Chapter Three

The sun slanted in through my half-open blinds. Wincing at the bright light, I rubbed my temples and eased myself to a sitting position in bed. A wave of nausea rolled through my stomach as the events of the night before came back to me.

I swung my legs over the side of my bed, tucking my tousled hair behind my ears. Then, pushing myself up, I shuffled over to the window and snapped the blinds all the way closed. I heaved a deep sigh as the harsh light was muted.

After Jimmy and Roxy had rescued me, we’d left the party. On the drive home, they’d wanted to know what had happened with Luke, of course. I’d told them it was all part of Trisha’s weird game, but I didn’t miss the worried look that passed between them. They’d both known me for a long time. They knew when I wasn’t telling the whole truth and both of them had been ready to kick Luke’s ass. I’d assured them that I was okay and had every intention of steering clear of him. Finally, they’d dropped it, but I could tell they weren’t going to let it go. It had been a relief to be alone again in my room.

I’d had a restless night, replaying my warped conversation with Luke over and over again. His insistence that I’d performed some sort of witchcraft on him when we had been kids was insane, as was his story about Mom sending his father into a painting—my painting. It was beyond crazy. But his voice kept echoing in my head.

‘You Parsons witches can send people anywhere you want.’

My hands trembled slightly as I pulled my hair back in a ponytail. He was mad, a psycho just out of juvie. And yet, as I pulled on jeans and a sweater, I felt a flicker of uncertainty. Maybe he was deranged, but I couldn’t deny the dizzy spells I’d experienced lately—dizzy spells that came over me when I couldn’t control my emotions. There was a strange pull that came with those dark emotions, the pull of wanting to be somewhere else. A grief like I had never known was taking over at unexpected moments. It was getting harder and harder to find my equilibrium.

I lay back down on my bed. I didn’t know what was real anymore, and I didn’t want to think about Luke or the dizzy spells. If I could get back to sleep, I could shut off my brain. Turning onto my side, I closed my eyes and willed myself to fall asleep. But I kept seeing the teddy bear in my mind, floating against that blue-and-white background that I could only assume was the sky.

What did it mean? Why did that specific image stand out sharply in my mind?

I opened my eyes, my gaze wandering. It fell on the bookshelf across from my bed. A thick photo album was wedged onto the bottom shelf—one of Mom’s old albums. Because she’d left it at Aunt Karen’s one day, it hadn’t been destroyed in the fire with all the others.

I hadn’t looked at it in a long time, but I knew there were some early photographs of me and Nick in there. If I had really played with Luke as a kid, maybe Mom or Dad had snapped a picture of him. They’d taken photos of everything when I was growing up.

Before I knew what I was doing, I’d slid the album out and laid it on the bed. I paused with my hand on the cover. Did I really want the memories of Mom and Nick coming back again? I needed to forget how happy my life had once been. It only caused me pain to relive it, and the last thing I needed was to have feelings clouding my judgement, making the world a blurry place. But I was too curious to see if Luke was in the album. I just needed a quick look. Maybe something would jog my memory.

I flipped through the first several pages. There were old photos that had captured me first as a baby, then as a toddler. Dad had taken most of those early ones, so Mom was with me in a great many of the shots. I couldn’t help pausing at one in particular when I was about two. Mom was holding me in her lap, and we wore identical smiles. It sent a pang through my heart. Everyone always said how much I looked like her, with our dark hair and olive skin. Everyone commented on how much alike we were—neat, organized, calm and steady.

There weren’t any pictures of Luke, but there were several of Nick, starting when he’d moved onto Ennis Avenue. I’d meant to put the album away if Luke wasn’t in it, but as I turned the pages and saw me and Nick grow up through the pictures, I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the tall boy with the crooked smile and caramel-brown eyes—the caring, strong-willed boy who I had loved with all my heart.

A lump lodged in my throat like a rock. I closed the album with a snap. When I got up to return it to the shelf, a loose photo fell from between the pages and fluttered to the floor. I picked it up. My eyes locked onto an image of me, Mom and Nick standing in front of the house on Ennis Avenue.

It had been taken the day of our junior high graduation, a moment snapped by a neighbor. We posed on the front walkway, smiling happily. Nick stood behind me, his hands resting on my shoulders. He had on a grey suit and burgundy tie while I wore a white cotton dress and a silk scarf. Mom stood to one side of me, leaning in close, her arm around Nick. The June twilight swirled around us in shades of deep lavender and burnished gold. The branches of the maple tree that overhung the walk curled over our heads, fragrant green leaves sprouting from its dangling fingers. The house rose up behind us, its grand peaks partially obscured by the lengthening shadows, its coat of butter yellow still shining in the circle of the setting sun. Lights winked from the windows, warm and inviting.

After the graduation ceremony, Nick’s parents had hosted a party for us at their house. I didn’t remember much about the party itself. In my mind, it was overshadowed by those fleeting moments at the end of the night, when he’d walked me home and kissed me for the first time.

Since he lived just down the street from me, it had been a short walk from his house to mine. But we’d lingered on the sidewalk in the breezy June air, chatting about the graduation and making plans for the summer ahead. When he put his hand in mine, my stomach turned topsy-turvy. Then, when we stopped at my front door, he leaned over and pressed his lips to mine, catching me by surprise. The kiss was brief, but soft and warm, and sent my heart into overdrive. When he pulled back, he looked at me as if I were the only person in the world.

I’d stepped into the house that night feeling as though I was walking on air.

Now I put a hand to my lips. There’d been at least a hundred more moments like that, stolen kisses on the street where we’d grown up together.

I set down the album, my eyes still on the picture. All I had now were memories.

I straightened, alarmed to find that my eyes were damp again. I slipped the photo back in the album and slammed it shut.

But it was already too late.

The tears began to flow freely down my face and shuddering sobs racked my body as the dam burst. My centre was utterly and completely gone. Everything I’d been holding back poured out of me. I cried for all I had lost, for the unfairness of it all. I cried because I was angry, because I was sad and because I was afraid.

Again, I was struck by the burning need to escape everything.

Wisps of black danced across my vision. My head ached, and my sobs were cut off as I let out a cry of pain. I closed my eyes against the dizzying sensation. As soon as I did, they were sealed shut. I tried to open them again, but they wouldn’t budge. All I could see was the darkness of my eyelids, writhing with spots of orange. I remained in that blind state for what seemed like forever.

Then a fresh breeze caressed my face and ruffled my hair. The smell of fragrant grass reached my nostrils.

Finally, I was able to open my eyes. I gasped.

In the spot where my bed should have been was a doorway, only it wasn’t a real doorway with a wooden frame. It was more like a shimmering rectangle that floated in front of me, a rectangle that was awash with swirling color—pale blue, rich greens and vivid red. It was a palette so bright that it made my eyes burn, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away.

The colors shifted, became more defined, and I realized I was looking at a field crammed with flowers. I barely had time to process this, though, because the breeze I’d felt against my skin had morphed into a wind so strong that it took my breath away, a wind that originated from the iridescent bubble that hovered in my room.

It whirled around me in a vortex, sweeping me off my feet. I didn’t even have time to scream before it pulled me into the bubble.

This time, I squeezed my eyes shut on purpose. For a moment, I was suspended in mid-air, my arms and legs flailing wildly. Then I landed knee deep in a field cushioned with soft, velvety…poppies?

I was dreaming. I had to be. This could not be real. I ran my hand through the bright red flowers. They definitely felt real, as did the lush patches of grass waving in the wind. I staggered to my feet. Just beyond the poppy blooms, rows of tall, thin trees danced against a glistening blue sky. And in the distance a series of hills stretched out, coated in forest green.

I spun around as I took it all in, my heart doing a mad dance in my chest. The colors were so vibrant that they were almost blinding. The wide expanse of field and the surrounding scenery were dazzlingly real and achingly familiar.

It couldn’t be, could it? It just wasn’t possible.

A sense of panic and fear seized me by the throat.

I fell to my knees again as fresh tears seeped from my eyes and streamed down my face. “Please let this be a dream. Please. I want to be home.”

Another bubble opened directly in front of me, this one a blur of lavender and cream. Suddenly I was sailing through the air again, pulled out of the world of the poppy field by the same invisible force that had carried me into it.

I struck my bedroom floor with a thud. I raised my head slowly, my breath coming in sharp gasps. My hands shook as I pushed my tangled hair out of my eyes. I wiped my cheeks and waited for my breathing to slow. When it did, I got to my feet and glanced around the room.

The bubble was gone.

I crossed to my desk and opened my laptop. Willing my hands to stop shaking, I brought up my browser history and clicked on the last webpage I’d visited two days earlier when researching Vincent van Gogh for an art history paper. I chewed on a nail as I waited for the site to load.

When the first image came up, my heart skipped a beat. It was just as I’d thought and feared. The bold, dramatic brushstrokes and colors of van Gogh’s Poppy Field were an exact match to the world I’d just been flung into.

How was it possible? What kind of force was inside me that made me open that shimmery doorway and transport myself like that? And the other question—the one that made me break into a cold sweat—was what should I do about it? If I told anyone, they would think I’d had some kind of psychotic meltdown. They wouldn’t believe me, just like I hadn’t believed Luke.

Luke.

At the thought of him, my stomach gave a queasy lurch. He was right.

I am a witch.

* * * *

On Monday morning, the last thing I wanted to do was go to school, but I needed to talk to Luke and I didn’t know how else to contact him. That creep knew more about me than I knew myself, and I wanted answers. Luckily, history was first period, so I wouldn’t have to wait long.

After the craziness I’d experienced in my room the day before, I’d lain flat on my back, staring up at the ceiling as I played it over and over again in my head. I tried to convince myself it was a hallucination. One second I’d been in my room, finally letting myself give in to the myriad emotions waging a war inside me, and the next, a window to another world had opened up, sucking me inside. And not just any world… A painting. There was just no way something like that could happen. No freakin’ way.

But if it had been a hallucination, how did Luke know about it? And if he’d been telling the truth about what I could do…maybe his story about Mom sending his father into my mural was also true.

I shook my head. I should be questioning my own sanity for believing Luke.

Only I’d been inside van Gogh’s Poppy Field, and it had been sickeningly real.

I hurried into the girls’ washroom several minutes before the first bell rang, pulling my phone out as I went. For about the tenth time that morning, I dialed Aunt Karen’s cell. If Mom had shared my curse or power or whatever it was, surely Aunt Karen knew something about it. But for the tenth time, it went to voice mail. Damn. Blowing out a breath, I left a message.

“Aunt Karen, please call me as soon as you get this.” I hesitated, then took the plunge. “I didn’t want to tell you this over voice mail but…something weird happened to me. Beyond weird. I need to talk to you. Call me back.”

I ended the call. Well, that was that. I couldn’t wait for my aunt to get out of her seminars and call me. I needed to know what the hell was going on, and right now Luke was my only source of information.

I splashed cold water on my face and patted it dry, then stared at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were wide and panic-stricken. “What am I?” I whispered.

The door opened and shoes clicked on the checkered floor tiles. Trisha appeared at the sink beside me, smoothing down her cloud of bottle-blonde hair. She glared at me in the mirror, sparks shooting from her eyes.

“What’s your problem?” I said.

“You are, bitch. I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to steal Luke from me.”

The idea was so ridiculous that I had to laugh. “Oh, I am, am I? And what gave you that impression?”

She put her hands on her hips. Her snug fitting top rode up, baring her midriff and a glinting bellybutton ring. “Don’t deny it. I heard how you got all cosy with him in the loft at Scott’s party.”

“Whatever you heard, it’s wrong.”

“I’m not going to let you have Luke. He’s the hottest thing this school has seen in a long time.” She looked me up and down. “He’s not even your type. But you think you can do whatever you want, have whoever you want because you’re a walking tragedy—nothing but a charity case. A cool guy like Luke won’t want to be around you for long. He’ll dump your sad little ass, just like Nick wanted to.”

“That’s a lie!” I said, my voice so loud it echoed off the bathroom walls. “And don’t you dare talk about Nick.”

She raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “My, my… The Ice Princess is getting mad. There’s something you don’t see every day.”

I sunk my nails into my palms. Suddenly I found myself reacting to everything. And I knew it was all connected to this insane power I’d discovered.

“Look,” I said through gritted teeth. “Nothing is going on between me and Luke.”

Trisha dug into her bag. She withdrew a tube of lip gloss and began to apply it. She didn’t speak again until she was finished. “Then why did you go to the loft with him?”

“I didn’t. He followed me up there. I thought it was all part of your prank.”

“Again with the prank crap? I told you already that I didn’t pull any prank on you.”

“Yeah, I know that now. And seriously, he’s all yours. Just tell me… Do you know why he transferred? Did it have something to do with his father?”

She examined her French manicure. “I dunno. He might’ve said something about his dad moving away. I didn’t really pay attention.” Her head snapped up, suspicion carved into her sharp features. “Why do you even care?”

“Research for his yearbook profile.”

“Oh, come on. You don’t expect me to believe that.”

The bathroom door swung open and in stepped Roxy. She stopped, looking from me to Trisha and back again. “Jules? What’s going on?”

Trisha scowled. “Your bestie is lying through her teeth. That’s what’s going on. She’s trying to tell me she’s not stealing Luke Mercer from me.”

Roxy let out a laugh that was half-annoyed, half-amused. “Oh, please. Anybody with half a brain knows she’s not.” As her laughter trailed off, she narrowed her eyes at Trisha. “If anyone’s in the habit of trying to steal guys, it’s you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I—”

But Roxy wasn’t finished. “Now get out,” she said in a steely voice. “I want to talk to Jules alone.”

“Whatever. I’ve got better things to do than stay in here with you two losers.”

With one last glare in my direction, Trisha stalked out of the room. As soon as the door closed behind her, Roxy pounced on me. “Hey, what’s the deal? You didn’t call me back yesterday. I tried your cell a bunch of times.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t feeling well.” That was the understatement of the year.

“We need to talk about what happened Saturday. I know you said it was no big deal, but you seemed really freaked out.”

I shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Roxy let out a sigh. “Listen… I can’t always tell what’s going on in that head of yours, but I know something’s wrong now. Are you still upset about your locket? Did anyone find it?”

“No, I checked with the office a few minutes ago. Nothing.” Before I could say anything else, my cell phone vibrated in my pocket, signaling a new text message. Hope bloomed in my chest. Maybe Aunt Karen was finally getting back to me.

When I looked at the screen, though, I saw a number I didn’t recognize. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out who’d sent the message.

-We’re not done talking, witch. Meet me in the quad. Five minutes.

I tossed the phone in my bag, the hope turning into renewed determination mixed with a pinch of annoyance. I was more than ready to find out what Luke knew. I just hated the fact that a total ass was the only one who could shed some light on what was happening to me.

“You know,” I said to Roxy, “I think I’m going to go home for the day. Still not feeling so hot.” And I don’t know how to tell you I’m a freak who can make paintings come to life.

“Jules, wait.”

“I gotta go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I felt a twinge of guilt as I rushed out of the bathroom. I knew it wasn’t fair to keep my best friend in the dark, but I couldn’t tell her what was going on—at least, not yet. Not until I understood it myself.

I slipped out of the side door of the school just as the bell rang and hurried across the quad. Students who had a free period loitered on benches or sprawled on the huge expanse of lawn. I’d just reached the centre of the quad when I heard footsteps behind me. A moment later, a hand clasped my shoulder.

I whirled around and found myself face-to-face with Luke. As usual, he was dressed in head-to-toe black. His dark hair stood up in wild tufts.

He flashed me a chilling smile. “I see you got my text. Wasn’t sure if you’d skip class, though.”

“Well, I want to talk to you, too.” I paused. “How did you get my cell number anyway?”

“Some chick from our history class. Told her you borrowed my textbook and I wanted to remind you to bring it to class. So, you finally ready to get my old man back?”

“I don’t know anything about your father,” I said, struggling to keep my voice from rising again. “I’m here because I want some answers.”

His eyebrows winged up. “Answers?”

“Yeah,” I said, “since you seem to know so much about me and my mother.”

He laughed, a hollow sound. “I know people call you the Ice Princess.”

I balled my hands into fists. God, I was tired of hearing that. “That’s just a stupid name Trisha made up. And you know what I’m talking about. I need you to tell me everything about this…ability I have.”

“And why would you need me to explain your own freaky power to you?”

“Because,” I said through clenched teeth, “I don’t know anything about it.”

“Of course you do. My father saw it with his own eyes.”

“And I told you that I don’t remember!” I was rapidly losing patience with him. If he didn’t give me some answers soon, I was afraid I’d explode.

He looked at me for a long moment, his hands jammed in his pockets. Finally, he said, “You really expect me to believe you didn’t know you’re a witch?”

“Yes. It’s only the last couple of days I’ve noticed that I can do weird things. Yesterday I…” I licked my dry lips and tried again. “I think I accidentally performed magic.” The words sounded ridiculous when I said them out loud, but I didn’t know how else to describe what I’d done.

“Really? What exactly did you do?”

I hesitated again. How could I explain opening a doorway to a van Gogh painting?

“Come on…out with it.”

Speaking in a rush now, I recounted the bizarre events in my room as best I could. He listened with a neutral expression on his face, but when I was done, he threw his head back and let out a scornful laugh. “All this from the girl who said she doesn’t know anything about witchcraft.”

“I don’t know anything about it!” I said, my face burning. “I told you… It was an accident. It was like I had this emotional breakdown and…and it just happened. I’ve never lost control like that before.” And I never wanted to experience it again.

“Right,” Luke said dryly. “Because you’re the Ice Princess. And what about your mother? She never filled you in on your family’s dark little secret?”

“No.”

“Well, she knew about it, all right.” He rubbed his jaw, a cocky smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

I tried to ignore the pain that stabbed my heart. I couldn’t think about that until I knew the whole story. “Just tell me everything.”

“Fine,” he said. “But after I do that, you’re going to bring back my father.”

“I promise that if my mother really did send him somewhere, I’ll do everything I can to get him back.”

“Oh, there’s no if about it, Princess.”

“What do you mean? Did you see it happen?” I stared at him, my heart hammering in my chest.

“She told me about it herself.”

“She told you? When?”

He let out a low whistle. “You have no idea what went down during that fire, do you? Never even guessed what really happened to your boyfriend.”

I had to take several deep breaths before I could speak again. “And how would you know anything about that day?”

He took a few steps forward, closing the gap between us. His blue eyes were steady on mine. “Because I was there.”