Mildred's Resistance: The Network Series, #0.5

A LETTER TO THE READER

Dear Reader,

This book is written by an unknown author. That’s the name I’ve chosen and it’s the only name you’ll ever know. My identity is not nearly as important as yours.

Suffice it to say that you may trust me; everything in this book is true. I tell the story about the people of the Resistance and all that it meant at the time. Perhaps it means something to you now, but it will never mean anything to you like it did to us.

The Resistance wasn’t an explosion. Rather, it was a slow burn that turned to flame, and then to fire. As to blame, I ask you to draw your own conclusions, for you now hold the truth in your hands.

Sincerely Yours,

The Unknown Author

THE BEGINNING

Mildred was a young girl, but she didn’t know it.

Most six-year-old girls didn’t spend their evenings hiding in a closet, protecting their little brother, while trying to block out the sound of their drunk father with magical spells. Most young girls dressed dolls, went to bed with a full tummy, and had time to play.

But not Mildred.

Look at the picture of the dragon, Jorden, Mildred whispered to her little brother, wincing when shattering glass crashed outside the small closet. What color is it?

Father screamed something at Mother, but Mildred couldn’t make out the words.

Gween, Jorden promptly replied, but his wide brown eyes strayed back to the door when the bellowing ceased. Mother’s calm voice responded, soothing some of Mildred’s worry. Mother would calm Father down; she always did. Then he’d apologize and be kind for a day or two before falling back into a sullen silence.

Very good, Mildred said, turning the page. Her right cheekbone throbbed every time she spoke, but she ignored it. Jorden was watching her warily, so she acted like nothing was wrong. How about this dragon?

A candle trembled in the air next to them, held there by Mildred’s weak ability to do magic. Beads of wax rolled down the candlestick, whose flame flickered eerily in the dark. A dollop of hot wax fell onto the back of her hand, but she ignored it.

This dragon is red, isn’t it? She pointed to a painted scene in the book, but Jorden wasn’t looking.

Milly, he whined, pressing his hands to his ears and leaning into her side. Make the yelling go away.

A slam sounded. Father had thrown a chair this time, no doubt. They’d never have the currency to buy new furniture. Mildred pressed her hands to Jorden’s ears and tried to think of an incantation that would block out sounds, but her mind had gone foggy. Her hand strayed to the tender skin covering the pulse in her cheek. Father had never struck her before tonight. She hoped Mother wouldn’t have to spend the next day in bed, like last time.

We can’t make them stop fighting, Jorden.

I want Mother!

She slapped a hand over his mouth. Quiet! she hissed, listening for the sound of approaching footsteps. Father often forgot about them during his ipsum-fueled rage, but sometimes he remembered. Even Mother’s protection spells couldn’t stop him if he really wanted to open the closet door. She softened her voice when Jorden’s lower lip trembled.

I’m sorry, Jorden, she said, gathering him into her lap. I didn’t mean to scare you. But we can’t see Mother right now. She locked us in here, remember?

He nodded. A long tear ran down his cheek from a wide brown eye.

Let’s keep reading about dragons, she said, holding the book a bit higher. Want to keep reading?

He hesitated but finally nodded and ran an arm underneath his drippy nose.

Good, she said in a tremulous voice, wishing she could cry. I’ll sound out the words, and you tell me what color the dragon is, okay?

Halfway through the book, Mildred paused when the yelling stopped, followed by a heavy thud. Silence fell. Holding his breath, he returned his eyes to the crack under the door.

Not a sound.

Mildred’s heart pounded in her throat. Was Mother okay? Had Father left? Perhaps he’d passed out, and they would escape over to Mrs. Tattleton’s across the street until the next morning, like usual. Jorden grabbed Mildred’s hand and held so tight it hurt. She wrapped her arm around his skinny body and waited.

The silence seemed to last forever.

A quiet murmur of voices eventually came. She strained to hear but found only hums. Mother’s voice, then Mrs. Tattleton’s, and then the deep reverberations of a male witch she didn’t recognize. It wasn’t father.

Milly, Jorden whispered. What’s happening?

I don’t know.

A long time later, the voices left, and Mildred heard the sound of feet approaching the closet door. Mildred hastily blew out the candle. It fell to the floor with a thud when she shoved Jorden into the corner and put herself in front of him just as the door opened a crack.

Mildred? Jorden? Mother’s voice called as light spilled into the closet. It’s just me. You can come out now. It’s safe.

Jorden scrambled from behind his sister and threw himself into Mother’s legs. Mildred clambered out behind him and followed suit with a cry of relief. Mother crouched down and hugged both of them, her brown hair shining with red highlights in the candlelight.

It’s okay, children, she said in a soothing tone, though her hand trembled against Mildred’s back. We’re safe now.

Mildred glanced over Mother’s shoulder to the kitchen, surprised to see their heavy iron frying pan sitting on the edge of the table. Mrs. Tattleton was kneeling on the floor, scrubbing the wooden boards with a heavy brush. The soap bubbles reflected a distinctive pinkish-red hue.

Where’s Father? Jorden asked. Mother pulled away.

He’s gone, she said resolutely. She touched Mildred’s swelling right cheek with the tender caress of a parent. He’s never going to hurt any of us again, I promise.

Jorden buried himself deep in Mother’s arms, letting free all his pent-up sobs. Mrs. Tattleton glanced up, saw Mildred watching, and blocked the stain on the floor with her body.

No matter how six-year-old Evelyn looked at it, the High Priestess was old.

Her graying hair puffed out in cloud-like curls, and she spoke with the measured, even tones of a grandmother. Evelyn sighed. Why had Mama insisted she meet the High Priestess? She didn’t care about an old witch, even if she did help rule the Central Network and act as Mama’s boss.

It wasn’t that Evelyn was afraid; nothing scared Evelyn. Not even the chants of the gypsies wandering through Chatham City at night. But the High Priestess smelled like talc, and it made her want to sneeze. Evelyn put her hand under her nose, already feeling the preliminary prickle.

Bring her in here, Marcia, the High Priestess said. I do love children. You speak so much about her. I can’t wait to see her red hair.

Evelyn leaned away from the doorway and back toward the hallway. She didn’t want to have tea with an old lady! What would they talk about? Mama turned to the door and waved.

Come in, Evelyn.

Evelyn shook her head of bobbed red hair. No way was she going in there, no matter how much she loved Mama.

Evie, come on! Mama’s voice sounded encouraging, but the stern listen-to-me-right-now press of her lips appeared, so Evelyn stepped away and leaned against the wall. She contemplated running down the hallway, past the Guardians standing by the stairs, and into the kitchens to beg Mrs. F to hide her. Then she wouldn’t have to smell the dry talc powder and pretend to be friends with a raisin.

What are ya doing? Mama asked, stepping into the hall and snatching Evelyn’s wrist before she could run. Mama’s thick Chatham City accent was even more pronounced when she was angry. Ya can’t play these childish games.

Mama, please! Evelyn whispered, trying to tug her hand away. She smells funny!

Mama’s eyebrows, so light they almost didn’t exist, lowered until her eyes became skinny lines.

She doesn’t either. Now, ya will be on ya best behavior tonight and be kind ta the High Priestess, or ya father will hear about it.

Evelyn stiffened. Mama never threatened to involve Papa unless she meant business.

But Mama—

The High Priestess is a very busy witch, Evie, Mama said, her voice softening as she lowered into a crouch next to her. Sometimes she gets very sad. So sad she can’t even get out of bed. I thought that bringing ya here might cheer her up and stop her from getting so sad because ya so young and happy. Just try? For me?

Evelyn stared deep into Mama’s sea green eyes. She adored Mama and would do anything for her. Fine, Evie mumbled, picking at the bow on the front of her dress. I’ll try. For ya.

Thank ya, Mama said, batting Evelyn’s hand away from the half-bow, re-tying it, and then straightening. Do ya remember what I taught ya ta say?

Yes.

Evelyn followed a few steps behind Mama, dragging her feet as she went so it was clear this was not on her agenda for the night. She stood in front of the old woman with her eyes downcast.

Merry meet, High Priestess, Evelyn mumbled, studying the white velvet slippers that covered the High Priestess’s veiny feet. I’m grateful ta meet ya.

Merry meet, Evelyn, the High Priestess said, peering down at her from where she sat at a vanity table filled with powders, ointments, and potions that older witches used to keep wrinkles away. How are you?

Good, Evelyn said, taking Mama’s hand and glancing over the contents of the vanity table. Are ya putting ointments on ya face ta stop the wrinkles? Because it’s not working. Ya should try a different one.

The High Priestess’s eyes popped wide open the same instant Mama grabbed Evelyn’s shoulder with hands of steel.

Evelyn! Mama hissed through her teeth. Apologize right now!

To Evelyn’s astonishment, the corners of the High Priestess’s lips twitched. Her eyes went from kind to surprised clearly enough that Evelyn knew she wasn’t mad. At least, not like Mama, whose vise-like grip had tightened.

Mama, she whined. That hurts—

Ya Highness, I deeply apologize, Mama said, bowing, her face a flaming red that matched her hair. I never imagined that she would—

The High Priestess waved a hand, smiling. Don’t worry, Marcia. She’s right. I do need new cream for my skin. I shall write the apothecary tomorrow. I’ve been meaning to for several days now; she’s simply provided the motivation. You have very pretty red hair, Evelyn. I’ve heard much about it.

Thank ya, she responded promptly, as Mama had taught her to do. Mama said it matches my personality.

Red hair in the Central Network was rare, so witches in the markets flocked to her with comments and questions. There’s that little red head, they’d say to their friends, waving. I see her here all the time. Don’t ya just love her freckles?

Evelyn basked in the attention because there was nothing she loved more. Except, maybe, all the pretty trinkets in the castle. They had a few trinkets at home—to prove we aren’t poor, we’re middle class—as Papa always said. None of their trinkets were as pretty as the ones here.

The High Priestess smiled. I’ll bet your hair does match your personality, she said. I think you’re a very bright, energetic girl.

I am.

We’re working on her humility, Marcia said, brushing the hair out of Evelyn’s eyes. Evelyn leaned away with a scowl.

Don’t, the High Priestess said in a whimsical tone. She’s perfect just the way she is.

Evelyn stared at the High Priestess with new eyes. Perhaps this old lady wasn’t so bad, even if she was saggy.

Mama says I was born talking, Evelyn said. I like ta talk ta other witches. Sometimes I get in trouble for making Mama late, and then Papa gets angry and yells so that—

Yes, well, I’m sure the High Priestess has things ta do, Marcia said, interrupting her daughter with a nervous smile. Say merry part ta the High Priestess, Evelyn.

Oh, don’t go yet! the High Priestess said. You haven’t even had tea.

Oh! Do ya have cookies? I love cookies with tea, but we only get them at home on birthdays and special holidays. Evelyn leaned toward the High Priestess and whispered, Sugar is bad for ya teeth.

A call came from the hallway before Marcia could admonish Evelyn for asking.

Marcia?

The High Priestess smiled at Evelyn, but this time her eyes twinkled. Yes, we have lots of cookies, she said with a little hop in her voice that reminded Evelyn of a jumping game. You can eat as many as you want.

Evelyn’s mouth dropped. What?

Are you sure you want her ta stay, High Priestess? Marcia asked, glancing at the door. I—

Yes, of course. Evie is a delightful little girl. She’s made my day bright just by being here. Go take care of what’s needed. We’ll be here in the meantime.

You can call me Evie because I said it’s okay, Evelyn piped up, lest the High Priestess think she was above getting permission. I only like some people calling me that, like Milly and Stella, but ya can be one of them because ya nice. I thought ya’d smell like talc, but now ya smell like cookies.

The High Priestess chuckled. Marcia hovered, glancing from her daughter to the hallway.

Really, Marcia, the High Priestess insisted with a dismissive wave of her hand, just for tea while you sort things out. It shall make me very happy. I think Evie and I are going to be great friends.

Evelyn smiled so wide at Mama that her cheeks hurt, but Marcia finally relented, so the discomfort was worth it. Evelyn jumped with a cry of joy—what could be more fun than tea in a castle?—and tugged on the High Priestess’s soft hands.

Let’s go! Evelyn cried impatiently. I’ll pour the tea because I’m afraid ya won’t do it right. Mama taught me how, and I’m really good at it. I’ll teach ya. I’m a good teacher.

THE WITCHES’ OATH

Mildred carefully dunked a stack of wooden plates into the steamy bucket of dishwater bubbling with soap. Next to her stood her best friend Evelyn, perched on a similar stool, in front of a similar tub, with her own stack of dishes to wash.

What happened? Evelyn asked, eyeing Mildred’s right cheek, which had a faint black and purple bruise. Unlike Mildred, who didn’t have a splash of water on her apron, Evelyn was half soaked.

I fell, Mildred said, and knocked it on the stairs.

Evelyn shot her a knowing look. Both of them had fathers driven to drink ipsum because of poverty, or in Evelyn’s case, bad memories from his job as a Guardian.

Didn’t hide fast enough? Evelyn asked with a sympathetic look. Mildred hesitated, then nodded. Evelyn gestured to the side of her head with a grimace. Me either.

Mrs. F, the head cook for Chatham Castle, bustled up from behind them to set three more plates on their pile.

There are my hardworking girls, Mrs. F cried with a warm smile. Tufts of hair peeked out from underneath her round white hat, and a frilly apron hung all the way to her knees. Recipe cards hovered around her head in a circular dance, reminding her of dishes to be cooked. Mildred was glad Mrs. F had shown up; now she didn’t have to explain to Evelyn that Father would never come back. It made her stomach hurt just thinking about it.

Thank you for helping with the breakfast dishes, as always, Mrs. F said, already moving on again, recipe cards in tow. Don’t be late for class now!

They continued their soapy chore in silence. Evelyn’s mother was an upper-floor maid at the castle, which meant she could afford the uniforms and had some education. Mildred’s mother Vanessa worked in the kitchen; she didn’t have currency or much official education, so she worked with bread and pastries. Both Evelyn and Mildred cleaned dishes every morning to pay for their breakfast at the castle. Jorden was too young to work as a fireboy, so he stayed with Mrs. Tattleton.

I found a spider in my bedroom last night, Evelyn said, her nose wrinkling with delighted disgust. And I pulled his legs off, the way Papa taught me. It was so gross! The legs kept moving!

Mildred grimaced. Pulling the legs off spiders didn’t seem very kind. She opened her mouth to reply, but Evelyn kept talking.

And I stayed up late practicing for Miss Sonia’s lesson today.

To demonstrate, Evelyn used a magical spell to lift several bubbles from the suds. They hovered in the air ten seconds before popping. Evelyn’s bright red braid flopped around her neck like a fish when she turned to Mildred.

Well? she asked, eyebrows lifted. What about ya?

Mildred had been practicing how to raise objects with a levitation spell for the past week. Whenever she did it at home by herself, she managed. Most of the time. Whenever she had to do it in front of others, well . . .

It’s fine, Mildred said, grabbing a few more plates. Come on, we have to hurry, or we’ll be late for class.

The idea of being late to anything sent a shiver of fear through Mildred, and she went back to her work with singular determination. Evelyn played with the bubbles instead, chattering about the Guardians who had complimented her bright hair that morning. Mildred ending up washing and drying far more than her fair share.

Hurry! Evelyn commanded as they scampered down the hallway. We’re going ta be late!

Their classroom was tucked into a deep corner of the servants’ quarters. Fifteen pupils attended, all children of other castle employees. Stella, the final component of their trio, met them in the classroom with a bright smile. Stella’s father was the Assistant to Council Member Porter, and they lived at the castle because her father worked all the time. Like Evelyn and Mildred, Stella’s birthday was also during the third month of summer, which meant all of them would turn seven in two more months.

Merry meet! Stella said. Her blue dress, which matched her lovely eyes, was illuminated by the light from the tall windows.

Merry meet, Stella! Evelyn replied. I can’t wait ta show ya what I can do with magic! Papa taught me a new spell last night with—

There she is! called a young fireboy from the other side of the room, his dirty arm pointing at the three of them. It’s Mildred Graeme: the witch who can’t do magic!

She can’t even buy new shoes.

She’s so poor, the dirt stays away from her!

She thinks she’s so much better than us, though, called another. She doesn’t even talk with an accent!

Mildred’s cheeks burned hot with shame when the rest of the students exploded in tittering laughter. Stella stepped up to Mildred’s side with a gasp of shock. Evelyn whipped around to face the bullies, fire in her eyes, hands stacked on her hips.

Hey! Evelyn yelled back. Ya don’t know anything, Charlie! Ya can’t even remember ya letters, can ya? Mildred’s my friend. My best friend. Ya want to make fun of her? Ya gotta go through me.

Charlie, whose cheeks were smudged with charcoal, hesitated. The others’ chortling died down.

I’m not scared! he said, swallowing.

Ya should be! Evelyn took a step toward him. He leapt back. I’ll hex ya until you’re cross-eyed for the rest of ya life, ya obnoxious cow! I know ya daddy, and he’s the worst drunk in Chatham City.

Charlie recoiled when she moved closer, then stopped and tried to square his shoulders. But even his friends shuffled back, leaving him standing alone before Evelyn’s wrath. He shrank away.

That’s what I thought, coward, she muttered, then moved her sharp gaze to his friends. If anyone has a problem with Mildred, ya take it up with me, got it? She’s got a Mama who doesn’t have an accent, but that doesn’t mean she’s putting on airs.

They nodded haphazardly, scrambling when Miss Sonia soared into the room. Take your seats, everyone! she called, clapping three times. To your seats!

The three girls slipped into their shared bench at the very back of the room without another word, though Evelyn tracked Charlie and his friends all the way to their desk. Mildred sat in the middle of the bench and reached for Evelyn’s and Stella’s hands with a firm squeeze.

Thank you, she whispered, and Evelyn winked.

No one makes fun of my best friends.

I trust all of you practiced over the weekend, Miss Sonia called in a sing-song. A scroll flew from her desk and into her hand. We shall demonstrate our levitation spells after I finish roll.

Dread dropped into Mildred’s stomach like a heavy stone. Now that Charlie had humiliated her, it would be even more difficult to do magic in front of other witches. The words always froze in her mouth like a chunk of ice. Too soon, Miss Sonia set down the attendance scroll.

Evelyn Ringer, you shall demonstrate first.

Evelyn strode to the front of the room, the ends of her dress swaying around her legs. Instead of levitating the feather that Miss Sonia had provided on the table at the front, she lifted Charlie’s stack of books, using magic to move them to the far end of the room, where they flew out the open window.

Miss Sonia shot her a disapproving glare. Evelyn, she drawled.

Oh, very well, Miss Sonia, she said and summoned the books back with another spell, one that Mildred wouldn’t have been able to do if she’d tried endlessly for days. The books returned with a plop in front of the sulking Charlie. Evelyn gave him a triumphant smile and flounced back to her seat

That’ll show him! she muttered when she fell back into the chair with her usual gusto.

Mildred swallowed hard, already sensing that Miss Sonia would call her next. Her mind fluttered like a rising flock of birds. What would she do now? A simple levitation spell was beyond her ability. Now that Evelyn had embarrassed Charlie, he’d really make fun of Mildred for not being good with magic.

Mildred Graeme, Miss Sonia said. How about you go next?

You’ll do great, Milly, Stella whispered, squeezing her hand one last time. Just concentrate like we practiced after class last week.

The walk to the front of the classroom felt interminable. Mildred looked to Miss Sonia, who gave her an encouraging smile, and down at the feather, avoiding the quiet taunts of Charlie and his friends.

Easy, she reminded herself, gathering the words for the incantation. It will be easy.

But the words for the incantation had fled, dissolving into the teasing voices of her peers.

There she is! The witch who can’t do magic.

Mildred’s the dumbest student in class.

She’s so poor that she uses sticks to eat her porridge!

She tried to shove their voices into the back of her mind, but it didn’t work. Oh, why couldn’t she remember the words?

Put your back to the classroom, Miss Sonia said when silence prevailed for too long. Sometimes that helps.

Mildred mumbled a few magical words under her breath. Instead of lifting into the air, the feather caught on fire.

Oh no! Mildred cried, scrambling forward. I didn’t—

Miss Sonia cast another spell and the feather snuffed out before Mildred could get to it. The smell of singed hair curled in her nostrils. The smell of failure.

It’s okay, Mildred, Miss Sonia said with a patient smile. I get nervous in front of other witches, too. Come see me after class and we’ll try again.

Mildred gratefully returned to her seat, eyes averted. Charlie and his friends remained silent, watching Evelyn’s clenched fist from the corner of their eyes. They let Mildred pass without bothering her.

You did great, Milly, Stella whispered with a comforting smile.

Evelyn patted her on the back. You’ll show them one day, Milly, she said. I just know you will.

Relieved to be amongst friends again, Mildred pushed her embarrassment from her mind and focused her whole attention on the lesson.

It’s all right, Mildred. Keep working. Magic isn’t easy for every witch, you know.

Miss Sonia patted her on the back as Mildred’s simple illumination spell failed to light a candle yet again. The cold wick seemed to mock her.

Thank you, Miss Sonia, she whispered, sliding off the bench and gathering her books. A week had passed since her last embarrassing failure in front of the class, and though she’d remained behind every day for more instruction, she still struggled with levitation and illumination.

I’m sure Stella and Evelyn are waiting for you outside.

Mildred nodded, then slipped into the hall, books in hand. Her friends weren’t there like usual, so she kept walking until she found them just down the hall. Stella and Evelyn were huddled together, their ears pressed to Mrs. F’s office door. Evelyn moved to the side to give Stella more room, her face scrunched into a worried expression.

Stella? Mildred asked. Evie?

Evelyn glanced up, then seeing Mildred standing in the hallway, waved frantically for her to join them. They wore solemn, intent faces.

What are you doing? Mildred whispered. Evelyn put a finger against her lips. Stella pulled Mildred in close.

We overheard your name when we were walking by, she whispered, just when your mother walked into Mrs. F’s office. Evelyn put a listening incantation on the door so we could hear what they were saying about you.

Mildred wedged herself between her two friends and pressed her ear to the door.

What will you do with only one income, Vanessa? Mrs. F asked, her voice muffled through the heavy wood. You know the rest of the kitchen staff will help you in any way you need.

Mildred’s heart leapt into her throat. Did her family need help? Was something wrong?

Without two incomes, we can’t afford rent where we live now, Mother replied. I’m going to find a place on the outskirts of the city that won’t be so expensive.

You should try York, Mrs. F said. I grew up there. It would be a lovely, safe place for your kids while you’re at work.

I suppose I can transport here every day.

York is in the country, so there isn’t as much crime as Chatham City, but it’s still in the suburbs. It’s a quiet, quaint little place. No doubt Mildred will like being away from the city.

Mildred glanced at her two friends with equal anxiety. Move to a place called York? Her stomach roiled with the thought of leaving her friends.

Mildred will be happy to get away.

She won’t be able to come to work with you like she does now, Mrs. F pointed out. She’s so happy here, and Sonia said she’s just starting to get over the worst of her shyness.

Mother sighed. I can enroll Mildred in a common school in York. She’ll continue to learn magic there, even if she’s not with her friends. The good gods know she needs practice. I could bring her in every now and then to see Stella and Evelyn.

Stella reached out and grasped Mildred’s hand. All three girls pressed harder into the door.

Will you be able to afford food on your own?

I think so. We’ll have to scrape by for a while.

I’ll make sure to send any scraps home that you may need. Everything will be all right, Vanessa, now that he can’t hurt you anymore.

Mildred felt that cold feeling in her stomach. Now that he can’t hurt you anymore. Mother and Mrs. F’s conversation faded into a discussion over warming dishes that needed new incantations. Evelyn pushed away from the door, and all three girls tiptoed to a hidden alcove down the hall.

What will we do? Stella wailed, wringing her hands together. We can’t let Mildred leave!

I can’t stay if Mother is leaving, Mildred said. Evelyn’s lips were a hard, thin line that meant she was thinking. She would come up with something, surely. She always had good ideas, ideas Mildred could never have dreamed up on her own.

Ya could transport! Evelyn cried. Just transport ta see us everyday.

Mildred shook her head. I’m only six! I can’t learn that until I’m older. Besides, I can barely levitate a feather.

Evelyn’s shoulders fell, and her lips slipped back into their narrowed lines of thought. Ya could move in with Stella?

Oh yes! Stella cried. Then you could see your mother while she’s at work.

Mildred shook her head. Mother wouldn’t let me. Besides, I’d miss my brother.

A full ten minutes of agitated silence passed. We can’t stop it, Evelyn concluded, as grim as Mildred. Ya will have ta listen ta ya mother and go where she says.

Mildred could hardly comprehend a change so drastic. Not see her friends each morning? Not laugh with Evelyn while washing dishes? It didn’t make any sense. First Father left, and now she had to leave. She just wanted all the changes to stop.

I’ll write you all the time, Stella promised, her eyes filling with tears. You won’t even feel like you’re gone.

Me also, Evelyn said. Just because ya aren’t here doesn’t mean we can’t still be best friends. I’ll make sure we stay friends!

Your mother said she’ll bring you to visit every now and then, Stella said, trying to find something happy because that’s what Stella always did. Everything will be okay.

Evelyn glanced at the bruise on Mildred’s cheek. Now that ya mean father is gone, it’ll be okay.

Mildred absently touched the sensitive skin, reliving the moment she saw the back of Father’s hand flying toward her. She shrank away from the memory with a shudder. She’d miss both of her friends desperately. Their soothing presence brought such comfort into her confusing life.

I know! Stella cried. Let’s make a Witches’ Oath. Together we’ll be strong enough to seal it!

Evelyn’s bright green eyes lit up. "Yes! We’ll promise ta write each other at least once a week. Then, when I get older and better at magic, I’ll transport ta ya all the time Milly! We’ll never really be apart if we have the Witches’ Oath ta seal us."

Yes! Mildred squealed, and the three of them giggled. Evelyn stuck her little finger into the middle of their group.

We’ll promise to always be best friends to the very end! Stella said as she hooked her finger with Evelyn’s. Mildred looped her finger around the others. They all grinned and began the incantation for a simple Witches’ Oath with hushed, childish whispers.

We make an oath on the honor of all witches who have come, who will come, and who shall ever be, they chanted in unison. We shall be friends to the very end!

A thin gray line appeared around their left pinkies: the symbol of the Witches’ Oath. They inspected their hands and fell into each other’s arms, laughing as if nothing bad had ever happened to them, nor ever would again.

CHANGES

The fire crackled merrily in the hearth one fall evening, illuminating High Priestess Nell’s personal chambers with a bright light for Evelyn to play by. Remnants of her seventh birthday party littered the table: a new tea set, crumbs from the cake of which she’d greedily consumed two slices, and the brown wrapping paper that held most of her presents.

Nell had never enjoyed a mess more.

She glanced at the clock. Evelyn’s mother Marcia had been called away from the celebration hours before and hadn’t returned. Evelyn spent most evenings with Nell now, keeping the usual dark depression Nell suffered from at bay with her witty comments and bossy attitude. But never had Marcia been so late picking her up.

Are you getting tired, Evie? Nell asked, looking on the girl with fondness. Her red hair was so luminous and her skin so pale. Playing quietly on the floor, she looked like the porcelain doll Nell had just given her. Even her blue silk dress matched the doll’s frock. Evelyn wasn’t a naturally beautiful child, but her impish smile held plenty of sway over most witches.

No, Evelyn said, I just want ta play with my dolls.

Nell chuckled and stared half-heartedly at the tottering pile of envelopes awaiting her response. Playing with Evelyn was much more enjoyable than working because she could, for just a moment, imagine that Evelyn was her daughter. A blessing that could never be.

Have you finished your homework? Nell asked.

Yes, Nell.

And responded to Mildred’s letter?

Evelyn nodded with a long-suffering sigh. Yes, Nell. You need to work, she said, sending Nell a ripe look of authority with her green eyes, standing with her hands on her hips. You’ve been playing with me all day. Mama says I’m a distraction and shouldn’t bother you. She won’t let me visit you after school every day if I get in your way.

Nell smiled. Paperwork scattered her lap desk; she had much work to do, as usual. You’re the best distraction, Evie. And your accent is improving. You aren’t changing o’s into a’s as much.

I know. I forget sometimes, but most of the time I’m perfect.

A knock sounded on the door. Mama’s here! Evelyn cried, then ran to Nell’s side with a frown. Nell! I don’t want to go home, she whispered, her lips falling in the same irresistible pucker that too often earned her cookies for dinner. Evelyn lowered her eyes to the ground and finished with a mumble, Papa was in a bad mood this morning. I don’t want ta see him again.

But it wasn’t Marcia. A tear-stained maid opened the door just a crack and motioned for the High Priestess to come into the hall. A worrying thought tickled Nell’s mind. The maids would never beckon unless . . .

It’s not your Mama yet, pretty girl, Nell said in a bright, cheery voice. Looks like the maids need me. How about you go find your new tea set and give your doll a drink before she goes to bed? It will help her sleep.

Evelyn hesitated, her young eyes calculating, and for a second Nell worried that she hadn’t hidden her concern well enough. Then Evelyn gave in with a sigh.

Good idea. But she can’t have any cookies this late!

I agree, Nell said, standing. I’ll join you when I’ve finished.

Don’t be gone long! Evelyn retorted with high-handed command. I’ll wait for you here. Come right back.

Nell smiled to set her at