There was no conversation in the car. Bara tried several times to talk it out. Her father said nothing. She realized there was no point in explaining. What exactly could she say anyway? Dad, your wife’s a witch. Colin believed her. She doubted her father would. So she turned her head to the window and waited out the ride home. It was a relief when the car pulled up to the house. A short-lived one. Courtney waited at the open door.

Bara got out of the passenger side. Courtney rushed at her. Was she going to attack? Courtney stopped suddenly and regained control. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Bara said nothing and her father answered for her.

“She’s fine.”

They all made their way back into the house. Bara was sent to her room. She did as told but stole one last glance at Courtney before going up the stairs. There was nothing short of satisfaction on her stepmother’s face.

Bara returned to her pink catastrophe of a room. She threw her coat haphazardly onto a chair. It looked out-of-place in the spotless room. The Pink Puketorium was tidy. She’d expected to find it ransacked. Then maybe it had been and Courtney had cleaned up afterward. It hardly mattered. She wouldn’t have found what she was looking for—the diary.

There were footsteps outside the door. Next came a knock. Bara told the knocker to come in and then working at avoidance, grabbed her coat, and went into the closet. When she came back out, her father sat on the bed. He motioned for her to join him. Dreading what was to come, she crossed the room and sat.

“I’m worried about you, Bara Evelyn.” Evelyn—her middle name, her grandmother’s name. She’d obviously really put him at his at wit’s end.

“I’m okay, Daddy.” It was a shameless ploy calling him daddy, but it was worth a try.

He didn’t soften. “I’d have liked to have talked with your mother, but as she is out of reach of any communication …” He paused and took a deep breath before continuing on. “In the absence of your mother, I’ve talked it over with Courtney and we …”

“You talked about me .. with her! How could you?”

“I needed another opinion.”

“Not from Courtney. She’s the last person you should talk to about me. What do you even know about her? You married so quickly. You and Mom were hardly divorced. Courtney could be a … a murderer or something.”

“A murderer?” he mocked. “Really Bara? That’s what you’re going with. Courtney’s a murder? No, she’s not and she isn’t to blame for any of this either. She didn’t sneak out of the house and worry everyone. You did. I didn’t find her in a strange boy’s room, doing God knows what. That was you. All you.”

“We weren’t doing God knows what and Colin’s not strange. I’ve known him since I was five and so have you.”

“Boys are odd at his age. They all want the same thing.”

“Colin’s my friend. He’d never try anything like that.”

Her naiveté was too much and after finding her in a boy’s room, on his bed, in the middle of the night. She couldn’t be that dense. He couldn’t contain himself any longer.

“Yes he would! I was a boy once and believe me, I know.”

Anger is contagious. Bara lost it right along with him. “Colin isn’t anything like you,” she fired back … then they ceased to fight about Colin. “He’s loyal. He’d never leave his family. Never! Not like you did.”

Bara had finally said it, what she’d been thinking all these months. Looking at her father now, she wished she hadn’t it. His anger was gone, replaced with something much more difficult to look at. He took a deep breath before speaking again.

“Be that as it may, my shortcomings are not the issue here. Your behavior is. You’re grounded. There’s no question about that. And I don’t want you seeing Colin again until I’ve had a chance to talk this over with your mother.”

“Dad, I’m sorry.”

“I know you are. I am too.”

He left the room.

***

The bedside clock said it was 4:30 am. Her father was in bed and likely Courtney with him. There’d be no sleep for Bara, not until she talked this out with someone. Unfortunately, her phone was in her other coat, downstairs. Treading through the dark house would likely wake someone. After her last escape act, her father had most certainly armed the motion sensors in the entryway. There was a landline down the hall. That would work, but getting caught talking to Colin would only rev things up again. If she did get discovered, her father would go a lot easier if it were Amy—a nice, safe—female friend. The decision made, Bara got out of bed and crept down the hall. Conscious of every creak of the floorboards, she hoped she was the only one.

The phone was on a table across from a guest room. She picked up the receiver. To her mind, the click sounded as loud as a thunderbolt. She listened. The house remained silent. She dialed and prayed Amy and not someone else, especially Mr. Frank, answered. There was only one ring. A familiar alto sounded on the other line. Talking in the hall wasn’t the best idea. Bara took the phone into the guest room. “Amy,” she whispered. “I know it’s late. I’m sorry if I’ve gotten you into trouble.”

“It’s okay. I knew you’d be calling.”

They continued to speak in hushed tones.

“Amy …” Bara paused not sure of her reaction. “I think … no, I know my stepmother is a witch. She’s Guenevere. That’s why Sedgewick and the Wisp have picked me.”

Amy reacted with disbelief but then took a moment to think. “How can you be sure?” she asked.

Bara went over the events of the night and Amy listened. If it had only been Bara having these weird dreams, Amy would have clung to her doubt, but if Colin were having the dreams too, something supernatural was definitely going on. Besides, she’d had her own weird dream experience and was still processing. They couldn’t all be going crazy. And so Amy listened and then agreed. Too much had happened for her to continue to doubt.

“Does Courtney know that you know?” she asked Bara.

“I don’t think so. She’d have tried to do something to me, wouldn’t she? All she’s done so far is try to get the diary.”

“Don’t be alone with her. ‘Kay? Can you lock your door?”

“There’s no lock, but I can push a chair in front of it. I wish you were here, Amy. No, I wish we were back in our dorm room and away from this place.”

There was silence on the other end.

“Amy?” Still no response. “Amy!”

A moment passed and then Amy spoke in a whispered rush. “He’s awake—he meant Mr. Frank—I should go.”

“Wait! You said you knew I’d be calling. How?”

“I had a dream … I’m pretty sure the Wisp told me.”

Bara was incredulous.“What? First me, then Colin, and now you?”

“It wasn’t like your dream, or even Colin’s. I’m not even sure it was a dream. I wasn’t in the woods or anywhere else like that. I was in my room. She came in. I couldn’t move or speak or do anything. She stood over of my bed and whispered I should wake up. That you’d be calling. When I opened my eyes she was gone. I snuck out to the hall and sat down next to the phone. A minute later you called.”

“She must be watching all of us,” Bara reasoned.

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe she can protect you from your stepmother.”

“Do you think she can do that?”

“I don’t know. I have to go. He’s in the kitchen. I’ll call you tomorrow. Be careful.”

Click.

Bara crept out of the guest room and hung up the phone. She listened to the house for any sign that someone had overheard the conversation. Everything was still. She retreated down the hall and back to the Pink Puketorium. An armchair found its way in front of the door. It was hard work. The chair was heavy, and she was trying not to make any noise, but if she found the chair heavy, so would her stepmother. Mission accomplished, she settled on the window seat and looked down at the lawn statues—an army of silent watchers.

Odd under the circumstances, with a real-life witch down the hall, but she felt somehow safe. It made her feel better to think the Wisp was watching over her. Hit by a sudden rush of fatigue, Bara got up and crossed to the bed. It was comfy even if it was pink. Courtney was sleeping and wouldn’t bother her until morning. The witch was sleeping and so should she. Dreams were calling. Bara hoped they’d be normal dreams. Better yet, she hoped she wouldn’t dream at all. She closed her eyes. Her mind finally quieted and she drifted off.

Blessed day, her sleep was a restful one—at first.

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