The girl shakes her head but is smiling. She says, “Gab? Is it you? You can transform?”
“What! What are you talking about? Have you been drinking? Where is that boy?” And he gets up and goes out of the room and a few seconds later Gab comes in. He’s wearing the same clothes—Dad’s things that he’s borrowed.
“Do it again,” the girl says.
“What?” Gab asks, but he’s grinning from ear to ear.
• • •
Gab is brilliant. His Gift is fantastic—I really couldn’t see anything in his transformation that wasn’t perfect.
And he doesn’t need to read this diary to know that I think he’s wonderful and he deserves to have a great life and meet the most gorgeous boy of his dreams and live happily ever after. He’s a great witch.
Dear Michèle,
You’re wonderful too.
Gabriel
29th April, 2013
I’m sleeping outside on the roof, waiting for Gab to come back. I’ve hardly seen him since he found his Gift. He’s hanging around with Aiden a lot, I think, but I don’t know because I’m not invited. Sometimes I hate him.
30th April, 2013
And he’s not looked in my diary even though it’s open on the sofa.
1st May, 2013
Cooked dinner for Gab but there is no Gab. Do I sound like a housewife or a mother? At least Dad was here to not eat the dinner I’d made.
1st May, 2013—STILL!!!!!
Sitting on the roof, counting stars. Feeling lonely. Actually a bit worried about Gab.
Michèle,
I just went into town and around to see what was happening. I’m back now, safe and sound.
Gabriel
Dear GabRIEL,
“and around”—where exactly is that?
M
2nd May, 2013
Gab’s disappeared again.
M,
I’m very much alive and well. Had to go out again. Sorry to annoy you/worry you.
Gabriel
Dear Gabriel,
You are not forgiven.
M
5th May, 2013
Skylar came round this morning when Dad (the real one) and I were having breakfast. She asked if Gab was home. He wasn’t and I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning.
Skylar said, “I’m sure he’s fine,” in a way that made me sure she thought he wasn’t, and I realized then where “and around” is: Gab’s been going onto White territory. The only thing I wasn’t sure of was if Skylar was here to tell him off or check he’d survived.
I asked her, “Did you send Gab to Tampa?”
Skylar said, “He’s been helping Aiden.”
“How exactly?”
She didn’t answer but got up and said, “He went into Tampa and was supposed to report back to Aiden at midnight.”
“So he’s been missing for eight hours!”
Skylar just said, “Gabriel’s very good. I’m sure he’s safe.” And then she left.
Dad didn’t say or do anything!
I wasn’t sure if I should just wait at home, but after an hour I couldn’t stand it so I went into town to look for Gab or Aiden or someone. Luckily I saw a Half Blood and he took me to Aiden, who was in a wood on the other side of town, waiting for Gab to return. It was a sort of makeshift shooting range, though Aiden was throwing knives when I arrived. Gab says that’s Aiden’s Gift—an unusual one, but he throws things incredibly far and incredibly accurately. Aiden told me that Gab had gone into Tampa to “check things out” and hadn’t come back. It was “as simple as that,” he said. But when I asked exactly who or what he was checking out and why, Aiden wouldn’t say more than “the Whites.” And I had this awful feeling that I would lose Gab like I’d lost Mum and I ended up shouting at Aiden and storming off, but I didn’t know the way back home and Aiden picked me up in his car and brought me back. On the drive back he said a little more: that Gab had been into Tampa “most days” and Gab was “the best” and “no one’ll see through his disguise” and “he knows Tampa real well, knows the places to avoid” and all I can think is that if all that’s true why isn’t he back?
6th May, 2013
Gab was here at breakfast. I shouted at him.
He didn’t shout back (he’s always so infuriatingly calm). So I threw bread and a plate and the butter dish at him. He laughed—yes, he laughed. Then I started crying, and I hit him when he tried to hold me, but he still held me and said he was sorry. He’s been going to Tampa every day, disguised as a fain, and spying on the White Witches. He said, “Aiden asked me to check up on some of the key White Witches, but there isn’t much to report. There’s nothing happening really.” And then he explained that last night he was invited to a fain pool party so he went and the party was great and carried on till morning. And we were all worried he’d been killed!
AND he wouldn’t promise not to go again.
8th May, 2013
I saw Aiden today. He came here, said he wanted to check that I was OK. Said he was sorry that I’d been so upset about Gab and that he’d been pretty angry about it too. I told him I threw plates at Gab and he said he might try that next time.
He’s 22 and I’m 16—is 6 years too much?
I thought you didn’t like him? Are you teasing me?
SIX YEARS IS FAR TOO MUCH. DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT AIDEN.
Gabriel
Gab,
But he came round to see me. Spoke to me. Spent time with me. If only you were home to keep me company then I wouldn’t have time for Aiden, but I know you love going into Tampa all the time.
M x
I won’t go into Tampa and I’ll keep you company.
Gabriel
Gab,
M
23rd August, 2013
It is seriously hot here. Gab and I have been at the beach for months. I’ve been swimming and sunbathing and reading (and too lazy to write in my diary). We’re as brown as berries and as happy as Larry (whoever he is). Aiden has been visiting me occasionally, but Gab is always with me and fends him off. Aiden isn’t as bad or heartless as I first thought, but I’m not interested in him. I’ve got to know a few other boys at the beach and I’m not interested in them either. I keep thinking of Sam—Golden Boy—and I’ve had an idea . . . I’ll write Sam a letter (doing it the old-fashioned way). I’ll have to send it to the Bean Counter, but the good thing about a letter is that I can work out how to properly explain things and not mess it up like when we last spoke on the phone.
25th August, 2013
It took four drafts of the letter before I was happy with it, but I do think it’s rather good in the end. I did have to tell Sam one little lie as to why I hadn’t been to see him and of course I could say nothing witch-related, but I talked a lot about how I missed him. I read it over to Caitlin and she said it was perfect. She’s going to take it to Sam at the coffee shop; she’s dying to see what he looks like.
26th August, 2013
Caitlin said Sam wasn’t at work yesterday when she dropped the letter off. I put my address on it so he could write back to me, but now I’m nervous that he won’t ever reply.
27th August, 2013
I’m not going to the beach as I’m waiting for the postman.
• • •
The postman has walked straight past our house.
28th August, 2013
I am a pathetic postman-stalking person. Still no reply!
29th August, 2013
I’ve received a letter! Haven’t dared open it yet . . .
• • •
Gosh and wow! Sam is soooooo nice. He’s fantastic at writing letters. He says lots about how he’s been thinking about me every day and hoping I’ll come to see him. How he looks at the door of the Bean Counter when it rattles, hoping it’s me walking back into his life, b
ut it never is. And he feels a fool for thinking I didn’t want to see him and he’s so sorry about my broken leg (the reason I’ve not been to see him, which I think is a reasonable lie in the circumstances). But the lie isn’t going to stand the test of time. Although at the moment I’m still too “fragile” to go and see Sam, I can’t really get him to visit me without him seeing my leg isn’t actually broken. And a broken leg will heal—but very slowly. I have to admit my long-term plan here was not well thought out! I did consider saying I had a contagious disease, but that just sounded too far-fetched (and a bit gross).
Anyway, one letter at a time, and I need to write back.
13th September, 2013
I can’t write properly—my hand is shaking and I’m crying again. I keep telling myself that it’s not all bad news and I think I knew, subconsciously, all along, but I’m still shaking and crying.
Sam and I’ve been sending letters every few days for the last two weeks. I avoided inviting him to see me and I did notice that he never offered to come over here. Then today Caitlin delivered my letter and stuck around to see my mystery Golden Boy for herself. She recognized him straightaway. She knows who his family is and who—and what—he is: A WHITE WITCH!
And I don’t care. Well, I do care. And really it’s great that he’s a witch, but I so want him to be a Black Witch and I know it shouldn’t matter. And that’s what I said to Caitlin when she told me. I said, “It doesn’t matter to me. He think I’m a fain and so maybe we can . . .”
Then Caltlin said, “It sort of came out in the conversation that you’re a Black Witch.”
So he knows what I am too. He’s written me another letter, which Caitlin’s brought. I’ve not read it yet. I’m too scared. If he’s sensible (and he is a White Witch after all) then he’ll want to stop our letters and have nothing more to do with me. I hope he doesn’t hate me.
14th September, 2013
Still crying. Still haven’t opened Sam’s letter
16th September, 2013
Read Sam’s letter last night. It set me off shaking and crying all over because he says he doesn’t care what I am or what he is, except that we’re friends and he likes me and will write to me again if I want him to. He’s also pleased that my leg isn’t broken.
I must stop crying so I can write him another letter.
30th September, 2013
Not writing much in my diary because I’m so busy writing letters! Sam and I are sending them to each other every day. (Caitlin is acting as our personal, rather busy postmistress.) The letters are even better and much, much longer than before, as now we can be honest and tell each other things about our lives. I’ve told him all about Mum and Dad, Finn and Nan. I’ve told him about Gab, but not about Gab’s Gift or what he’s been doing on White territory. But I was honest about not telling him all that. I said there were some things I couldn’t share and he said the same about his brother.
We’ve spoken once on the phone, but I really need to see him—although I can’t see how to do that at the moment.
I’m also hiding my diary from Gab—if he sees this he’ll flip.
21st October, 2013
Skylar’s been round. She was angling for an invite to my Giving. I told her that I was having a small, private ceremony—just me, Gab, and Dad. She didn’t look too impressed but said, “I understand. But there are few Givings among us.”
I had been thinking that it would be good to meet some of the other Black Witches around here but I do want a small ceremony, so I said, “We could have a gathering afterward—a bonfire in the backyard.”
Gab looked at me and raised his eyebrows.
I said, “How hard can it be to organize a few drinks? Can you let everyone know, Skylar?”
“Sure can.”
31st October, 2013
We’re getting ready for my Giving tomorrow. Dad gave me a dress of Mum’s. He said, “She wore it for her Giving. And she wanted you to wear it for yours.”
The dress is cream silk and figure-hugging to just below my knees but it’s not super tight—not too sexy but not girly. I tried it on to show Dad and Gab. Dad cried, and Gab’s eyes filled with tears and he said, “You look like Mum.”
1st November, 2013
Everything’s fantastic. Hardly any time to write as people are arriving for the gathering. I’ve had my Giving—I am a witch!!!!
It’s the best day of my life.
2nd November, 2013
Yesterday was amazing. AMAZING!!!!
So the Giving was like this. Dad, Gab, and I walked down to the beach. It wasn’t quite sunset, but not far off, and there was a breeze so Gab put his jacket round me. Gab looked gorgeous in a crisp white shirt and dark trousers (not jeans). Dad was very smart too. I was nervous (that I might mess up or Dad might mess up). I don’t have any shoes to go with the dress and was barefoot, which we all agreed was best.
On the beach Dad had his back to the ocean and Gab stood next to me. Dad did the whole thing really formally and he was totally sober, not a whiff of booze on him at all.
Dad said, “This is a special day, the most important in your life, Michèle. You are now seventeen and on the cusp of a great change from a young whet to a true adult witch. Since the day you were born I have looked forward to seeing you take your first steps in discovering who you really are. Your innermost self will be revealed through your Gift.
“Michèle, I have three gifts for you, and I give them to you now so that you can receive your true Gift.”
And he held out first a silver charm bracelet of Mum’s. He placed it in my hand. Then he gave me another bracelet, a thick silver chain that was his and had been his father’s. This was super special because I thought there was only one of these and Gab got it on his Giving, but I have one now too. And then he gave me a leather and silver bangle, from Gabriel.
Gab held out a knife, which Dad took. Dad cut the palm of his hand on the fleshy bit beneath the thumb and held his hand out to me. My hands were shaking a little as I took his hand and brought it to my mouth.
Dad said, “Drink my blood, Michèle. Accept my blood and the blood of our family so that you can become a true witch.”
I sucked on his hand and Dad stepped close to me and put his arm round me, whispering strange words in my ear. And I’m so glad he held me because my knees felt like they might give way. When he’d finished we stood like that for a while, with his arm round me. He whispered, “Michèle, you’re a true witch.”
I started to cry.
I looked over to Gab and he was grinning like mad but he had tears in his eyes. I’m sure we were all thinking that Mum should have been there, that she should have performed my Giving.
• • •
Then it was time for the bonfire in the backyard. There were over a hundred people here! All the Black Witches from the area came, including Skylar and Aiden, of course. I kept my eye on Dad, who was looking genuinely proud and had a glass of ORANGE JUICE in his hand most of the evening.
Aiden gave me a present—a necklace of pink quartz beads with a thin silver crescent hanging from it (the phase of the moon in the sky that evening, as he pointed out). Caitlin got me something too—a bracelet (cream pearls tied with a pink ribbon—do I strike everyone as a “pink” girl?). She said, “I can’t stay. I just wanted to say congratulations.” As she left I saw that people were staring at her and not in a good way. I realized that Skylar hadn’t invited any of the Half Bloods. The Black community uses the half Blacks but doesn’t want to socialize with them.
13th November, 2013
Dad is cooking! He’s making lamb curry, which is not a traditional French recipe (obviously) but something Mum used to do. I don’t think he’s had a drink since my Giving. Skylar has bought two paintings from him and is trying to help him get a commission from some fains she knows. We need it—we’re really broke (as ever).
Sam and I
are writing to each other still. I told him about my Giving and he told me about his. He was 17 in January, although he looks and acts much older. He’s just found out that his Gift is potions. He says he’s not that great at them—his coffee-making skills are better.
28th December, 2013
OMG!!!!
I’ve found my Gift.
Obviously every day since my Giving I’ve tried to find out what it is. I’ve tried: throwing flames (like Nan); running fast; mind-reading; seeing into the future; and, I admit, the one we all want—flying. In fact I’ve tried all the Gifts I’ve heard of and every day I’ve stood in front of the mirror and tried to change my appearance, to transform like Gab does. But whatever I tried—nothing happened.
Then this morning I was in the bathroom and I picked up Gab’s razor and thought about what it would be like to shave. And that was it: I could feel myself transform. My whole head was changing shape—into Gab—and it hurt, like my head was in a vice, but within a minute I was looking in the mirror at Gab with stubble. I started to shave and found I was laughing and then I turned back into me.
Gab was in the kitchen and I asked him, “Does it hurt when you transform?”
“A little.”
“A little or a lot?”
“Not a lot, but . . . it’s uncomfortable for the time it takes to change.”
“And afterward? Do you get a buzz, a good feeling, when you’ve transformed back?”
“A little.” He looked at me and smiled. “You’ve got the same Gift?”