Page 54 of Uncharmed

‘Rom, come on...’

Annie thought for one brief moment that a flash of something more passed behind Romily’s brown eyes, but it was gone before she could even register it.

‘If you don’t keep up, you get left behind,’ Romily said coldly.

‘And you are trailing so far, far behind us all now, Annie. This...’ – she gestured to the space across the room between them – ‘...well, I’m starting to wonder whether it’s working any more. ’

Vivienne spoke over her. ‘Ruby’s time is up, Wildwood. Careful you don’t go the same way.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘The longer you remain on that side of the room, the longer we over here forget why it is exactly that you’re still hanging by a thread of second, third and fourth chances,’ Vivienne said.

‘I didn’t...I...I’m sorry.’

Annie could hear somebody apologizing with a quiet stutter, but none of them seemed to be talking.

Romily’s mouth was tightly sealed, Vivienne’s brows were raised, Harm was distracted by her own reflection in the mirror opposite.

It must be her own mouth; somehow she was the one apologizing.

She was still saying sorry, atoning for the constant, blithe betrayal.

The impulse was carved into her after all these years.

But, for the first time, she realized with fresh, furious clarity that she didn’t mean a word of it.

‘It’s okay, Annie. You’re always making so many silly mistakes, we’re used to it,’ Romily said gently. She stretched out an arm towards Annie, encouraging her to take her hand. ‘Let’s head back. We’re missing the party!’

‘C’mon, Annie, come and dance!’ Harmony leapt across the room to tug at Annie’s arm, but it fell limply to her side. Harmony returned to the pack like an uncertain animal.

‘The party,’ Annie nodded slowly, contemplating how everything could still be unfolding as normal just beyond the bathroom, while her whole intricate belief system fell apart.

‘You want to return to the party. You want to pretend that everything is still perfect?’ The volume of her voice rose of its own accord, until she was yelling by the end of the question.

Her hands flew up to her mouth, as though trying to cram the words back in.

The earthquake sensation of her real, visceral anger and hurt felt so volatile, so unpredictable, and it seemed to be showing itself as such.

Her shout made Harmony, Vivienne and Romily start, their brows shooting up to match one another.

They shot each other an uncertain side-glance, unsure of the direction things were taking.

Annie reached for her composure and slipped it back on carefully like a silk robe. With a closed-eyed, serene breath, she returned her voice to softness. ‘Why have you kept me around all these years?’

Romily giggled, then rolled her eyes when Annie didn’t join in. ‘I don’t know what you could possibly mean. You’re acting crazy. Imagining things.’ As she shrugged, the glitter of her gown winked beautifully in the low lighting.

‘I can’t keep pretending that all of this is normal and okay,’ Annie said. ‘Keep pretending that you’re not going to do the same to me as you have to Ruby, as soon as I put a foot wrong. Pretending, pretending, pretending. I can’t do it any more.’

She looked up at Romily with pleading eyes. There had to be a sign that the girl she’d once known was still in there somewhere.

‘Everyone else seems okay. Why are you the only one who’s upset?

We love you, Annie. You know that.’ Romily reached out to hold her hand again, more insistent this time.

Annie stared at it blankly, as though her own body part was disconnected from her.

She willed her heart to sing as it normally would when Romily showed her any care.

She willed it to feel better in that familiar, easy way. But this time it didn’t.

‘You’re going to get rid of me, too, aren’t you? When I refuse to help with whatever’s going on with your mother and her fascination with Maeve Cadmus.’

Silence fell.

‘Ah, and the penny drops into the cauldron with an almighty thunk ,’ Vivienne said with an eye-roll.

‘Viv,’ Romily said with a warning tone.

‘Oh, give it up, Romily. I’m sick of this preening, pathetic conversation when there’s a dancefloor full of warlocks waiting to be played with.’

Annie tried again, fists clenched. ‘What does your mother want with her?’

Vivienne glared. ‘You’d do well to ask fewer questions, Wildwood. The Sorciety has an exceptional talent for making people...vanish, should they stop proving useful.’ Annie faltered. ‘Heard from Mummy recently?’ Vivienne asked, a fraction quieter, letting the leading question linger in the air.

Romily walked to the sink and slid herself up onto the countertop, gliding like water, then turned back to the mirror. She began to fix her tiara with a glimmer of magic. ‘Annie, don’t ask questions that you don’t want to know the answer to, babe.’

‘Tell me!’ Annie shouted again.

Romily flinched, but this time she shouted back.

‘I don’t know, okay?’ She leapt to her feet again and approached Annie slowly, as though creeping up on prey.

‘For one reason or another, my mother is utterly fascinated with you and your little loser friend. And yet here you are, even still, desperately flapping around in circles. Poor me, poor me! That’s just like you to be so selfish! ’

Romily’s pouring confession was so sudden and forceful.

Every word that came from these three witches was so weaponized, that the gentle quiet that filled the bathroom afterwards felt ill-fitting, incomplete.

Annie supposed that this must be the space her anger was supposed to fill, but even then she couldn’t summon it fully.

It was like an engine that needed jump-starting, but she didn’t have the strength.

Perhaps because she knew it was pointless, because this was always going to be the outcome sooner or later.

She had known that, one day, she would take a wrong turn on her carefully laid course and uncover ugly, indisputable proof that none of these people truly cared for her.

That none of them ever considered her further than what she might be able to provide in a one-sided exchange.

She did her best not to be selfish, to never say no – even when she really, really wanted to.

And all it had resulted in was being liked as far as she could be used.

She was only ever what she could provide to them.

Romily, Vivienne, Harmony, Cressida, the Sorciety. ..None of them loved her.

But there were others who did. She was lucky enough that that was true.

‘I wish it hadn’t taken this long for me to realize it,’ Annie said to herself.

‘Realize what?’ Vivienne said stroppily, jutting a knee as though she were bored.

Annie inhaled a small laugh. ‘There is no amount of perfect in the world to please you, is there?’

The confession strung itself in the dim light like a constellation. Once she held it up in place, it shone brighter. She could see it there in front of her, the words real and important.

‘You will never, ever know how high I tried to leap for you. All of you. You existed on pedestals for me, while I laid down and let you trample the parts of me that deserved to be up there just as much as you did. And why? For what? To feel as though there are wild dogs nipping at my heels for the rest of my life? As though one little trip or stumble will end the race and see me savaged?’

‘Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?’ Romily snarled.

‘Dramatic?’ Annie said calmly, a new glitter in her eyes.

The silence cascaded again as though someone had thrown a sheet of silk above them, the perfect quiet billowing.

And, of all the times and places to think of in that moment, Annie found her mind rewinding back to her walk in the woods with Maeve, when they had been searching for Karma.

She knew what Maeve – clever, strong Maeve – would want her to do.

‘Be careful what you wish for, Romily.’

Annie took a deep breath. She balled up her fists, threw back her head and felt a noise erupt from her so brilliantly and wildly that it could have ripped her throat raw.

She screamed, really screamed. Her rage scorched, a siren wail that was horrid and high-pitched, oscillating and.

..fantastic. Imperfect, ugly and free.

Before she could stop it, her magic reflected it all back from inside her to out.

Intensity like this erupting from a witch would always show itself in her powers, too.

Annie was volcanic, her magic white-hot and scalding.

The stuff crackled between her fingertips as she screamed.

Before she could even process or control the need to stop it, magic flew from her palms in blasts of kinetic energy.

It had been pent up inside her, held under for so long that it was fit to burst as it came up to the surface.

This was a lifetime of trying. The mirrored walls of the room cracked just as her voice did and then burst into shards.

Ribbons of glass cascaded through the air. Romily, Vivienne and Harmony flung their arms over their heads to take cover from the blast. Annie buckled, running out of breath, eyes streaming and hair wild as she stumbled against the bathroom wall.

Eventually, the last piece of glass tinkled unsteadily, then tumbled onto its side with a final note.

That was enough.

Annie inhaled deeply and a small, shy smile tugged up one side of her lips.

She let out a satisfied sigh. ‘That felt good.’

Romily carefully rose to her feet, a disgusted, thunderous look in her eyes as she stumbled in her broken heels and ruined, shredded dress.

‘Ew!’ Harmony shouted.

‘You lunatic!’ Vivienne screeched.

‘You could have killed me, Annie!’ Romily yelled, livid.

‘Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic, darling?’ Annie asked, smiling. ‘It’s just a little bit of a mess. You can fix this one for yourselves.’