Witch & Curse by Nancy Holder, Debbie Viguié Read Free Book Online

shut her eyes and keened like a dying animal, rocking herself. Acid filled her mouth; her stomach burned; she leaned forward and heaved, clutching a wafer-thin hospital blanket as if to protect her hospital gown. Heavy, deep, rolling sobs exploded out of her, breaking her down. All she could do was weep.
    Someone spoke with great authority, announcing, “That’s okay, Holly. You go right ahead, honey. Get it out.”
    She didn’t know how long she cried until the same someone said to another person in the room, “Jesus. Let’s give her something.”
    There was another jab, and as she began to descend into drugged sleep, she heard a flapping like the wings of a hunting bird. Swooping, diving, careening down the tunnel of blackness with her . . .
    . . . and then she realized it was her own heart beating hummingbird fast, then slowing . . . slowing . . .
    . . . and a gauntleted hand made a fist, and the bird perched upon it.
    Holly woke up again, worn out and sick and numb. The woman who said she was her aunt tried to stop crying. Her makeup was smeared all over her face. She wiped her nose with a tissue from the box on the nightstand and said, “. . . your guardian, in your father’s will.”
    Holly couldn’t remember her name.
Daddy never even told me he had a sister
.
    â€œUm, and you’ll like the school.” The woman swallowed hard. Her eyes darted left and right, as if she were looking for somewhere else to be. She had on a lot of jewelry, and her earrings caught the light as she moved. “My girls like the school.”
    Holly squinted her swollen eyes, trying to follow. “School?”
    â€œYou’re going to be a senior, right?” the woman asked.
    Years ago, when Janna Perry’s brother had died, Janna had been like the star of a movie. Everyone had circled around eleven-year-old Janna at school, treatedher carefully, whispered in furtive circles about the poor girl, the poor thing, the one left behind. Janna had been pretty much of a creep, and now she was a saint. She even acted like a saint. She was good. She was kind. She was very, very sad.
    Sad kids get their way.
    Kids who had been mean to her brought her little presents. Kids she had been mean to took her home to their houses for dinner and sleepovers. She got excused from tons of homework assignments and even though she missed a lot of school, she made the honor roll for the first time in her life. Holly, only nine at the time, had been a little jealous. All the drama, all the specialness, Janna like some mythic tragic heroine dragging around with dark circles under her eyes and going to the nurse whenever she felt like it. Janna had entered the annals of coolness, and for the rest of her life, she would have an unbeatable card to play whenever she wanted attention.
    â€œSo, um, we can pack your things and . . .” Her aunt looked momentarily stunned. “Where do you live?”
    Holly stared back at her. “What?”
    Before her aunt could answer, there was a rap on her hospital room door. Before Holly could say “come in,” it opened.
    Barbara Davis-Chin, in her corduroy overalls andBirkenstocks, hippie Barbara with no makeup and her black hair in a bun, stood framed in the doorway for an instant. Then she saw Holly and rushed to her side. Holly’s aunt moved awkwardly out of her way and Barbara’s arms enfolded Holly, pressing her cheek against Holly’s own. She smelled of sweat and perfume, and tears slid down Holly’s cheeks.
    â€œHolly, baby,” she murmured. “Oh, Holly. Oh.” She rocked Holly as Holly grabbed on to her, clinging as hard as she could, shaking and crying.
    â€œTina,” Holly murmured back, holding on hard, grateful to her core that Barbara was here. She was solid and real and maybe it had all been a mistake, and now Barbara would tell her that and everything would be the way it was supposed to be.
    I don’t care if