Determined to find something I could do on my own, I headed to the one tiny bathroom in my rental cottage, placed both hands on the counter, and stared at myself in the mirror.
Let’s see. Let’s see. What could I shift into?
My eyes locked on the shower curtain with its bright pink flamingo print, the one item infused with any personality in this functional but not exactly appealing room.
A flamingo, okay. I pictured the bird in my mind, cataloging everything I knew about them from their flamboyantly colored feathers right down to their preference for standing on just one foot at a time. Squeezing my eyes shut, I held the image in my mind and pictured myself becoming that image.
Just. Think. Pink.
It was a perfectly logical method, and I gave the visualization thing all I had… But still nothing happened.
Darn it!
I opened my eyes again, ready to tell off my reflection for her refusal to follow instructions. Instead, I let out a sharp gasp.
I hadn’t turned into a flamingo, but my hair had changed into a bright bubblegum pink that matched the color of the birds on the shower curtain perfectly.
Pink hair. I’d done that with magic—my magic!—and it didn’t look half bad, considering.
Granted, I still didn’t know how I’d managed to change just my hair when I’d meant to change my whole body, but I was thrilled I had done something. Even if it was just a small something.
I revisited my earlier list.
Green? No.
Ugly? Not with this cool new hairdo.
Yes, I’d harnessed my new powers and done something magical. Not a bad start at all for this novice witch. Whatever this Town Witch thing entailed, I could do it.
And who knew? Maybe I could tackle flying tomorrow.
Famous last words.
11
The next morning, a horrible screeching sound wrested me from an already fitful sleep. I bolted upright, pushing my back against the antique headboard and sending a certain black cat tumbling from the bed.
“What are you doing here?” I cried, clutching the comforter to my chest.
Mr. Fluffikins hopped back onto the foot of my bed and eyed me wearily. “I already told you we’d be picking up with your training this morning.”
“But it’s still dark outside.” I knew I was whining like a child who’d just been woken up for the first day of school after an especially satisfying Christmas break, but I didn’t care. I was too angry to worry about how I was coming across to the very person—er, cat—who had gotten me so angry to begin with. “Plus you said nothing about breaking into my house. That is not okay.”
He squinted his eyes and growled, then straightened back up, proud and tall, showing off that little white patch on his chest. “I didn’t break in. I simply used magic to gain entry,” he explained in a languid drawl. “And it’s six in the morning, a perfectly good time to wake up and share some breakfast with your new mentor.”
I stared at Mr. Fluffikins, mouth agape. Not only had he shown up inside my bedroom at this unseemly hour, but now he expected me to make breakfast, too? Well, I hope he liked cold cereal, because that’s all he was getting.
“Wait for me downstairs,” I commanded, but Fluffikins did not budge. “I mean it. I’m not wearing any pants and need some time to make myself decent.”
“You didn’t seem too concerned about appearing decent last night,” he bit out.
Oh, no. I was not about to be slut-shamed by a talking cat. “Get out of here!” I screamed and threw my pillow at him.
At least this time he listened. “The others will be here soon, so please do make haste,” he informed me on his way out.
“Oh, I’ll make something, all right,” I muttered under my breath as I hurried to pull on the first pants I found.
When I emerged from my room, I was wearing pajama bottoms and a tank top. I refused to make myself any less comfortable when Fluffikins would likely disapprove of whatever I wore anyway.