Chapter 12

Witch Game II

The feeling of leaning in stays with me until I’m on the bus. Abby and Mia are in the seat behind me, loudly discussing who they think is the real witch in English class. They haven’t said my name, but it’s clear to me and everyone else that they’re talking about me.

Abby practically yells, “I mean, it runs in her family.”

“And we all know what she did to poor Nathan,” Mia says.

My gut churns when I hear his name. They always blame me for Nathan transferring to Wellburn Academy.

I pull up my hood and try to let the rumble of the bus drown out their voices, but the threat of tears prickles my eyes. When the bus gets to school, I run straight to the nearest bathroom to splash water on my face. Once my hands stop shaking, I head out to face yet another torturous day.

I survive by retreating into my bubble, focusing on my classes and doing my best to ignore everything else. Daya is nowhere to be seen all day, again missing from lunch, so I don’t get a chance to apologize about the art show. I hope she’s not mad at me for standing her up. Is there a single thing in my life I’m not screwing up?

Abby and Mia spend lunch talking in low voices to Gabrielle. From what little I catch, it seems Gabrielle has some boy drama going on. At least it distracts them from torturing me, though I have little appetite for my sandwich.

The bubble stays intact all the way until English class where the witch trial commences. Mr. Juno sits at his desk, a judge presiding over his courtroom.

Once everyone settles, he asks Abby, Mia, and Jacob—the unaccused magistrates—who they would like to interrogate first. Jacob starts by calling on Hannah. With a tomato-red face, she declines to testify, so the magistrates move on to Anthony.

Abby asks him a series of questions, nothing interesting until she hits him with her final one. “Mr. Rodriguez, in your time questioning your peers was there anyone who jumped out as a likely suspect as the witch?”

An unnatural hush falls over the room, or maybe it’s just the rush of blood inside my head.

Anthony looks to Mr. Juno. “Should I answer that?”

Mr. Juno gives a thoughtful glance around the room, and I swear his gaze lingers on me a moment longer than anyone else. “In today’s court, that question would likely be objected to as speculation.” He gets up and writes “speculation” on the board. “That means the witness doesn’t know the answer as fact and is merely guessing at it. As we’ve discussed, there were no defense lawyers during the witch trials. There were also no laws against speculating. So, yes, you may answer the question.”

When Anthony hesitates, Mr. Juno adds, “You don’t have to, but keep in mind you’re on trial for your life and not answering may have consequences for you.” He may as well have dared Anthony to accuse me of witchcraft.

Abby’s face is serious when she asks, “Mr. Rodriguez, who do you think is the witch?”

This time Anthony doesn’t hesitate. “It’s Liza. I think she’s the witch.”

He’s dismissed. With a wicked smile, Abby calls me to the stand. My armpits are sweaty, like I’ve been tending a boiling cauldron all day long.

It’s Mia who comes to stand at the front of the classroom to do the interrogation, which is not entirely surprising given Abby’s ability to get others to do her dirty work. I’m glad I didn’t eat much at lunch because I would be having a hard time keeping it down.

Mia paces in front of the class like a lawyer in one of those courtroom drama shows. She stops right in front of me. “The other day, you asked Mr. Rodriguez if he wished harm upon anyone in the class.”

It’s not a question, so I keep my mouth shut.

In face of my silence, Mia looks to Abby, who hisses, “Ask a question.”

“Right.” Mia focuses on me again. “Why would you ask Mr. Rodriguez that? Do you want to harm someone in this class?”

I bite my bottom lip. I find Abby’s face among my classmates, her cold gaze on me. That self-satisfied smile is enough for me to want to tell the truth.

“No,” I lie. “I don’t care enough about anyone in this class to wish them harm.”

Mia gasps and the smile falls off Abby’s face. I breathe in through my nose and try to keep the pounding in my chest from showing. Abby will make me pay for saying that, but right now all I want to do is hurt her as badly as she’s been hurting me every day since school started.

Abby stomps to the front of the room like a raging bull charging a red cape. “My turn.”

A pale Mia stumbles back to her seat. Abby faces the classroom, but her question is for me. “Ms. Baldwin, did you give Nathan Houston a love potion the night of my birthday party?”

This question is met with an outpouring of whispers. One of the boys in the back lets out a low, long whistle. Abby smirks at the class, and I look down at my feet to try and keep the tears at bay.

It took that awful night with Nathan for me to realize I couldn’t be friends with Abby anymore. For too long, I had gone along with piling on whoever happened to be Abby’s target. Sometimes she’d go as far as attacking someone in our friend group, like when she forced Gabrielle to stop going by Gabby because it was too similar to Abby.

I’m about to open my mouth and finally confess my own role in Nathan’s departure from school, exposing Abby’s part as well, when Mr. Juno bangs a gavel.

He’s really taking this whole trial thing seriously. “Okay, let’s settle down. Though it was common back in Salem for accusations to spread to other members of the community, our goal is to find the person in this classroom who was designated the witch. Let’s stick to the people who are here.”

Abby spins on one foot and smiles at the teacher. “You got it, Mr. Juno. I have one final question. Liza—” it seems she has abandoned the courtesy of addressing me as Ms. Baldwin “—is there anything you have to say for yourself to convince your classmates you aren’t the witch?”

I have trouble getting any words out of my mouth, so I settle for a weak “no.”

Even if my paper hadn’t dubbed me the witch, I would deserve to be prosecuted as one. Abby may have been the head of our coven of awfulness, but I was a proud member, always going along with her. That makes me as bad as Abby. None of us are innocent.