I went to the car to retrieve my duffel bag full of essentials—clothes; makeup; hair products; the popular girl’s bible, Cosmopolitan; and a few odds and ends. My thinking was that if I could bring some sort of normalcy to our lives then we might not slip into utter depression. Maybe it was denial, but focusing on something else for the meantime made me feel better.
As I walked back toward the house, I noticed that everyone was lined up outside the front door like it was a run-through at the beginning of a football game. Except no one would be cheering for me.
God, I missed cheer.
Especially because the squad was performing the routine we’d been practicing for weeks at the upcoming game. During one of our many stops along the way, I’d called my coach to let them know there’d been a family emergency and I’d be out for a while.
Knowing that I was letting down my squad made me feel horrible. But given the situation, I couldn’t see any way around it. It’s not like I could put my life, and the lives of the rest of the coven, in jeopardy just so I could cheer on our starting lineup. I texted Trish, Bethany, and Sofia to let them know as well, and kept things just as vague. Beth and Sofia asked if I was okay, while Trish asked if she could fill in for me as captain. I agreed, although it hurt to give up my position.
But I was clear with Trisha: my hiatus wouldn’t last forever.
“Lead the way,” Sascha said, motioning to the door in front of us. Her arms were full of bags, pillows, blankets, and food—all things we’d picked up along the way. I decided it was a bad idea to go back to everyone’s houses to get their things, so we’d gone on an impromptu shopping spree at a Target after safely fleeing town. There was no telling how long we’d be gone and people needed the basic necessities. We used the credit card my parents had given me for emergencies, since I figured they would’ve agreed that this was one. As Jasmine shifted under the weight of her bags, I shuffled forward to let us inside.
“Hand me the keys and I’ll open her up,” Fallon said, stepping in front of me and holding out his hand.
“I don’t have keys,” I said.
“Are you kidding me? Then why did we come here?” he asked me with a sneer. Then he got an evil look in his eyes and said excitedly, “Do we get to break some windows?”
“No, dunce. We don’t need keys to get in,” I said, placing my hand up in front of me, fingertips just inches away from the door.
For as long as I’d been coming here, our doors had never been locked in the traditional sense. No lock. No key. No worries. My parents explained to me that the cabin’s inhabitants had always had a unique way of coming and going. We used our own magical distinctiveness to gain access to the house.
See, a person’s magic has its own kind of identity. Sort of like magical DNA. And our cabin was effectively closed to those who didn’t share our lineage. In a way it was nice. I never had to worry about losing my keys.
I closed my eyes and concentrated on letting my powers flow through my fingertips and penetrate the invisible barrier that was surrounding the house. Within seconds, I could feel it disappear, and then I reached out and turned the knob.
“Home sweet home,” I said as I stepped inside, smelling the familiar scent of my family’s cabin.
I wandered into the living room just off to my left. Everyone else piled in after me, going off to explore the house. “You can take any room except for the one at the end of the hall upstairs,” I said, still checking to see if anything had changed since I’d last been there.
“The princess doesn’t want the peasants staying in her room?” Fallon asked sarcastically from the hallway behind me.
“That room was my parents’,” I said, shooting him a look. That was all I had to say to shut him up, and I appreciated the silence that followed. “Like I said, you can have any room except for that one. Linens and blankets are in the closet near the bathroom and the couch pulls out into a bed. ”
I walked around the living room, running my hand across various objects as I rediscovered my family’s old vacation house. The sofa had the same soft feel I always loved as a kid. Now I realized that the microfiber was a pretty common fabric, but back then, I used to call it “the marshmallow couch” because it was so soft.
Then I made my way over to the fireplace, where we used to pile up on the floor on chilly nights. When I was old enough to carry in the firewood, it became my job to add logs before the embers burned out. I took the responsibility very seriously and never once let the fire get too low. It wasn’t exactly cool enough outside to need additional heat yet, but old habits die hard and I found myself with the urge to gather up wood before the sun went down.
Instead, I headed upstairs, passing by kids as I went. A few of the older ones were arguing over who was staying in which of the three other rooms, but I was too focused on what I was doing to get involved.
When I arrived at my parents’ door, I placed my hand on the cool surface. I almost knocked before I remembered that I didn’t need permission to go inside because it was empty. Pushing the door open, I stepped across the threshold, almost expecting to see my parents, unpacking and having the little private conversations they had whenever they thought they were alone. But the room was silent. So silent that I could hear the air flowing into my ears, which was incredibly unnerving. Needing to fill the empty space with something other than my thoughts, I picked up the remote control and pressed the power button.
Flipping through the channels, I eventually landed on an old movie that had been one of my mom’s favorites. I just couldn’t seem to get away from the memory of her, so I gave in and snuggled back onto the pillows on my parents’ bed. I watched as kids were chased down by a family of bad guys while searching for hidden treasure. In the movie, the misfits managed to avert booby traps and close calls until they foiled the evildoers and saved the day at the end.
I allowed myself to get swept up in the drama and thought about how we weren’t much different from the kids on the screen. We were on the run from people who wanted to hurt us, and things were likely to get worse before they got better.
As they cut to a commercial break, my mind was brought back to reality and I got up to go to the closet where my parents kept the bed stuff. I grabbed some sheets and pillowcases and started to make the bed. When I was done, I lay back down and breathed in the scent of the pillows deeply. The strong odor of detergent filled my nose, but underneath was the hint of something else. My parents. I could smell the tangy citrus of my mom’s perfume and the muskiness of my dad’s cologne. After so many years the aroma had faded but not completely. Still, I would recognize it anywhere and it made me feel like they were there with me.
I began to cry, lightly at first and then harder, until my body shook like an earthquake. Thank God I’d closed the door, because I didn’t want the others to see me like this. Weak and tired and broken. It was important that I kept up appearances and at least looked like I had it together. Even if I didn’t feel that way on the inside.
The movie started back up again and I forced myself to pay attention. Any escape from reality was sorely needed right now. Wiping tears from my now blotchy face, I watched as one of the boys gave his friends an inspirational speech to keep them going. My mom had told me once why she loved the movie so much. She explained that the kids were all unlikely heroes. People who took on challenges much bigger than they were and never gave up, even when winning the fight seemed impossible.
Mom had said that those were the qualities she’d always tried to instill in me.
I sat up straight on the bed and took a deep breath, feeling as if there were no coincidences in this world. This movie was a reminder of what I needed to do.