It was a horrible sensation-and a familiar one. As if the picture were opening to let her in. The eyes of a child.Īs Kaitlyn stared at it, she suddenly felt dizzy, as if she were falling. Now she looked down and for the first time saw what she’d drawn.īut what was strange was what was underneath the web, so close it was almost touching. Or rather her hand was doodling-her brain didn’t seem to be involved at all. Endless aching and wishing that she were a witch so she could put the most hideous, painful, debilitating curse on all of them.Īll the while she was thinking, she was doodling. Endless sitting and listening to girls planning parties that she wasn’t invited to. The years stretched out in front of Kaitlyn, bleak as the Ohio winter outside the window, filled with endless cold classrooms. He needed her-and there wasn’t any money. But she’d screwed up her art scholarship . . . If she could have gone away to college, it might have been different. And the year after that, and the year after that. . . .

In a little town like Thoroughfare she was bound to see them, and their parents, every day for the next year. After that, I’m out of high school and I hope I never see anyone from this place again.īut that was the other problem, of course. No one ever invited the witch no one thought that Kaitlyn, the lovely, spooky girl with the strange eyes, would want to go.Īnd I don’t care, Kaitlyn thought, her reflections coming around full circle. Marcy would never think of inviting Kaitlyn to her party because she wouldn’t think of doing something that had never been done before. They could shake their heads and say, “Oh, that Kaitlyn-she’s odd, but what would we do without her?” And that would be fine, as long as she was a part.īut it wouldn’t happen, ever. She’d settle for a place in the group that was securely her own. If they would only let her in-it wasn’t as if she insisted on being the most popular, the most admired, girl at school.

At the same time there was a terrible longing inside her. She hated Pam and Marcy, and wanted them to die, or at least to have some gory accident that left them utterly broken and defeated and miserable. She couldn’t, so she doodled on the blue-lined page of her history notebook.

Kait was listening, pretending not to listen, and fiercely wishing she could get away. Flynn’s gentle, apologetic voice was no competition for their excited whispers. She was sitting in history class, listening to Marcy Huang and Pam Sasseen plan a party for that weekend. You don’t invite the local witch to parties.

The strange power lj smith