Chapter 1

1
A RAVEN PERCHED ON MY WINDOWSILL, and she wanted to talk.

For most people, this might be an uncommon, and perhaps unsettling, occurrence. Especially since said raven hopped along the ledge of beveled wood, swiveling her head so she could peer into my room with her glossy black eyes. She rapped her beak against the windowpane, the tap-tap-tap an eerie sound in the otherwise still and gloomy dark hours of the morning.

However, given that my best friend was a witch, this wasn’t uncommon or unsettling, merely really freaking annoying, especially since it was before six a.m.

“No,” I said from my tangled nest of blankets and my soft pillow, eyes still heavy with sleep. “Go away. If Al wants to talk to me, they can use their perfectly good phone.” I fished mine out from the sheets and held it up as an example, waving it lazily in the direction of the window to convey my drowsy displeasure.

The raven—named Lenore, since Al could never resist a fun allusion—glared at me and ruffled her midnight-blue feathers. She cawed in irritation and lifted her leg to show the small cylinder attached.

“No. I refuse.” I rolled over and pulled the blankets over my head. My phone screen glowed 5:49. Eleven whole minutes still existed before my alarm would sound. And I was determined to relish every last second before my day was scheduled to begin. I closed my eyes, tucked my hands beneath my chin, and steadfastly ignored the messenger on my windowsill.

Lenore tapped again, the sound sharp and aggressive.

I didn’t move.

She cawed.

I didn’t answer.

She struck her beak against the glass in short rapid-fire bursts, acting more like a woodpecker than a raven, taking her attention-seeking efforts up a level.

I refused to budge.

Lenore let loose a series of high-pitched, indignant squawks, because how dare I snub her. Well, she could continue rapping at my chamber door—er, window. I was an expert at avoidance.

I managed to slip back toward a blissful, dreamless sleep. But then she raked her talons across the glass. I cringed at the awful nails-on-a-chalkboard sound, and the hair on my arms stood on end. Clapping my hands over my ears, I curled into a tight ball. She made a cawing noise akin to a cackle, then did it again.

Any semblance of my resolve instantly shattered.

Before she decided that a third wince-inducing scratch was required, I sat up and dramatically threw off the blankets. “Ugh. Fine, you win, you demented bird. Keep it down.”

Lenore quieted immediately. Her attempts to deliver her message in a timely manner had been loud enough to wake the dead, which meant she also could have potentially woken my parents, and I was certain they wouldn’t appreciate being roused by a loud, irritating bird, much less a magic one.

“You’re a menace,” I whispered harshly as I stalked over to the window.

She didn’t flinch when I pushed it open. She simply lifted her head and held out her leg as if she hadn’t just been throwing a tantrum. Typical magical-bird behavior.

Removing the small piece of parchment from the tube attached to her leg was something I’d done a thousand times. Back when neither Al nor I had had phones to contact each other, back when we were younger and thought using a bird for messages was the epitome of magic, we’d send each other notes constantly. It was a miracle Lenore had survived the number of trips she had flown between our houses.

But then we grew up and the childhood wonder around magic dimmed for both of us, in different ways.

And, well, now we could text.

I grumbled a thank-you to Lenore and unrolled the missive.

Today we embark on our journey to fully embrace our future and our true selves. Are you ready? See you in an hour!

Ugh. I couldn’t be too mad at that. I grabbed a pen from my desk, flipped the paper over, and wrote a note in return.

Ready. Let’s do this. Text me next time, though. Your bird is a bully.

I added a heart at the end to soften my words. Al would appreciate that. And it would add to the sincerity since I wasn’t all that enthusiastic about Al’s plan of a themed sophomore year. They were adamant that we approach our new school year with a guiding purpose and a slogan, as if we were middle-aged suburban adults on New Year’s Eve rather than teenagers embarking on yet another year of high school. My suggestion of the theme “unremarkable school year” was overruled despite my objection that it was unfair to allow Lenore to cast the deciding vote.

I rolled the paper and slid it into the cylinder on Lenore’s leg. She bobbed her head, nipped lightly at my finger—as was her way of showing affection—then flew off.

Stretching my arms over my head, I yawned, then shut off my alarm since I was up anyway. I padded to my dresser, where I had laid out my clothes the night before. My phone beeped with a text alert.

Did you get my message?

I shook my head, my honey-blond hair falling across my brow.

Yes. Why are you so dramatic?

The reply came quickly. One of us has to be.

Sure. But not at 6 in the morning.

Al’s response was the thumbs-up emoji. I narrowed my eyes. That basically meant they had read my text and acknowledged it but would more than likely send Lenore even earlier tomorrow. Al had a passive-aggressive streak a mile long and could be petty with the best of them when they wanted. And now I would have to endure it every day.

A delighted thrill ran through my middle. Despite their antagonistic emoji usage, I couldn’t help but be excited at the prospect of seeing Al at school.

Al and I had been best friends since first grade. We had been inseparable all through elementary school and the beginning of middle school. But when their mothers had relocated their house to be closer to their coven headquarters, Al was suddenly in a different school district. And they had been forced to change schools. We’d stayed friends, of course, though we were only able to see each other on weekends or over breaks, and only if my older brother, Aiden, was able to drive me.

We’d used Lenore to keep in touch until we were deemed old enough to have phones. But cute notes paled in comparison to hanging out with Al in person.

This year would be different, though. The school system had built and opened a new high school, and the district lines had been redrawn. We would be attending the same school for the first time since sixth grade. It was the miracle I hadn’t known I needed.

Especially since Aiden was no longer around.

I scrolled through the messages on my phone and stopped when I found the last one I had sent him. It was undeliverable, presumably because he had changed his number or blocked mine. The text before that had been from him telling me to “follow my own path,” whatever that meant. And to “trust myself,” and that “everything would be okay.” Those were dated from May. It was now August, and I hadn’t heard from my older brother since.

The last time I had seen him was in January over his winter break from his second year at college. I wished I could go back in time. I’d prod him more about school, about his studies, about his life, about anything, and maybe I’d find out why he’d chosen to abandon our family. Abandon me. But I didn’t have access to anyone who could change the past. And I had to live in the present.

My backup alarm went off, reminding me I needed to get a move on, or I would be late to my first day of sophomore year. I shucked off my pajamas and changed into the outfit I had specifically chosen for the day. A pair of jeans ripped at the knees and a concert tour T-shirt of the Hexes—Al’s favorite all-witch rock band; we’d managed to score tickets to one of their shows over the summer.

I zipped to the bathroom, ignoring the closed door at the end of the hall that had been Aiden’s. I scrubbed my face, my cheeks turning pink against my fair skin. I dabbed a little concealer over the pimple I had on my chin and the few that clustered just above my dark eyebrows. Then I styled my hair with a side part that exposed my forehead, just not the side with the zits. I added a leather bracelet on my left wrist and a thin silver necklace. And perfect. I wasn’t normally this vain, but it was the first day of school, and I’d been the quiet, odd artistic kid last year. This year I wanted to blend.

I tilted my head to the side and squinted. I should’ve gotten my ears pierced like Al had suggested over the summer, but I hadn’t wanted to push my parents’ boundaries too far. Maybe another time.

Anyway, I couldn’t keep Al waiting. I ran back to my room and grabbed my backpack, ensuring my sketchbook was safe inside along with all my other supplies. I’d picked up my schedule at orientation the other night, so I knew that Al and I had English Lit together, our first class of the day. Then we parted ways until lunch, where we had the same block. I slung my bag over my shoulder and breathed deeply, centering myself.

Now, to get past the parents who were hopefully asleep despite Lenore’s earlier theatrics. I descended the stairs, my socked feet not making a sound on the carpet. Success! I only had to slip on my shoes and slide out the door.

“Cam!” My mother’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “I hope you’re not trying to leave for the first day of school without saying goodbye.”

Damn. My plan had been foiled. My shoulders sagged. “No. I’ll be right there.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and steeled myself. Okay. I’ve got this. I’m an unaffected king. I gripped the straps of my backpack and walked down the hallway into the bright kitchen.

My mom sat at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in her hands. She appeared impeccable and unapproachable, the same as she’d been my whole life. She must have been up for a while, if she was already dressed for the day. She’d probably been anticipating my attempt at an escape. Her makeup was on point, her hair immaculately styled, the same brown shade as my natural color, though highlighted with a few strands of gray.

I stood a few feet away and waited as her gaze roved from my feet up to my reddening face. Her eyebrows lifted at the holes in my jeans and went even higher at the shirt featuring the Hexes. The side of her mouth dipped into a slight frown as her stare reached my hair. She hadn’t said anything when I originally dyed it, but I bet she’d assumed I’d color it back once my roots had started to show at the end of the summer. I hadn’t. I had merely dyed it again.

“You’re up early,” I said, forcing a grin. “Was it Lenore? She was in rare form this morning.”

She tapped her manicured nails against her coffee cup. “That’s what you’re wearing?” she asked, her tone even. Her disapproval was reflected in the purse of her lips.

I looked down at myself and tried not to fidget. “Yes?”

“Are you sure?”

My spirit sank, but I smiled through it. My second go-to coping mechanism was humor. I knew exactly which article of clothing created the problem—the T-shirt for a popular witch band—but I could be flippant. “Is it the bracelet? Or the necklace? Are they too much?”

She sighed into her coffee. “They’re fine,” she said simply, and left it at that.

“Okay. So I’m going to head out.”

She hummed. “It’s early still. Why don’t you have breakfast before you leave?”

“Oh. I don’t have time. Sorry.”

“Really?” She made a show of craning her neck and looking at the clock. “Is there something that you need to do before school? Is that why you were in such a hurry that you weren’t going to say goodbye?”

And that was the sticky part. My mom had never outright voiced her displeasure at the friendship I had with Al, but she had been visibly relieved when Al had changed schools. She hadn’t said that while I was sobbing my eyes out about it when I was younger—she wasn’t cruel—but she did try hard to guide me toward friendships with other kids. Other non-paranormal kids. Because while my mom and dad were well aware that there were witches, werewolves, faeries, sprites, and a whole host of supernatural entities living all around us, shopping at the same grocery stores and attending the same schools, that didn’t mean they were stoked for me to be friends with them. We were only human, after all.

There had been a handful of paranormal kids in my classes in middle school and at the high school I’d attended the previous year, but I wasn’t close to any of them. Or close to anyone, for that matter. I wasn’t the most outgoing, and once best-friend-forever friendships weren’t based on forced proximity but actual social acuity, I tended to melt into the background.

But when the new high school was built and the school lines redrawn, it wasn’t lost on many parents that the majority of the known paranormal groups were in the boundaries for Central Shady Hallow High. Though my parents would never admit it, they weren’t happy that our neighborhood was also included. I’d overheard them discussing a few different options like pulling me from public school, or moving to another neighborhood or, even more drastically, out of Shady Hallow altogether. In the end, they hadn’t, but I knew better than to flaunt my friendship with a witch or my crush on a werewolf.

I cleared my throat. “I’m meeting Al. We’re going to walk to school together.”

The corners of her lips twitched downward. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“This is a new school with new opportunities. You should try to make other friends.”

“I can make other friends and still be friends with Al.”

My mom sipped her coffee and then placed the cup on the saucer with slightly more force than necessary. “And what happens when Al makes friends with other witches? Will you be invited along? Or will they leave you behind? It’s already happened once before.”

I clenched my jaw. “That was out of their control, and we stayed friends.”

“They’re a witch, Cam.”

“Oh, and humans can’t abandon people?”

My mom’s frown deepened, as did the worry lines around her mouth and the creases in her forehead. She leveled an intense glare in my direction, and I had to look away, because that expression meant I was in trouble. Bringing up Aiden was a bad move on my part. I had to smooth this over, or else I would have to suffer through a few awkward family dinners until her anger faded.

I rocked back on my heels. “Al and I have one class together. I’ll… try to talk to other students and make friends.” Before she could push further, I added, “Human friends.”

“Just make an effort. That’s all I ask.”

I shrugged. “I will.”

“Good. Now, how are you getting to school?”

“I’m riding my bike to the corner, then meeting Al and walking from there.”

She huffed. “I assume Al is taking their broom?”

I bristled but didn’t rise to the bait. “I think one of their moms is driving them. Anyway, I have to go. If I don’t leave now, I’m going to be late.”

“Fine. Have a good day, Cam.”

I left the kitchen and made a beeline for the exit. Once I was on the front stoop, I leaned against the door and allowed my head to rest against the thick wood. I closed my eyes and swallowed back my frustrated tears. Wow, this day was off to a great start. I had been woken up early by a belligerent fowl, and then my mom had basically unearthed one of my biggest fears and brought it right to the forefront of my mind.

I had wanted to retort that Al and I would be best friends forever. But she wasn’t wrong: Al was a witch, and I was human. I couldn’t tell the future, unless the occasional weirdly specific dream counted, but as Al’s message had said this morning, I could still embrace it.

Possibly.

Or I could ignore it until it became an actual problem.

Either way, I still had to go, or I really was going to be late.