HSP

“Guardians of the watchtower of the East, I do summon, stir and call upon you to protect us in this rite. Breathe into us the spirit of the true joy of life.”

“Guardians of the watchtower of the South, I do summon, stir and call upon you to protect us in this rite. Kindle within us the spirit of spiritual awakening.”

“Guardians of the watchtower of the West, I do summon, stir and call upon you to protect us in this rite. Water our deepest roots, so that we may find peace of mind.”

Then there was a long silence. I opened my eyes to see three women, their hands clasped, silhouettes framed by velvet curtains, faces softly illuminated by candlelight and turned expectantly in my direction. 

“Oh, my turn? Uh, ok,” I stammered. What was my direction again? Never. Eat. Soggy. Waffles. Well, in this case Eat. Soggy. Waffles. Never.  

“Guardians of the North, I call on you… to…”

Everything I knew about directions and elements dropped suddenly out of my head, leaving a cold, empty space where my brain should be. The others’ faces were beginning to harden in that familiar way that I knew masked annoyance. But the more I tried to recover my balance, the faster panic began to set in. My pulse pounded in my ears and dizziness overtook me. Not now! I begged. 

Too late.

Hurry up, I need to pee! 

She is so awkward, I KNEW we shouldn’t have-

What idiot doesn’t know that North is Earth?

“GUARDians of the North” I began again, too loud. The voices around me mercifully stilled, though the staring continued. I cleared my throat.

“Watchtower of the Earth, I call on you… to… ground us in this rite. Me especially,” I added with a nervous chuckle, glancing around at my compatriots. West subtly crossed her legs. 

East impatiently pulled her hand out of mine, breaking the circle, and raised her arms to the ceiling. Billowing sleeves slid down to her elbows to reveal skin covered in intricate blackwork tattoos.

“I conceive this circle as a place of contemplation and protection, blessed by the Goddess. So mote it be!”

“So mote it be,” the others echoed. 

“So mm hmm hmm,” I mumbled behind them. 

West rushed out of the room in a whirl of honey blonde braids. The rest of us settled on velvet cushions scattered around the center of the floor. I stroked the fabric absentmindedly as I gazed around the room, observing solemn portraits hung on creamy plaster walls, lush houseplants tucked into corners, and a mantlepiece tastefully arranged with crystal and gold implements.

“So you’ve never been part of a coven before?” East interrupted my reverie. “Or so I assume.” 

South rested her face in her hand, tapping her cheek with shining black acrylics, awaiting my reply. 

“This would be my first one, yes” I said, forcing a cheeriness into my voice. 

“So why are you here?” South asked, looking me up and down. I suddenly wished I’d changed into something black.

“Is it about that thing you did before?”

The others turned to look at West, who was now perched cross legged on a turquoise cushion behind them. Neither of them had noticed her return; come to think of it, neither had I.

“What thing?” East snapped.

“The…” she tapped the side of her head. “You know.”

 South rolled her eyes and exchanged a smirk with East. Keisha shot them a dirty look.

Why do they always do that?

I heard the thought and, before I could stop myself, offered a sympathetic glance in response. Keisha’s eyes widened and she jabbed her finger at me.

“Ah hah!” she exclaimed. “You did it just now, didn’t you?”

Reeling at this sudden validation, I realized I might not be insane after all. When I could speak again I asked,

“Do you know how to make it stop?”

“Stop?” She looked at me questioningly. 

I laughed, holding back the tears threatening to escape my eyes. “It’s torture.”

“What the fuck are you two even talking about?” demanded East. 

“Shut up, Abigail.” 

East huffed. “It’s Isis.”

“Are you Egyptian?” Keisha shot back, “I thought your great-grandparents came over on the Mayflower.”

“They did!” Abigail insisted. 

Keisha held out a hand as if to say, well there you go. Abigail smoothed down her hair with a pout. Keisha turned back to me. 

“So you’re a telepath.”

“My therapist calls it being a highly sensitive person.” 

Keisha laughed. “Your therapist would call it that.”

“You know telepathy isn’t real, right? It’s just in the movies,” Abigail proclaimed disdainfully.

South also spoke up. “If you’re a telepath, then what shape am I thinking of right now?” She leaned back on her hands and narrowed her eyes as if daring me to guess. 

“That’s not really how it works,” I offered lamely. “I only…” I trailed off, staring down at the floor.

Overhear the nasty things people think about you?

My head shot up. Keisha was gazing at me with something like pity. Was I imagining it or had she-

Yes bitch, I did, she smirked. 

Abigail had been tolerating this nonsensical conversation for quite long enough, thank you. She stood up and crossed resolutely to the doorway. “Well, Callie, it’s been great meeting you, but we’re going to need to discuss amongst ourselves whether or not it feels like a good fit.” 

Which she is obviously not. Freak.

My heart, a thing which I had retrieved and smoothed out many times before, was once again crumpled and tossed in the trash. Tensing my jaw to keep my face from betraying emotion, I rose to go.

Keisha rose too, dark eyes boring holes into Abigail’s. 

“I don’t remember anyone appointing you the leader of this coven,” she began softly.

Abigail stared defiantly back. “I might as well be. Lilly doesn’t want it, and you-” She stopped herself, pursing her lips.

Keisha’s mouth smiled, but her eyes didn’t follow. “Me, what? Why don’t you just go ahead and say it? I see you two giggling and making faces at each other whenever I talk. So say it.”

Abigail snorted incredulously. “You’re reading into it, there’s nothing to say!”

“Callie, since Abigail is too cowardly to tell me how she really feels, I’m gonna need you to check.”

I froze, eyes wide.

“It doesn’t- I can’t-”

You can’t? 

Keisha turned to look at me. I saw the pain etched in her face, carved deep by every moment of disrespect or turning away. I set my jaw and wincing, sputtered,

“She says that you’re weird and probably mentally unstable and that the only reason you’re still here is because three are more powerful than two.” 

What had just happened? Before I had time to consider it, Abigail whirled on me, rage painted across her face. I took half a step back.

Keisha shook her head. “That’s what I thought.” 

She sighed, and with a wry grin added, “Well, good luck getting anything done without me. I was trying to spare your feelings, but neither of you can do magic for shit.”

Then she slammed the door. 

“Crazy bitch!” Abigail shouted after her.

I stood frozen in this room which no longer seemed quite as impressive as it had before. The shimmer over everything had dissipated, leaving it all feeling a little dirty and old. Lilly still sat on her cushion, looking blankly at the wall. Abigail sat down heavily beside her and leaned her head on her shoulder.

Anxiety swelled up inside me like helium in a balloon, and I began to drift toward the door.

“I’m gonna go- I hope you… have a good weekend?”

Then I bolted.

When I burst through the door into the crisp air of dusk, I took a shaky breath. My head felt stuffed with cotton and slightly achy. I flung one leg over my bicycle seat and was about to kick off when a wave of dizziness washed over me. I set my foot back on the concrete and decided to walk.

As I rounded the block, I spied a figure leaning against a car on the curb. It was obviously Keisha. I seriously considered walking back the way I had come, but she had already seen me. I very casually wheeled my bike up as she quickly wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

“Hey,” I muttered and nodded as I began to pass.

“Thanks for backing me up in there,” Keisha said. Reluctantly, I stopped.

“No problemo,” I replied, cringing even as the words left my mouth.

We looked at each other.

“Well, goodnight,” I chirped, giving a tight little wave, desperate to escape before my social skills failed completely. Keisha returned my wave, wearing an inscrutable expression.

“Night,” she said.

Despite my rush, I was too close and too tired to avoid overhearing her as I walked away.

She must think I’m crazy too. 

The thought hit me between the shoulder blades, stunning me into stillness. I turned to see Keisha circling the car and opening the driver’s side door. After a brief internal struggle I stunned myself by calling out, 

“Hey, do you want to go get a drink or something?”

Keisha paused, hand still on the latch, and finally smiled.

“Yeah.”