Read Online Once a Witch by Carolyn MacCullough - Free Book Online

as they both study the page and then me so intently that I want to sink through the floor.
    “Not your fault,” Gabriel says at last.
    “Take it from me, Tarn's pretty hard to pin down on paper.”
    “You're right,” Agatha says as if that's the most profound thing she's heard all day. Just in time I remind myself it's probably not all that attractive to snort. Her gaze snags on the yellow flyer, now on my desk.
    “What's this?”
    “That's my show. You should come.
    “Agatha nods enthusiastically. Like me, she loves checking out bands on the weekends.
    “Where?”
    “Silver Tree.”
    “Awesome. Our fake IDs work there” She drinks more of her Coke, sets the can on her desk, and rummages around for a few minutes.
    “Where did I put my freaking charcoals?”
    “They're probably in your closet. On the top shelf,” Gabriel says helpfully. Agatha gives him a dubious look but walks over to her closet anyway, reaching for the top shelf. Then she whirlsaround, charcoal set in hand, her eyes wide and wondering.
    “How did you know that?” Gabriel shrugs.
    “Uh… it's where I like to keep all my important stuff. In the closet.”
    “Thanks for stopping by,” I say brightly, pinning the flyer to the cluttered square of corkboard over my desk.
    “So you're coming next weekend?” I nod. I really wish that I could come up with something witty right about now, but he doesn't give me time.
    “Great to meet you,” he tells Agatha before winking at me and walking out the door.
    “Does that mean he's gay?” Agatha muses after we hear the hallway door close. I choke on my soda.
    “That closet comment he made,” she prompts when I stare at her.
    “I don't think so,” I gasp, my nose tingling sharply. Agatha whacks me on the back.
    “Good, because he is hot. Hot with three t's.” I settle back down onto the beanbag, arranging my legs in a more comfortable position.
    “You think so?” I say neutrally after a minute. The soda tab snaps off the top of the Coke can. The metal is now warm from my hand.
    “Don't you?”
    “He's okay,” I say. Agatha gives me a wry look over the top of her sketchpad.
    “And he's totally in love with you.”
    “What?” I sit upright.
    “Be still,” Agatha says, lifting her pencil. She's smiling. ”But you don't–”She rolls her eyes, tapping her pencil on the page.
    “It's obvious, stupid.” I lean back, trying to digest this information, trying to figure out how I feel. Then I shake my head.
    “He's a friend of the family.
    “Agatha frowns at me.
    “So what?” How can I explain to Agatha that for me that's something to be avoided at all costs? That falling for Gabriel would really torch any hope of escaping from the seriously suffocating arms of my family. I roll the soda tab between my fingers.
    “Not my type.”
    “Hmm,” Agatha says, studying my face a little too long.
    “Try not to move so much this time.” I sigh inwardly, relieved that she's off the topic of Gabriel. But then she adds,
    “And stop blushing, too.”

SIX
    BY THE TIME Gabriel's show comes around a week later, I feel ready for a break from school. Agatha and I have been quizzing each other relentlessly on SAT vocab words every night before bed. Consequently, I dream of opening up a test booklet full of words that I've never seen before. And every day more and more college catalogs arrive at the downstairs front desk for us to look at.
    Agatha keeps mentioning Reed and Stanford and the University of San Diego. I don't have the heart to tell her that my parents will never let me leave the state, let alone go across the country. We spend our usual amount of time getting ready. Me: ten minutes. Agatha: going on an hour as she tries on and discards every shirt in her closet before moving over to mine.
    “That looks great,” I say for the fourth time, my head bent over my copy of The Tempest.
    “Am I getting fat?” Agatha moans, standing before the full-length mirror that we glued to the back of