Page 58 of Reckless Witch

I can’t prove it, but I know he’s not talking about Jennifer.

“Look, I’ve gotten flak from the students who believe the lies about Grams and think I’m like her. I’m not, you know.”

“I know,” he says in a gentle voice.

“I mean, Grams isn’t like that, and neither am I.”

“Will you settle for me believing you’re not a black witch?” he asks. “At least for the moment?”

Before I reply, he slows, his attention on something to my left. I look and spot a girl, about fourteen or fifteen, with head bowed, seated on a bench half-hidden by sculpted bushes. Blade cups my elbow and veers toward the girl. We near her and she looks up, eyes moist and red rimmed. Has she been bullied like the thirteen-year-old? Blade’s hold on my elbow tightens slightly and he brings us to a stop, then steps past me to the girl. She swipes at her eyes, clearly embarrassed, and jumps to her feet.

She starts to hurry past him, but he grasps her arm. “What’s wrong, Alisha?”

Wow, he knows her name. Does he know all the students by name?

She keeps her head low. “Nothing, sir.”

He gives a gentle laugh. “I’m not one of the paid instructors here. You can call me Blade. Now tell me, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she insists, and I understand exactly what’s wrong.

“It’s hard being way from home, isn’t it?” I say.

She looks up in surprise. “I’m not a baby.”

I shake my head. “Of course not. Missing your family doesn’t make you a baby. I miss mine.”

Her brows furrow. “But you’re old.”

Blade dips his head, but I glimpse the smile on his mouth.

“That’s my point,” I tell her. “Age has nothing to do with missing your family. I miss mine a lot.”

“Does your mom know how to cook oatmeal the way you like it, too?”

Bittersweet sorrow squeezes my heart at the memory of Grams’ soft, home baked cinnamon rolls, sure to appear on particularly gloomy days.

I smile at the girl. “I never knew my mom. Want to know who my family is?”

Alisha nods.

“My familiar. She’s a pig.”

Her mouth falls open. “A pig? Really? That is so cool.”

I laugh. “It is. And it’s me who cooks for her. She has a weakness for Chinese food.”

“She’s got good taste.”

I lean in and whisper conspiratorially, “But Stony eats only veggie Chinese food, and I’m not allowed to eat anything with pork.”

“Of course not,” Alisha says with gravity. “That would be like cannibalism.”

“Exactly.” I release a sigh. “I miss her a lot.”

Alisha touches my shoulder. “It’s okay. She loves you and you’ll be together soon.”

I’m touched by her kindness and will away the tears that press the backs of my eyes. “When I see her, maybe I can introduce you,” I say.