In sixth grade she had wanted to cheat on my math test, and I had said no. We didn't speak for two days. She cheated off of Robbie's test, and it was never mentioned again.

Last year, in tenth grade, we'd gotten into our worst fight ever, over whether photography counted as a valid art form or whether any idiot with a camera could capture a stunning image every once in a while. I won't tell who took what position, but I will say it culminated in a horrible, screaming fight in my backyard until my mom came out and shouted at us to stop.

That time we didn't speak for two and a half weeks, until we finally each signed a document saying that on this issue, we would agree to disagree. I still have my copy of our promise.

It was cold. I zipped my jacket up to my chin and pulled up the hood. I started walking toward Matt's house but then realized that it was too far away. The tears began to run down my face, and I couldn't stop them. Why was Bree doing this to me? In frustration, I turned around and started the long walk home.

The sharp-edged moon was so close, I could see its craters. I listened to the sounds of the night insects, animals, birds. My eyes and ears became still more attuned, and I let them. I could make out insects on trees twenty feet away in the darkness. I saw birds' nests high on branches with the soft, rounded heads of sleeping birds visible at the edge. I became aware of the fast-paced fluttery thumping of the baby birds' hearts in syncopated rhythm with the much slower, heavier thud of my own.

I turned the volume of my senses down. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the tears kept coming.

I didn't see how Bree and I would ever recover from this, and I cried about that. I cried because I knew this meant she and Cal would really get together; she would make it happen. And I really cried, my stomach hurting, because I thought this meant I had to close all the doors inside me that had so recently opened.

CHAPTER 21 The Thin Line

Early the next morning the phone rang. It was Robbie.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Last night Bree said you weren't going to come to circles anymore."

Bree's assumption that I would give in to her so easily filled me with fury. I swallowed it and said, "That isn't true. That's what she wants. It isn't what I want. Samhain is next Saturday, and I'll be there."

Robbie paused for a few seconds. "What's going on between you two? You're best friends."

"You don't want to know," I said tersely.

"You're right," he said. "I probably don't want to know. Anyway, we're meeting in the cornfields to the north of town, on the other side of the road from where Mabon was. We're going to meet at eleven-thirty, and if we decide we want to be initiated as students into a new coven, that will happen at midnight."

"Wow, okay. Are you… are you going to do it?"

"We're not really supposed to talk about it or decide yet," Robbie explained. "Cal said to just think about it in a completely personal way. Oh, and everyone has to bring stuff. I volunteered you for flowers and apples."

"Thanks, Robbie," I said sincerely. "Do we have to wear anything special?"

"Black or orange," he said. "See you tomorrow."

"Okay, thanks."

Church that day was much as usual. Father Hotchkiss noted that it was best to have a defensive line without gaps so that evil would have no place to gain access to your soul.

I leaned across my mom to Mary K. "Note to self," I whispered. "No gaps for evil."

She hid her grin behind her program.

That day I felt hyper-tuned in to the service, despite Father Hotchkiss. I wondered if following Wicca meant I really, truly couldn't ever come to church again. I decided it wouldn't. I knew that I would miss church if I stopped coming, and I also knew that my parents would kill me. Later on in my life, if I had to choose between one or the other, I could do it then. I thought about what Paula Steen had said, about it's what you brought to something that mattered.

Today I listened to the hymns and to the massive European organ played by Mrs. Lavender, as it had been since my mom was a child. I loved the candles and the incense and the formal procession of gold-robed priests and white-clothed altar boys and girls. I had been an altar girl for a couple of years, and so had Mary K. It was all so comforting, so familiar.

After church and brunch at the Widow's Diner, I went to the grocery store with that week's shopping list. On my way, I hopped up to Red Kill, to Practical Magick. I didn't plan to buy anything and didn't see anyone I knew, but I stood in the book section, reading up about Samhain for a while. I decided to bring a black candle next Saturday since black is the color that helps ward off negativity. Meanly I was tempted to buy Bree a roomful of black candles.

My anger at her was still white-hot. I couldn't believe her incredibly arrogant notion that she could kick me out of the circle. It only highlighted the harsh fact that in our relationship, she had always been the leader. I had always been the follower. I saw that now, and it made me angry with myself, too.

I dreaded going to school the next day.

"May I help you?" A pleasant-faced older woman, inches shorter than me, stood smiling at me as I looked at candles.

I decided to jump in headfirst. "Urn, yes. I need a black candle for Samhain," I said.

"Certainly." She nodded and reached for the black candle section. "You're lucky we still have some left. People have been snapping these up all week." She held up two different black candles: one a thick pillar about a foot tall, the other a long, slim taper about fourteen inches tall.

"Both of these would be appropriate," she said. "The pillar lasts longer, but the taper is very elegant, too."

The pillar was much more expensive.

"Um, I guess I'll take the… pillar," I said. I had meant to say taper, but it hadn't come out that way. The woman nodded knowingly.

"I think the pillar wants to go home with you," she said, as if it was normal for a candle to choose its owner. "Will this be all for you?"

"Yes." I followed her to the checkout, thinking how un-creepy she was and how much more I liked her than the other clerk.

"If I brought flowers on Samhain, what kind should I bring?" I asked her a little self-consciously.

She smiled as she rang up my purchase."Whichever ones want you to buy them," she said cheerfully. Then she looked closely into my eyes, as if searching for something.

"Are you-" she began. "You must be the girl David was telling me about," she said thoughtfully.

"Who's David?"

"The other clerk here," she explained. "He said a young witch comes in here who pretends not to be a witch. It's you, isn't it? You're a friend of Cal's."

I was stunned. "Um…"

She smiled broadly. "Yep, it's you, all right. How nice to meet you. My name's Alyce. If you ever need anything, you just let me know. You're going to walk a difficult road for a while."

"How do you know that?" I blurted out.

She looked surprised as she put my candle into a bag. "I just do," she said. "The way you know things. You understand what I'm talking about."

I didn't say anything. I took my bag and practically flew from the store, equally fascinated and unnerved.

On Monday morning I went defiantly to the benches where the Wicca group gathered and sat down, dropping my backpack at my feet. Beyond looking surprised to see me, Bree ignored me.