Chapter 7

7

“ L itha goes by many names. Midsommar, midsummer, the summer solstice. It’s the longest day of the year, marking the start of the shortening of days until Yule, which of course, is the shortest day of the year. It’s a time to celebrate fertility and harvest and light and growth. There are lots of ways to celebrate Litha—you’ll find not a single coven in Sedgwick Cove celebrates it exactly the same way. But one thing we all do is come together for the pageant.

“The story of the pageant is always the same, the battle of the Oak King and the Holly King. The Oak King represents the sun, the warmth, the time of the year when daylight has the upper hand, and rules over all. The Holly King, on the other hand, represents the darkness—oh, uh… not that Darkness. I just mean like, nighttime,” Zale said quickly, perhaps noticing the way I stiffened in my seat, the way my heart had begun to pound. I could feel everyone staring at me again. I tried to ignore them, keeping my attention on Zale, and trying to appear the rapt audience he craved.

Zale went on, “The Holly King rules over the second part of the year, when the darkness rules over the day until Yule, or the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year; and the power is returned once again to the Oak King. At dusk on Litha, the Holly King challenges the Oak King to a mighty battle for control of the earth. That’s what the pageant acts out—the battle for domination! When it ends, we position the Wheel of the Year at the top of the cliff above the beach, light it on fire, and roll it down to the sea.”

Zale looked around at us all expectantly, as though to say, “Is that the coolest thing you’ve ever heard?” Sergei launched into a sarcastic slow clap. Eva silenced him with a look.

“Why are you even here if you’re just going to be an asshole?” Eva asked him.

Sergei shrugged, coloring. “Because if I don’t help with the pageant my mother will disown me.”

“Oh, so you’re here because Mommy said you had to come?” another boy sneered.

Eva rounded on him, too. “Yeah, and so am I. And so are you. Every single person in this room is here because their mother or their grandmother or their auntie said they would hex them otherwise. Now shut up and let us get on with it, Ethan.”

The boy named Ethan muttered something under his breath, but no one else argued. Evidently, there was enough truth in what Eva said that no one wanted to contradict her.

“Uh, thanks, Zale,” I said into the awkward silence. “That, uh… clears that up. My next question is, what’s the usual pageant like?”

Zale cleared his throat, but it was Eva who answered. “Oh, anyone in this room could probably recite the whole thing from memory by the time they were five years old,” she said, chuckling. “It’s only the cheesiest thing anyone’s ever heard. Although, to be fair, when I was little, I thought it was awesome.”

A girl stood up suddenly in the row behind me, grinning. “Come forth, oh harbinger of night! I knowst thou art here. Show thyself!” she called in a deep, melodramatic voice.

Three other kids jumped to their feet. “I am no harbinger! I am King of The Darkness, and thou wilt bend the knee or feel my wrath!”

The entire group of kids then shouted at the top of their lungs, “I kneel to no one. Thy shadow crown is naught to me!”

A few tried to keep going, but they’d mostly broken off into raucous laughter, along with some truly terrible fight choreography. Zale seemed to be deflating like a balloon up on the stage, watching his meeting devolve into chaos.

I ignored the full-scale anarchy now breaking out in the seats, and hopped up onto the stage. “What about the props and costumes and stuff? What are we working with?”

Zale drooped even more. “Right here.” He popped the top from one of the plastic bins, and lifted out a crown and a robe. The robe was faded purple velvet, with a moth-eaten faux-fur collar and frayed ribbons dangling from the cuffs. The crown had crumbling Styrofoam horns glued to it, and several blank spots where plastic gemstones had fallen off.

“These are…” I searched for a word that could sound complimentary without being a complete lie.

“It’s okay,” Zale sighed, plopping down on the other bin in defeat. “You can say it.”

I sat beside him. “They’re in rough shape, but that’s not your fault. I mean, if all your families make such a big deal about this pageant, why don’t they buy you guys some better materials?”

“Because they’re all obsessed with tradition. They like seeing the same dilapidated crap they wore when they did the pageant a hundred years ago,” Zale said. “Every year the kids are bored out of their minds, but no one ever does anything about it. I thought, since I was voted director this year, that I might finally be able to convince people to put some effort in and switch it up. You can see how well that’s gone, so far.”

“Don’t give up so easily! I’m sure we can… well…” I looked at the crown still clutched in my hands. Some gold paint had already flaked off onto my skin.

“See? What’s the point?” Zale said. “We’ll just do the same old thing we’ve done for a million years.”

“There’s got to be a way to… hang on.” My eyes, ranging out over the seats again in search of inspiration, had lighted on Luca Meyers; and an idea popped into my head. “I’ll be right back,” I told Zale, as I jumped off the stage and headed up the aisle.

Luca watched me as I approached, and I felt myself suddenly feeling awkward. Why did I walk like that? What was I doing with my arms? Did I always slouch this much?

“Luca, right?” I asked, when I stumbled to a halt beside his seat.

“Yeah,” he said. “And you’re Wren, right? Wren Vesper?”

I blinked. “How did you know that?”

He smiled. “You signed in at the box office, remember?”

A blush of mortification flooded my cheeks. “Oh. Right. Anyway, I was just wondering, does the playhouse have a costume collection on site, or do you rent everything?”

Luca looked surprised at the question, but readily replied, “There’s a whole costume department. Most of our costumes are made in-house, and stored here as well. Sometimes they get rented out to other theaters, but usually most everything is here. Why?”

“How about props and scenery?”

“Generally, unless it’s something really complex, all that stuff gets constructed here for each show. We’ve got full shops out on the other side of the parking lot.”

“Do you think it would be okay if we… maybe borrowed some stuff? I’m not sure if Zale has any kind of budget, but maybe we could promote the theater—call it out as a sponsor of the pageant or something?”

Luca shrugged. “I can ask my dad. He’s always looking for new ways to drum up publicity.”

“Okay, thanks,” I said. “Uh… let me know, I guess.”

“How?”

“Huh?”

“How should I let you know?”

It was the most obvious question for him to ask, and yet I felt completely blindsided by it. For some reason I couldn’t quite pinpoint, the thought of offering him my phone number made me want to sink straight through the floor and never resurface. It was the rational thing to do, by far the most efficient way to pass along information to me, and I absolutely could not bring myself to do it. Instead, I said, “Um, I’ll stop by here tomorrow around lunchtime. Will you be here?”

“Sure,” Luca said. “Not at the boxoffice, though. My uncle will have me landscaping out near the parking lot.”

“Okay, I’ll uh… I’ll see you there,” I said, and for some reason I couldn’t fathom, I waved at him like he wasn’t sitting five feet in front of me. “Uh, thanks. Bye.”

I walked back up to the front of the theater, feeling my face burning and wildly grateful that everyone was too caught up in their ridiculous pageant reenactment to notice me.

“What was that about?” Zale asked.

“I asked Luca if he thought we might be able to use some costumes and stuff from the playhouse. He’s going to let me know.”

“Hey, that’s a great idea!” Zale said, perking up at once.

“Is it really? To be honest, I can’t believe no one ever thought to ask that before,” I said. “It seems kind of obvious.”

Zale snorted. “Too proud. The Meyers family isn’t a coven family, they’re incomers. Sedgwick Cove is very clannish when it comes to incomers.”

“Isn’t that kind of a cliche?” I asked. “I mean, the whole little village ‘they ain’t from here’ thing?”

“In other towns, sure, but here it’s a matter of safety,” Zale said, looking serious now.

“Sure, maybe it was three hundred years ago, but it’s not illegal to be a witch anymore,” I said. “I mean, he’s sitting back there listening to us talk about covens and stuff. What’s the big deal?”

“Maybe not illegal, no, but it can still be dangerous,” Zale said.

“How could it?—?”

“Just ask yourself this,” Zale interrupted, his expression quite serious, “Would you ever tell anyone back in Portland what happened at the lighthouse?”

The question startled me, but I thought about it for a moment before answering, truthfully, “No.”

“Why not?”

I thought again. “Because I wouldn’t want to scare them,” I said finally.

Zale nodded with grim satisfaction. “That’s right. What we can do—I mean what we can really do—would scare a lot of people. And scared people do bad things, sometimes. I mean, what were witch trials but sheer paranoia?

“Patriarchy and religious zealotry?” I suggested.

Zale raised an eyebrow, and I put my hands up in surrender. “Sorry, just a joke. No, you’re right. I get it. We have more reason than most to be wary of outsiders. But do you think it’s okay if I take a look anyway, if Luca’s uncle says yes? Even the tourists come to the pageant. It’s not like the pageant itself is a secret. I mean, we advertise it, don’t we?”

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s fine,” Zale said. Then he walked back to the edge of the stage, and tried unsuccessfully for several minutes to get the rest of the kids under control, until Eva took pity on him, stuck two fingers in her mouth, and whistled loudly. Everyone froze, startled.

“Okay, can everyone just chill, please? Wren’s got some good ideas for updating the pageant, but we’ll need to work out the details. In the meantime, let’s get the parts sorted out, and decide when our first rehearsal will be.”

Zale read down a list of parts, assigning them to the kids who had shown up. Sergei and Ethan were assigned the parts of the Oak King and the Holly King, which immediately launched a secondary bout of fake fighting.

“I didn’t assign you a part because I didn’t know you were coming until this morning,” Zale said, “but you can always be one of the wood nymphs.”

I shot a look at the flower crowns made from plastic leis and shook my head. “It’s fine. I’m much happier behind the scenes. How about I be your production manager?”

“I… don’t know what that is,” Zale admitted.

“It means you just focus on getting the actors into character. I’ll handle the other details, okay?”

Zale grinned. “You’re hired. I mean, not actually hired, because I can’t pay you, but?—”

“I know, I know. Don’t worry, I’m volunteering my services,” I said.

“Great!” Zale launched himself at me in a violent hug, and then went to hand out scripts. I put a hand on his arm.

“Since everyone agrees the script is a bit… well, ridiculous, what do you think about switching it up a bit?” I asked him.

“You mean like, rewrite it? I’m really not good at that kind of stuff,” Zale said.

“Hm. I’m not really either. Can I have a copy anyway, though? Then at least I can read it and see if anything comes to me,” I said, and he happily handed over to me the entire stack of scripts. Then he set the rehearsal for the next evening, and finally let everyone go.

“See you tomorrow,” Luca said, as I passed him to start my ride home. I decided the safest response was just to nod.

As I pedaled along the shore road, my mind was spinning with everything I’d learned about the Litha pageant. If we were counting on that pathetic box of costumes and the theatrical talents of Ethan and Sergei to pull this off, we were definitely in trouble. There had to be a way to reimagine it all, to bring it to life. I didn’t have much confidence in my magic, despite what all the other kids thought, but theater? That I knew like the back of my hand. My imagination came to life like a movie, as I envisioned an epic battle that would enthrall the watching audience, and make the Midsummer Festival the most memorable of all time. I was so engrossed that I almost sped right past the gate of Lightkeep Cottage.

Inside, my mom and Rhi were sitting on the floor in the living room going through some boxes.

“Hi baby,” my mom said as I walked in.

“Hey,” I said, tossing my bag on the couch, and coming to sit beside her. “How did it go with the lawyer?”

“Good. Just boring real estate stuff—leases and contracts. But I think it should all be sorted out now. Just waiting on a few things to be signed.”

“Were you there all day?”

“No, just for a couple of hours this morning. But then I had some stuff to settle over at the hospital, so that took a while, then I hit awful traffic coming back.” She said it all with a slightly desperate air, like she was trying to justify her absence to me.

“Well, that all sounds miserable,” I said, trying to sound sympathetic. “I’m glad you’re finally home.”

The word hit strangely, I could tell, coming out of my mouth. Her face twitched with a momentary expression of distress, but she composed it quickly enough that I could pretend I hadn’t noticed.

“Rhi told me you… you talked a little about affinities today?” she asked, sounding tentative.

I tried to catch Rhi’s eye, but she was keeping her gaze doggedly on the photo album in her hands.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m doing some reading about it,” I hedged. Had Rhi told my mother about her theory that I might be a pentamaleficus? I had no idea, but for some reason I didn’t want to be the one to bring it up, probably because my mother already looked so frazzled that I couldn’t bear to be the one to make it worse. Instead, I said, “So I guess we can start testing them, to see how I should study magic moving forward.”

“That’s… that’s great, honey. And I… I promise as soon as I get through all of this… this moving stuff, I’ll be right here to… to help.” The words were right, but the delivery was wrong. She sounded almost panicked. She seemed barely able to look at me, her eyes darting only sporadically up to my face, focusing instead on the box in her lap. I decided to change the subject before she lost her grip on the remaining threads of her self-control.

“What is all this stuff?”

“Oh, just some photo albums and memorabilia we had in storage. Rhi’s helping me sort through it all,” she said. She tried to smile at me, but all she looked was exhausted.

“Mom, all this can wait,” I said. “Why don’t you get some sleep?”

She opened her mouth to argue with me, but a yawn betrayed her immediately, and she stifled it with the back of her hand. “I know, I will. We’re almost done.”

“You’ve been running yourself ragged. I wish you’d let me come back to Portland to help you pack.”

She waved me off. “Absolutely not. You’ve got enough to do, starting your magical education. You’re behind, and it’s my fault. Besides, I broke down and hired movers. They’re even going to take the stuff we don’t have room for here and store it for us, until we can decide what we want to do with it.”

“I’d feel better if you let me help,” I pressed.

“And I’d feel better if you started learning to protect yourself,” my mom replied, glaring at me.

I sighed. There was no point in arguing with her.

“Where are you coming from?” my mom asked, in a clear attempt to change the subject. I let her.

“I was over at the playhouse. They were hosting a planning meeting for the Litha pageant, and Zale asked me if I would help out.”

If I hadn’t known my mother so well, I never would have noticed the tiny signs of stress at the mention of the playhouse; the way her shoulders rose just a bit toward her ears, and how her fingers fumbled the stack of picture frames she was organizing.

“That’s a great idea,” my mom said, in a determinedly even voice. “You’re wonderful at organizing shows, and that pageant can use all the help it can get.”

Rhi and my mom looked at each other, and burst out laughing.

“I’m missing the joke,” I said, looking between them.

“Oh it’s just… well, there was one year when Asteria was in charge of the pageant,” Rhi said, still laughing, “and she forced Persi to play the Oak King.”

“Oh God,” I said, trying to imagine Persi agreeing to such a thing.

Rhi was trying to tell the story, but she and my mother were laughing so hard now, that the words were coming out in choked gasps. “And when the battle started… the boy playing the Holly King… hit her in the arm with his staff by accident…”

But Rhi couldn’t say anything else. Tears were rolling down her cheeks.

“Persi punched him in the face. Knocked him out cold, in front of the whole crowd,” my mother managed to say, between peals of laughter. “And then walked off stage. Two of the wood nymphs had to put the beards on and act out the rest of the battle, while the poor kid was dragged off the platform.”

I snorted. “Why does nothing about this story surprise me?” I asked, but Rhi and my mother were lost in their mutual laughter, and I couldn’t get another word of sense out of them.

“Okay, well, I guess I’ll head up,” I said, giving up. “I’ve got some homework to do anyway.”

“Homework?” my mom asked, momentarily distracted and wiping tears of mirth from her cheeks.

I smiled and pointed at Rhi who added, still chuckling, “I found another book on affinities in the library. I’ve put it next to your bed. You can start on that one after you finish the one I gave you this morning.”

I gave Rhi a military salute, which made her giggle again, and trudged up the stairs. The pageant would be a good distraction from all the anxiety about my magic and the Darkness. I needed a project, something I could turn to with confidence, something I knew I could handle at least as well, if not better, than those around me. If I could feel like an asset rather than a liability in this one little thing, I might just get through this summer. I let my imagination begin to wander again, teeming with images of woodland nymphs and frost fairies. It was like Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream —we had to enchant our audience, like Puck and his love of magic, only hopefully a bit less chaotic. Could we even add a touch of real magic? Was that even allowed? After all, we had a cast full of real witches…

I was so distracted when I opened my door that I’d tossed my stuff onto my bed, and was halfway through pulling my sweatshirt off before I realized I wasn’t alone.

Someone was sitting in my desk chair, staring at me from out of the darkness.