Page 29 of How to Flirt with a Witch

The wordpossessedmakes me look up.

“Katie’s taking calculus,” Clayton says, perking up. “I bet she can help.”

“Um—sure.” I blink, pulling my focus away from my phone. It’s been more challenging to study lately with my mind constantly circling Natalie. I’ll be mid-sentence on a paper, and suddenly, I’m reading an article on jinxes.

“Do you have any idea what I did wrong?” Andrea pushes her notebook across the table to me, and I mold my brain around the equation.

“Katie’s a genius.” Clayton leans in and gives me a not-so-subtle flirty nudge. He always manages to sit beside me and never misses an opportunity for a poke or elbow.

I keep my gaze on Andrea’s page. “Just a perfectionist who doesn’t give up on solving a problem.”

“That’s why you’re going to ace everything,” he says.

Clayton failed two midterms, which was obviously an awakening because he’s been less concerned about being the Party Guy since then. Now, his approach is to ask me to get together and study instead of inviting me to parties.

“You almost had it,” I tell Andrea. I scribble down the solution and slide the paper back to her.

She looks it over. “Oh my gosh, Iloveyou.”

My phone buzzes, and my heart skips a beat.

Natalie

If I were exorcizing demons, how would that change your world view? Would you adopt a certain religion?

I press my lips together, hearing the text in my head in her low voice. Typical Natalie, skirting the answer.

Katie

It’s a little infuriating how you don’t confirm or deny any of my theories. At least give me a hint.

Natalie

Have you considered a zombie outbreak? Rebecca was looking a little undead before she exploded…

Katie

You’re such a brat

Natalie

(:

I sip my coffee to hide my smile. I don’t need Clayton asking me what I’m smirking at.

The playfulness in Natalie’s texts is… surprising. Encouraging. If she didn’t want me messaging her, she would tell me, right? She was certainly direct about it before.

But something’s changed since the doll incident. She’s more open.

I scroll back through our message history. Of all my scattered and ridiculous theories, I keep coming back to one word:cursed. I think Lucy and Rebecca were carrying curses. What else could bring powerful strokes of bad luck? What else could cause electrical outages, hatch spiders on my bed, and open the window to let aggressive birds fly into my room?

Two weeks ago, I texted the word to Natalie. Her response, also a single word, was as noncommittal as ever:Interesting.

“You going home over the break?” Clayton’s voice breaks through my thoughts. He leans forward, folding his arms across his textbook and forcing himself into my line of sight.

“My family’s actually coming here,” I reply, setting my phone down. “They’ve never been to Vancouver. You?”

An excited jitter goes through me at the promise of seeing my family. Homesickness has been my constant companion since September, curled up against my belly right beside Ethel.