I slow my pace in the hallway to leave no time for Jaxon to talk to me before class. It’s only my third day, and no one will make eye contact with me. Where I’d normally have to squeeze between people, they just step out of my way. It’s not like how they move out of respect for the Descendants; it’s like they’re afraid to touch me. I overhear snippets of conversations about my library fiasco, which is already common knowledge.
The bell rings as I reach AP History, and I try to ignore the tightness in my chest. I steel my face and open the door. Wardwell gives me a disapproving look but can’t say anything since I’m technically on time.
I take my seat next to Jaxon but keep my gaze straight ahead.
“We’ll begin with your paper assignment.” Mr. Wardwell wears a tweed blazer with suede elbow patches.
“Sam?” Jaxon whispers. I ignore him, and the tightness spreads.
“Jaxon,” says Mr. Wardwell, “if you’re so eager to talk in my class, then maybe you’d like to tell me your paper topic.”
“Sure.” Jaxon isn’t fazed. “I’m working with Sam, and we’re doing our paper on the location of the witch hangings.” He leaves out the bit where we think the current location is wrong.
The pretty girl who saved Jaxon a seat the other day doesn’t turn around to look at us, but everyone else does. Don’t worry, I think in the pretty girl’s direction, you can have him.
“Wonderful choice.” Wardwell nods. “We’re visiting Gallows Hill Park on Friday. You can do some research then.”
I raise my hand, and Mr. Wardwell nods. “Yes?”
“Can I do the paper by myself?”
“No. It’s a group assignment.” He moves on to another student, and Jaxon stares at me. I don’t dare look at him or I might cry.
Lizzie turns toward me from a few rows up, her hair hiding her awful smile from Mr. Wardwell. Behind her desk, she pulls out a little handmade doll with MATHER embroidered on it and a noose around its neck. Jaxon grabs my arm, as if to tell me not to react. I shake it off.
John, from the desk next to Lizzie, mouths “cursed” at me.
I freeze. This was the word that tore apart my friendships as a child. It started not that long after my friend Kara fell into the lion’s cage at my seventh birthday party.
“She’s not well enough to see you,” Kara’s mother said, holding the door only halfway open.
“We’ll come back in a couple of days,” my dad said, and put his hand on my shoulder.
“Sam?” Kara’s voice came from down the hallway.
“I’m so sorry, Kara!” I yelled, trying to peer around her mother. I didn’t know what I was apologizing for, but I knew I was sorry.
As Kara reached the door, her mother yanked her backward. “Kara, you’re not going to be seeing Sam anymore. They were just leaving.”
My eyes began to fill with tears, and my dad stiffened next to me. “Of course you’re upset about what happened. But it’s not Sam’s fault. Keeping the girls apart is an over—”
I reached out for Kara, but her mother blocked me.
The door slammed in my face. I didn’t really understand what it all meant. All I knew was that I didn’t have Kara anymore because there was something wrong with me, and I wasn’t sure I could take that.
John grins at the shocked look on my face. Is there some way they could know about all the bad luck I had when I was a kid? Or is this just some awful coincidence?
“I’m not cursed. And if you say it again, I’ll smack that smile off you!” I yell. The room goes silent and everyone stares.
Mr. Wardwell stands straighter. “Miss Mather, I will not have that kind of threatening outburst in my classroom. If you cannot control yourself, you’ll leave. Is that clear?”
Lizzie tightens the noose around the little doll’s neck.
I clench my fist. “So it’s totally fine that she has some sick voodoo doll with a noose? Are you kidding me? They took my freaking hair the other day!”
Mr. Wardwell looks at Lizzie, but the doll is nowhere in sight.
“Out!” Mr. Wardwell points toward the door. I yank my bag up and storm off.
“Mr. Wardwell,” Jaxon says, “it’s not—”
“I don’t want to hear it, Jaxon.” Mr. Wardwell follows me into the hallway.
“I want you to go into that room there.” Mr. Wardwell shakes his finger at me. “And calm yourself down. I’ll be in to talk to you when I’m ready.”
I cross the hall, enter the empty classroom, and throw my bag on the floor. I know I shouldn’t let my temper get the better of me like that, but those Descendants are completely insane. Who does that? I don’t believe in witchcraft or whatever that crap was, but still. And was Jaxon defending me? I don’t need his help. I’ve always been just fine on my own. I don’t know why I got it into my head I might make friends here.
I pace around the room until I wear myself out. I kick the desk near the window before I sit in it. I want my dad back. I need to talk to him. I need to hear that eventually things will get better. Right now everything is so very wrong. And it seems to be slipping further out of my control by the minute. I put my head in my hands, and my hair falls in my face.
My dad knelt down beside me. “It’s not your fault. You know that, right, Sam? That woman is a…She’s scared about what happened to Kara and she wants to blame someone.” He pushed my hair back from my wet cheeks. “You’re one of the most kind and beautiful people I’ve ever known, and I promise you I’ll do everything I can to fix this.”
I nodded. “Okay, Daddy.” But somewhere inside me, I knew things would never be the same.
After some minutes of closing my eyes, my breath slows. When I sit up again, the dark-haired guy I collided with the other day stands just inside the doorway. For a few seconds, we’re both silent.
“You will leave.” His voice is flat, but his face is intense.
“The classroom? I can’t.”
“Salem,” he says, and for the first time I notice that he, too, wears all black.