and my limbs buzz with nervous energy as I make the journey to Morgan’s place. My stupid palms get sweaty and slip on the steering wheel. Pre-date jitters turn my insides into a battleground. I feel like I might simultaneously throw up and pass out.
My phone’s GPS guides me to a two-story ranch with gray-blue siding and bright-white trim. ASOLDsign still marks the yard. I pull into the driveway and sit with the engine running, trying to decide whether I should text Morgan that I’m here or knock on the door.
Before I can decide, a text comes through from Benton.
BH:No updates about the fire. The police asked if I had any leads, so I told them about Nolan. I hope that’s okay.
I updated Detective Archer last night anyway, but before I can reply and reassure Benton that I’m fine, a second text comes through.
BH:Have fun on your date!
Microscopic butterflies flutter in my veins, and I send Benton a quick thank-you and a promise to meet tomorrow, as the front door swings open. Morgan sticks her head out and waves me inside. I cut the engine and unbuckle my seat belt.Just breathe, I remind myself, pushing away all thoughts of Hunters and detectives and car crashes. I won’t let any of it ruin today.
Morgan is waiting inside the foyer when I reach the front door. A shy smile tugs at her lips. “I’m normally the person who yells at people for this, but I still need a couple minutes to get ready.”
I follow her into the house. Boxes in various stages of unpacking line the walls. The dining room table holds what looks like their entire collection of pots, pans, and plates. “What’s left? You look really cute.” Her hair is pulled up in a ponytail, her red curls swinging against her shoulders. She wears denim shorts and a green sleeveless shirt that has a built-in belt around the waist. I wonder if that’s what Gemma means bystructure.
Morgan’s cheeks flush, and she motions for me to follow her. “I haven’t unpacked all my shoes yet. I have this great pair of hiking boots, but I can’t find them. I just need another minute or two, promise. You can wait in here.” She leads me through the house and up the stairs to her bedroom, depositing me in front of her desk while she disappears into her walk-in closet, which is crammed full with cardboard boxes.
Despite the state of her closet, Morgan’s personality is already climbing over the walls. She’s definitely neater than I am. Her bed is made—mine almost never is—complete with little throw pillows in blues and purples. She has a collage of pictures pinned above her desk, her surrounded by friends in matching outfits.Costumes, I realize. They must be her dance friends fromDuluth. I bet she misses them. I doubt messages and video calls make up for being forced to move right before senior year.
The focal point of the room is a pair of six-foot bookcases filled to bursting with novels. She’s arranged them by color, and the rainbow effect seems fitting. I scan the titles and find a lot of my favorites. She even has books about fictional elementals, stories I’ve read and secretly loved even though the magic inside is nothing like the truth of my Clan.
I find more books on Morgan’s desk. The one on top is a slim pink book with...
Wait. Are those girls kissing on the cover?
“Adler’s books are great. Have you read any?” Morgan emerges from the closet with the elusive pair of brown hiking boots.
I shake my head and pick up the book. “Is this about lesbians?”
Morgan nods. “Well, one of the main characters figures out she’s a lesbian, but her love interest is bisexual. The other main character is this totally hilarious, foul-mouthed rich boy. You could borrow it if you want.”
“Is it any good?”
“So. Good.” Morgan takes the book from my hands and flips through to a couple of earmarked pages. I stifle a cringe.Who tabs book pages?“It’s so much fun. There’s kissing and... other stuff.”
Morgan’s face flames bright red, and my cheeks burn in response, my brain happy to fill in saidotherstuffwith ideas of my own. I push the thoughts away. This is so not second-date conversation.
“Anyway.” She passes the book back to me. “You should check it out and let me know what you think.”
I take the book from her, our fingers brushing, which sendsa little thrill down my spine. “I will.” I trace the book’s cover with my thumb. “Are you ready to go?”
