I slide into the navy blue pleather bus seat, and Jaxon slides in after me. Everyone talks excitedly as they arrange themselves in pairs. A field trip on a Friday—what could be better? It takes more than a few tries for Mr. Wardwell to get a word in.
When the class is somewhat settled, the bus lurches forward. I touch the small bandage on the right side of my forehead.
“Does it hurt?” Jaxon asks.
I pull out my strawberry lip gloss and put it on. “Not really. More humiliating than painful.”
“Everyone’s saying Lizzie cast some spell on you and that you literally flew across the hall, smashing into the lockers. So, basically, Salem’s crazy, which we already knew.” He offers me a butterscotch candy and I decline.
I agree that it sounds nuts, and a week ago I would’ve laughed. But I can’t deny that every time I get near her, weird things happen. “I sorta had an epic fall.”
“Yeah, I’m not gonna lie, that was some bad luck.”
“Story of my life.”
“Seriously, though, I’ve seen the Descendants gang up on people before. Don’t worry; they lose interest. They just get off on people thinking they know magic. You’re the perfect target for that.”
“Maybe. It’s just that the stuff with my house freaks me out,” I say before I catch myself. I’m just starting to accept this friend thing, but I’m not ready to tell him about the rock or what happened last night. I haven’t even figured it out myself yet. And it all makes me sound nuts.
Jaxon’s smile disappears. “What stuff with your house?”
“Okay, everyone,” Mr. Wardwell says from the front of the bus. “We are pulling into Gallows Hill Park. And before we get out, I want to make one thing clear: You must stay in the designated areas. If you don’t, you’ll spend the entire field trip on this bus.”
He ushers us out of our seats and into the parking lot.
“What stuff with your house?” Jaxon repeats as we walk onto the circular grassy field surrounded by small hills and bushy trees.
I glance at Lizzie and John in the front of the group. “I’ll explain later.”
“As all of you know,” says Mr. Wardwell, “when citizens of Salem were convicted of witchcraft in 1692, they were sentenced to hang. Witchcraft was a capital crime, and people believed that if they killed the individuals practicing it, they could keep the devil from taking root in their communities.
“The court set group hanging dates, and Sheriff Corwin was charged with picking the execution site. He was instructed that it must be outside the town limits. This location at the time was outside Salem proper, believe it or not. On their assigned hanging day, the convicted witches were bound with their hands behind their backs, placed in the back of carts, and pulled up this hill to my left. Shall we go up?”
We follow him onto a dirt trail and up a hill covered in tall trees. The path gets steeper, and my breath quickens. Through the branches to my right, the dark-haired guy watches me. I stop so fast, I almost lose my balance. A surprised yelp escapes my lips before I steady myself.
“They’re just trying to mess with your head. Don’t let it get to you,” Jaxon says, kicking the ground. I shift my gaze to our feet and to the last bit of a stick drawing in the dirt of someone hanging. Mather is written above it before Jaxon destroys it all with his shoe. He obviously thinks it was Lizzie and John. Maybe it was.
I look back to the trees, but the dark-haired guy’s gone. Did I actually see him, or am I so on edge that my mind’s playing tricks on me?
“Keep up, everyone!” Mr. Wardwell bellows.
After another minute of climbing a practically vertical trail, we come out on the top of the hill. How did a cart get up here, much less one carrying people?
“This is the exact spot where the convicted witches were hanged,” Mr. Wardwell says and scans our group. “Bridget Bishop, Sarah Good, Samuel Wardwell, and many more.”
I lean toward Jaxon and whisper, “Wait, Mr. Wardwell is descended from a witch?” No wonder he doesn’t like me.
Jaxon shakes his head. “I think his name is just a coincidence. There was some scandal about it years ago, but I don’t really remember.”
Mr. Wardwell looks pointedly at me and Jaxon, and we pretend we weren’t talking. “Don’t let the name of this park fool you. They didn’t use gallows in the late sixteen hundreds. Instead, they threw a rope over a high tree branch. The convicted would stand on the back of the cart with nooses around their necks and the cart would roll away.”
That’s disgusting.
“I’m going to give you all time to look around. Don’t wander off this hill. We’ll meet back here in ten minutes.”
Jaxon grabs my hand. It’s warm and feels solid against my own. Heat shoots up my arm and into my cheeks. We follow a small offshoot of the trail to the left and into a patch of trees.
“It’s kinda creepy to think about this stuff,” I say, trying to pull my attention from his thumb gently rubbing against the back of my hand.
Jaxon shrugs. “I don’t even notice it anymore. I’ve been hearing it my whole life.”
Jaxon stops and leans his back against a tree. My hand slips out of his. “So, now tell me what happened in your house.”
Me and my big mouth. “A rock came through my bedroom window with the word DIE scratched into it.” Between the sighting, the drawing, and Jaxon’s hand, I’m too frazzled to argue about not telling him.
Jaxon’s face hardens. “Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I mean, what were you going to do about it?”
“Help you find the people who did it and beat their asses.” He says this like it’s obvious.
Even if one of them might be a figment of my imagination? “I don’t know.”
“Is that it?” he presses. “Was there anything else that happened?”
I bite my lip and look down.
“You’re obviously not telling me something.”
“I’m just not good at trusting people, or telling people my problems, or talking in general. Really, the list goes on,” I say. Little does he know that this is the most I’ve opened up in years.
“Try.”
“I wasn’t kidding when I said people get hurt around me.”
“I’m willing to take that chance.”
Are you? “You might think I’m crazy.”
“I already do.”
I smile. “It’s not your problem, though.”
“Don’t you get it?”
“Get what?”
His face softens. “That I like you.” He pulls me close to him and my stomach bottoms out. He puts his hands on my hips, and I can feel his fingers guide me.
I place my hands on his chest, trying to concentrate. My body’s acting like a lost, manic hummingbird. “It’s kinda weird.”
“I still wanna know.”
My thoughts are too cloudy to protest. “Fine. You win. I’ll tell you.”
He smiles. “If I was winning, you’d be kissing me right now.” He leans close, and his breath is warm on my face. I consider walking away, but my body won’t budge. In fact, it’s betraying me by moving closer to him. His lips lightly graze mine.
“You taste like strawberries,” he says.
His lips press into mine again, only not so softly this time, and everything inside me lights up. He pulls me closer, and I open my mouth.
“Best to leave the letters out of it,” a voice says next to me.
I push off Jaxon’s chest so hard and so fast that I slam him into the tree he’s leaning against. The dark-haired guy stands next to us. I shake my head, hoping he’ll disappear.
“I’m sorry, I just thought…,” Jaxon says.
“He cannot see me,” the dark-haired guy says, as calm as ever.
I look wide-eyed at Jaxon. He doesn’t even glance toward the guy standing a foot away from us. Ghost. This is just bad. I’m so embarrassed, that I’m angry.
“You need to go away, now,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Shit. Sorry,” Jaxon says. “But you did kiss me back.”
The dark-haired guy raises an eyebrow and turns back into the trees. I stand there for a few seconds, trying to make sense of what just happened. He just ruined my first kiss. “Not you. I didn’t mean you should go away.”
“Well, you said it.”
“Ten minutes is just about up!” Mr. Wardwell yells.
I can’t do this. It’s all too much. From friends to kissing in one day, and now this dead guy who’s stalking me. I’ll figure out all this stuff about a family curse by myself. I don’t need anyone’s help. “Jaxon, seriously. I’m not good for anyone. I’m not so sure I’m not cursed.” My bottom lip trembles. I turn away and walk toward the class.
Jaxon grabs my arm. “I don’t believe in curses.”
I brush him off and keep walking. “Just stay away from me before I get you hurt, too.” I wish I could crawl in a hole and disappear.
“I don’t want to stay away from you,” he says.
“Well, I want you to.” I fight back tears as I rejoin the group.
“Great, you’re all here! Quiet down, everyone. Now, did you all know that it can take more than an hour to die by hanging?” Mr. Wardwell asks cheerfully.