Page 37 of Rituals & Rivalry

“No. Not quite voices. What about the dreams?” For some reason, I need him to experience these things. It can’t just be me. I peer up at him hopefully, the way I have so many times before.

For what feels like the first time, Luke lets me down.

“No. My dreams have been pretty normal, I think. Should we tell Mom about this? She’d want to know.”

“No,” I blurt, shaking my head. “Sterling has the dreams, too. About the house.”

He blinks. “He doesn’t even live here.”

“I know, but…” I inhale deeply and shut my eyes. “It’s normal. Trust me. I’m fine.”

Why am I using Sterling Poole as an example of normalcy? Maybe because I’m anything but my usual self right now. As time ticks by, my heart is heavier and heavier. I stare at the pizza box, considering getting started without the others.

We wait.

And wait.

By the time Mom joins, the pizza is cold.

None of the chatter we used to fill the house with enters the kitchen now. The home weeps—a sound apparently only I can hear.

Leo never joins. He doesn’t text. He doesn’t call. He’s just not with us. The only reason I know he’s alive is that he drags his feet into the house late into the evening, climbs the rickety stairs up to the attic, and slams the door.

Farrah has been good about inviting me places, and I can tell she doesn’t want me to feel lonely here. It’s a good distraction from my family—from the fact that we’ve been quietly falling apart for three years, and it took living together for me to notice.

So, even though my magic is useless, I accept the invitation when she sends it.

Farrah

Want to visit the crossroads with us?

I’m not exactly a crossroads witch, but sure. Why not?

Crossroads can be things like graveyards, but that isn’t where the group—Farrah, Dave, and Scarlet—lead me. We hike on a trail well after dark, when the crescent moon is high in the sky. Even though this isn’t my type of magic, being under the night sky is calming.

When’s the last time I hiked? We all used to camp as a family, but when Dad left…

He took so much with us.

“Sterling would usually be here,” Farrah says, watching me from the corner of her eye as we hike. “But he couldn’t make it.”

I work hard to keep my face impassive. He’s not here because of me, I’m sure, but that’s none of my business. If he wants to miss out on the dirt because of his one-sided grudges, that’s his problem.

“What am I looking for again?” I chirp, grounding myself into their chattering and stomping for a welcome distraction. A change of subject, hopefully.

“We’re here for dirt,” Scarlet says. “Rusty nails, if you can find them.”

Usually used in baneful magic, but I don’t judge.

“Any flowers,” Dave says, pointing off in the distance. “Blackberries—there are a few bushes that way. Not for magic, I just like them. Hopefully, the neighborhood kids didn’t steal them all.”

I shine my flashlight, looking for flowers amid the twigs and rotting leaves. “And why are we doing this at night?”

“The vibes,” Farrah sings. “Isn’t it so spooky?”

Considering that I live in a haunted house, my spook-meter may be a little harder to ping off than most people’s. It is dark out here, and abandoned, unlike the sunny, friendly Starbrook I’ve come to know. The air smells of dirt and rain, and the clouds are so thick that not even the stars can guide the way.

“What does a love witch know about spooky?” Scarlet snorts and drops to her knees, digging into the dirt.