I blinked at Eli, since my eyes were the only muscle group in my body not frozen in shock.
“Sorry,” I said, tapping my ear, “but I think river water’s sloshing around in my head. It sounded like you said . . . I’m a witch?”
Eli nodded solemnly. “Aye. You bring me a witch’s ball that can capture people inside—”
“I didn’t say . . .” I broke off, realizing that any explanation would work against me.
“This is an item of magic. You are in possession of said magic. Therefore, you must be a witch!”
I goggled at him. “I told you, I found it! It isn’t mine!”
“Perhaps it were the Devil who led you to it,” he said with a shrug. “And you know who works with the Devil? A witch!” He pointed at me.
“This is ridiculous,” said Mom, wrapping an arm around me. “Shouldn’t you be focusing your attention on finding the owner of the video camera?”
The next words out of Eli’s mouth completely jarred me. In a thick Boston accent, he said, “Look, lady, regardless of who it belongs to, your daughter’s either in the game or she’s not. If she’s in, she has to suffer the consequences.” He held his arms out, as if awaiting our decision.
I separated myself from Mom and stepped forward. “I’m still in the game. What are the consequences?”
“You’ve been found a witch,” said Eli, resuming his colonial voice. “You must stand trial and account for your actions. And so must your mother.”
It was Mom’s turn to drop her jaw. “Me? What did I do?”
Felicity spoke up. “You defended a witch. Only a fellow witch would decry her.” She glanced around at the rest of the family members, as if encouraging them to speak out of turn.
Nobody said a word. And several people took a few steps away from us.
“Thanks for the support,” I muttered. “I can promise I’m not a witch. I don’t have any warts, cats, or flying broomsticks.”
“Reserve your arguments for the trial,” said Eli. “And enjoy your last night of freedom.”
He climbed the slope up to the manor, and everyone followed. I turned to Mom, who gave me a strained smile.
“I hate to say I told you so,” she said.
I shook my head. “Don’t you get it? If we’re accused of witchcraft, they won’t let us stay in the competition.”
Mom shrugged. “So what? At least we had fun. And if you remember your promise to me, you were going to enjoy this experience and not worry about money?”
I gripped her arms. “But, Mom, we’re so close to winning . . . to our troubles being a thing of the past. All we need is a few lucky breaks, but this isn’t one of them!”
I plopped down on the grass. Everything always seemed to be against us. Me and Mom versus the world. Maybe if my dad were still around, he’d know what to do.
“Come on.” Mom grabbed me under the armpits and lifted. “On your feet. We won’t be disqualified. I’ll come up with something.”
I let her help me up. “I just hope it works,” I said with a sigh, and trudged up the hill. Mom let me walk alone.
Halfway to the manor, I met Caleb running down.
“I heard what happened. Are you okay?” he asked.
“Your dad accused me of witchcraft,” I said. “And now I’m standing in front of you in a soggy old dress. I’ve had better days.”
Caleb covered his eyes with a hand. “I’m not even looking.”
I smiled. “You know, I’m pretty sure that if you’re not supposed to be talking to me as a contestant, you definitely shouldn’t be talking to me as a witch.”
“I can just say I came to tell you the time of your trial. It’s right after breakfast, by the way,” said Caleb, “but unfortunately, tomorrow I’ll have to be on the side that’s convinced you’re a witch.” He made a face. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “At least I’ll get one last bowl of gruel.”
We walked in silence for a moment, and I noticed that his steps kept bringing him closer and closer to me.
“Can I give you some advice?” he asked. “My dad has nothing against you personally, but I can tell he’s really excited for this witch trial. The odds aren’t in your favor.”
I frowned. “How very Hunger Games.”
“Come up with a pretend backstory for yourself,” said Caleb. “If you talk about modern times, it’ll just confirm you’re a witch. Play along, and you might get away with just a warning.”
I paused and took his arm so that he was forced to look at me.
“And if I don’t—”
He shook his head. “You can’t think that way.”
“But if I don’t,” I pressed, “my mom and I will have to go home. And home is very far away.”
Caleb stared at the ground. “I know.”
I wanted to hug him, but we were out in the open where anyone could see, and a hug probably wasn’t something you gave a contestant who was on trial for witchcraft. My fingers squeezed his arm instead.
I let my hand drop down by his, and our fingers touched for a fraction of a second before he pulled his away.
Caleb sighed. “Good luck tomorrow. And remember, play the game.”
“Thanks,” I told him, and we parted ways by the back door.
When I got up to the room, Mom was talking to Queenie.
“They don’t burn people at the stake anymore, do they?”
I cleared my throat. “I think the smell of burning hair discourages them.”
Mom smirked at me. “They could shave our heads first, you know.”
I flopped down on the bed. “Maybe we should create back-stories for ourselves. Really get into character for the trial.”
Mom laughed. “You want us to . . .” She paused and then stared out the window. “Maybe that would work.”
“So, I was thinking I could be me but add a few details about what a good person I am.”
“Not too many details,” said Mom, chewing a fingernail. “You want it to be believable.”
Even deep in thought, Mom could insult me.
“And you could be—”
Mom held up a hand. “I have something in mind. Just let me think it through.”
She pulled a chair in front of the window and sat. I watched her for a few minutes and then got up to visit Angel. When I knocked on her bedroom door, however, she barely opened it a crack.
“Listen, Tori, I love you like a cousin—”
“We are cousins,” I interrupted.
“But I can’t be associated with you right now. Not when my family is so close to taking this contest. If people think we’re witches too . . .”
She let the thought trail, and I frowned.
“Seriously? You’re afraid of catching my witchcraft cooties?”
“I knew you’d understand! Love you, bye!” she said, closing the door in my face.
I didn’t even bother knocking on Aunt Zoe and Uncle Deke’s door. I had a feeling I’d get the same response. I went back to our bedroom, where Mom was still sitting in the chair, staring out the window.
“A watched sun never sets,” I told her. “Which would actually work well for us, since the trial’s tomorrow after breakfast.”
Mom just nodded, so I let her be. When it was time for bed, she was finally willing to get up from the chair, but she was still too deep in thought.
“Tomorrow morning,” she said, “I don’t want you to disagree with anything I say.”
I propped myself on my elbows. “Why? What are you going to say?”
Mom shook her head. “Just trust me. I have a plan.”
The next morning, after a breakfast neither of us could eat, we were led to the clearing behind the manor, where rows of benches had been set facing a table with two chairs. Mom and I knew our place and took our seats.
“These chairs came out much nicer than ours,” she said, wiggling her butt in her seat. “I wonder if we can take them when we leave. As souvenirs.”
“ ‘Sorry you turned out to be witches, but here’s some lovely furniture’?” I asked. “Please take this seriously.”
“I am,” said Mom. “But it was giving me forehead wrinkles, so I had to lighten up a bit.” She put a hand on my arm. “Don’t worry. Everything is going to work out.”
The back door creaked open, and the rest of the families came out to fill the seats.
“I hope you’re right,” I said. “Because here come our judge, jury, and executioners.”
Eli, Felicity, and Caleb marched over from their quarters, and Eli’s eyes shone with excitement. He really was going to enjoy this. After a brief introduction, Eli asked Mom and me to introduce ourselves. With a deep breath, I launched into my story.
“My name is Victoria Porter,” I said. “I’m the daughter of a seamstress and a soldier. I take care of wounded animals in the woods—”
Eli was staring at his fingernails, completely ignoring me. I caught Caleb’s eye, and he shrugged.
So much for playing the game.
“And I’m lead singer for a band named Plymouth Rock,” I finished.
Eli strolled in front of our table. “Are you a witch?”
“Nope,” I said, getting up. “That was easy!”
“Sit down,” said Eli. “We are not finished.”
“Oh.” I sat.
Mom leaned over. “You didn’t read up on the Salem witch trials?”
Eli slammed his fists on the table between Mom and me, and we jumped back, startled.
“Conspiring as witches do?” he asked.
“Actually, she was complimenting your beard,” I said. “It’s quite fluffy. Do you volumize?”
Eli narrowed his eyes. “You speak in words well beyond your years. As a witch would.”
“As a well-educated girl would,” I corrected.
“And your tongue is barbed,” he said with a frown. “You show little respect to your elders.”
“Only the ones who deserve it.” I retorted.
“She didn’t show my dad any respect!” Dylan called from his bench. “Burn her at the stake!”
I tugged on Eli’s sleeve and pointed at Dylan. “If I was really a witch? He’d be a smoldering pile of ashes right now.”
Several people gasped.
“Exactly what a witch would say!” whispered Felicity.
I rolled my eyes.
“Exactly what a witch would do!” she whispered.
I sighed and leaned back. “So you think I’m a witch because I found a camera and roll my eyes?”
“And levitate!” someone called from the back.
“Who . . .” I craned my neck to see. A random half-cousin I didn’t even know that well. But she and her family were in fourth place, right behind Mom and me.
“You saw me levitate?” I repeated. “Where’s the proof?”
“I saw Tori levitate too,” said Dylan.
I scowled at him. “I saw you turn into a pig. Why aren’t you on the stand?”
“Silence, witch!” said Eli. He turned to my mother. “What say you?”
Mom folded her hands in front of her and leaned forward. “I say . . . that I am your long-lost sister.” She glanced at Eli’s wife. “Hey, sis!”
Eli blinked in confusion. “What?”
“I am your long-lost sister, and Tori is your long-lost niece.” She gestured to me. “You and your wife planted us in the contest to steal the old bird’s fortune. But yesterday I told you we would no longer help you perform such a vile deed, and you retaliated by accusing us of witchcraft.”
“This . . . this is preposterous!” blustered Eli. He faced his wife, who did not look pleased.
“Why do you think we’ve been winning challenges?” Mom asked the audience. “Because my brother”—she winked at Eli—“helps us. But he can’t let us win all the time, so that’s why we occasionally do so bad.”
The family members began whispering among themselves.
“Do you think it’s true?”
“They are pretty incompetent.”
I couldn’t help feeling mildly insulted.
“This is not about me, it is about you!” Eli pointed at Mom and me. “Your daughter is a witch! She knows of magic!”
“Because you taught her, remember?” said Mom. She looked out at the crowd and rolled her eyes, laughing. “So forgetful.”
Eli’s face was now the color of a sliced watermelon. “We are not related!”
Mom spread her arms open. “Prove it. My accusations are as valid as yours.”
“I . . . you . . . she!” Eli grabbed at his hair.
Mom leaned forward and whispered, “Nobody here knows my side of the family, so my words have weight. Unless you want to mention DNA testing, which didn’t exist in colonial times and would make you look like a witch, drop the accusation or everyone will think you’re cheating and mass chaos will ensue.”
The clearing was completely quiet, as if even the birds were waiting for an answer.
“I may . . . have jumped to conclusions,” Eli said begrudgingly. “It is possible that these two strangers are simple humans.”
“Very simple!” called Dylan.
“Are you looking in a mirror?” I asked.
Mom nudged me into silence. “Then it is possible we are not actually related,” she said.
“This trial is over,” said Eli, shoulders slumping, “and all witchcraft charges are dropped.”
Everyone on the benches applauded.
Now they were supportive.
“Please follow me to the barn for the morning challenge,” he said in a dull tone.
Before I could do that, I had to turn to Mom and throw my arms around her.
“That was brilliant!” I said.
“The best defense is a good offense,” said Mom, hugging me back. “I told you I’d come up with something.”
Angel approached the table with her parents.
“Looks like you live to fight another day!” she said, hugging me.
“Congratulations,” added Aunt Zoe. “I’m not sure if that’s the smartest move I’ve seen or the most foolish.”
Mom and I looked at one another and then at Aunt Zoe.
“What do you mean?”
“I have a feeling you’re going to start finding this contest a lot more difficult,” said Aunt Zoe.
“You personally insulted Eli and his family,” said Uncle Deke. “He’s not going to forget that. Neither will they.”
I swallowed hard.
Caleb.