I stand near the curb outside Salem High, scanning the cars pulling into the pick-up area. Across the street, four of the Descendants walk down the sidewalk. I have to admit that together they have something intriguing about them. They’re hard not to watch.
As they pass, people step out of their way. Everyone follows them with their eyes, though—even me. Then all together, as if on cue, they turn and stare at me. I bite my lower lip and look away.
I feel a small pinch in the back of my head. I whip around to find Alice holding a couple strands of my hair. She raises one golden eyebrow above her dark-framed eyes. What the…?
She walks right past me and into the street, not even acknowledging the cars. Creepy as hell. I take a step off the sidewalk, and the guy with dark hair from the hallway watches me.
Just as I’m about to yell at Alice, Vivian’s car stops with a screech. Alice catches up with the other Descendants, and they continue down the sidewalk.
“Making friends?” Vivian asks as I get in her car.
I guess she didn’t just see Alice pull some of my hair out. “More like enemies.” I really wish I hadn’t snapped at Alice in homeroom.
Vivian speeds away so fast that there’s the scent of burning rubber. “Sam.” Her tone suggests I did something wrong.
“Honestly, it isn’t entirely my fault. They have some creepy witch social order at this school. My last name isn’t helping.” I just want someone to hug me and tell me I’m not awful and it will all blow over, but that’s not Vivian’s way. I need my dad.
“Salem prides itself on its witches. That history is very real to the people who live here.”
“Well, that’s insane.” I can feel the upsets from my day threatening to overtake me.
She sighs. “That attitude won’t help you make friends.” She turns a corner, and I grip the door. “Maybe try to understand it from their perspective.”
“I’m not going to apologize for some dude who wore a curly white wig three hundred years ago and made bad decisions just ’cause we have the same last name.”
“It’s more complicated than that, and being stubborn is only going to make it worse.”
That’s it. Breaking point achieved. “I don’t want your advice.”
Vivian’s grip tightens on the wheel as she slams on the brakes. “Then you’ll get what you get.”
I cross my arms, pulling away from Vivian’s comment and away from her in general as we bounce along our driveway.
I beeline it for the door the second the car stops. When I enter the foyer, the fluffy white couches and big fireplace in the room to the right catch my eye. In all my unpacking yesterday, I didn’t really explore. I lean my bag against the small wooden mail table and head for the hallway to the right of the stairs, happy for something to distract me.
It’s long and lined with doors. Portraits of dead relatives hang on the walls. I can imagine them walking down here with only a candle. I peek inside the fireplace room—which is probably the living room. There’s a beautiful old rug, and the coffee table is an antique leather trunk.
The next door in the hall is closed, and I push it open. “Whoa.”
The room is huge, and on the left is a grand piano. There are a couple of seating areas with white antique couches that I can’t imagine sitting on. Crystal decanters containing some sort of drink rest on a silver tray with small crystal glasses. I lift the cover on the piano keys and press an out-of-tune note.
At the far end of the room, between two tall windows, is a painting of a girl about my age. She wears a blue and white silk dress draped with lace and holds a bouquet of yellow flowers. Her expression makes her look at ease, like she knew the artist. I’m intrigued.
Under the painting is a small table with an open book of poetry on it. The pages are yellowed. “ ‘Black-Eyed Susan,’ ” I say, reading the poem title. The flower! Right, that’s what she’s holding. And come to think of it, that’s the kind of flower that’s in my room, too.
Something crashes behind me, and I let out a small scream. I whip around to find the keyboard cover on the piano slammed shut. Not okay. Vivian calls my name and I sprint out of the fancy room, closing the door behind me. My hands shake.
“Yeah?” I reply.
“Door!”
By the time I get back to the foyer, Jaxon’s standing in the middle of it holding a plate of cookies. “Don’t laugh, my mother wanted me to bring these.”
Vivian gives me a look that can only mean “I told you they were nosy” before she turns to leave. I might agree with her, but after the day I had, I’m grateful for anyone in that school who doesn’t think I suck.
I take the offered plate. “I never laugh at cookies.”
“Chocolate chip butterscotch.”
“Seriously? Your mother’s amazing,” I say loudly for Vivian’s benefit.
“Yeah, if you ever get hungry, stop by. My mother kills it in the cooking department. It’s kinda her thing. She grows herbs and all kinds of stuff, even in the winter.”
A strand of sun-kissed hair falls out of place and I stare at it for a second longer than I should. “You wanna stay for a bit? I was just looking around the house.” I can’t remember the last time I invited someone to hang out with me. If my dad were here, he would be grinning foolishly at us, and I would feel super self-conscious. Four months ago, I would have awkwardly avoided eye contact with him. Now I only wish his eyes were here to avoid.
Jaxon pushes the loose hair off his forehead. “Sure.”
I remove the plastic wrap on the plate of cookies, and he follows me down the hallway. “I only made it to the piano room,” I say with a full mouth as we walk past.
I reach for the handle of the next door at the same time he does, and I almost smack him with the half-bitten cookie. He smiles. No one really talked to me in New York, especially not guys who looked like Jaxon. But the way he’s enjoying my awkwardness makes me want to sock him.
He swings the door open to reveal a room covered floor to ceiling with books. Every dark wooden bookshelf is packed, and there are even books on the ground and on the small tables. The only place without books is an old brick fireplace with bare wooden paneling on either side of it. It’s not fancy like the fireplace in the living room, but I like it better.
“A library.” I forget all about hitting Jaxon.
“Every time I saw your grandmother she was in this room.”
“It’s strange you know more about my grandmother than I do.” I put the cookies down on a table.
“Why didn’t you ever come visit her?” Jaxon asks.
I hesitate. I wonder what he knows about my family.
Jaxon’s fingers graze the top of an antique reading table surrounded by plush armchairs. A small cloud of dust rises. “It’s okay if you don’t wanna answer.”
“No, it’s fine. I just don’t really talk about my family that much. I don’t have any other relatives besides my dad and my stepmom.” I can tell by the expression on his face that Jaxon knows what happened to him. “My dad never wanted to come to Salem. So we never came. And he and my grandmother were always fighting, so she never came to the City, either.” I busy myself by looking through a pile of books.
“Charlotte used to talk about you,” Jaxon says.
I put down a book too fast and it slips off the top of the pile, sliding to the floor with a bang. My grandmother talked about me? I didn’t even know she knew anything about me.
We’re silent for a couple of seconds. He doesn’t push the topic, even though I suspect he wants to. I pick up the fallen book and walk to the old fireplace. There are niches built into it, like small brick ovens for pizza. There’s no guard separating it from the rest of the room. The wood floor just ends and the bricks begin.
“I bet this was used for cooking,” I say.
He laughs. “Yeah.”
“That’s funny?”
“I mean, it’s kinda obvious, but then again, you’re a city girl,” he says playfully.
I laugh, happy to be off the topic of my family. “Oh yeah? What do you know about old fireplaces?”
“Well, we’re kinda really into our history around here.”
“Tell me about it. You guys are obsessed with it.”
“And I build furniture,” he continues. “So I pay attention to these things.”
“Really?” My surprise is genuine. I didn’t expect that he did much of anything besides look cool.
“Some of these fireplaces have hooks for hanging kettles and things.” He ducks his head under the arched brick to get a better look. “Found one. Give me your hand.”
I join him under the arch of the fireplace, and he grabs my right palm. His hands are lightly callused and warm. He directs my fingers to the left side of the arch. Crouched next to me this close, he smells like Christmas trees.
“You’re right!” I grab hold of a small iron hook and pull. It moves in my hand.
There is a loud creak and we look at each other. A gust of wind blows past us that smells like old leather and dried flowers. I back out of the fireplace, not entirely convinced bricks won’t fall on my head.
“Holy…,” I say, looking at the wall to the left of the fireplace. Part of the wood paneling has cracked open a few inches, revealing a door. “You have to see this.”
Jaxon stands next to me, eyeing the wall with curiosity. “I heard some of the older houses have these; I’ve just never seen one before.”
“How are you so calm? We just found a secret freaking door!” My volume surprises me.
I run my fingertips over the edges of the door. They match perfectly with the fireplace and the paneling on the wall. No one would ever suspect. I give it a push and it swings open. Behind it, a narrow hallway leads to an equally narrow spiral staircase. The walls inside are made of the same old brick as the fireplace, and the floor has wide wooden boards like the older parts of the house. I practically shake with excitement as I take a step in. If there was one thing I always wanted as a kid, it was to find a secret passageway.
“Sam!” yells Vivian from down the hall.
I jump out of the tiny, intriguing hallway and back into the library, pulling the door behind me.
“Quick, help me.”
Jaxon grabs the edge of the door and pulls. But it won’t close the last inch.
“Sam, you down here?” Vivian’s voice gets closer. I really don’t want her to see this. I haven’t even investigated it yet.
“Take your fingers out a minute,” Jaxon says, reaching into the fireplace. Just as I move my hand, he pushes the hook and the door clicks shut.
“I’ve been calling you.” An annoyed Vivian enters the room. “We have errands to run.”
“Okay.” I try to act like everything’s normal, but I’m pretty sure I’m sweating.
She looks from me to Jaxon, and she notices something’s up. At least there’s no way she could guess it’s a secret door.