Sea-Witch

Chapter 1

There was something wrong with my hair.

I leaned closer to the bathroom mirror, picking up my brush. I combed my long strands horizontally outward from my scalp, studying each one individually. Late afternoon sunlight glinted through my frosted window, illuminating the handful I was inspecting. I froze mid-brush.

There was something really wrong with my hair.

It was brownish-red. My hair was not supposed to be brownish-red. My hair was dark brown, perfectly matched to my dark brown eyes.

Before I could look at it further, my cell phone began singing. I raced to answer it, dropping my brush without a second thought. Marnie. Did you hear from them? I asked breathlessly, already knowing my best friend was on the other end of the line. I sat down on my bed. It was still unmade because I'd just found the energy to wake up even though it was five o'clock in the afternoon. Summer vacation was definitely my favourite part of the year.

Yes, and they're coming! Aaron, Cody, and Graham are all in. But there's something else. Marnie's voice moved into the high octaves; she was excited about something.

What? I asked.

Aaron's going to call you! He’s finally going to ask you out. Marnie squealed into my ear.

I yanked the phone away. When I heard the squealing stop I put the phone back. My hands were shaky and damp with sweat. I gripped my turquoise bedspread tightly as I asked my next question. When?

A beep blocked out Marnie's answer. I looked at my call display and felt my heart flutter.

O-M-G Marnie, he's calling me right now. I'll call you back. I cut the line with Marnie just as she began squealing. Hello? Letting go of my blankets, I wiped my sweaty palm on my jeans.

Nessa? Hey, it's Aaron. His voice came over the line as smooth and sexy as it was in person. I'd never spoken to him on the phone before, even though he was a regular member of the group Marnie and I hung out with. Last weekend he’d almost kissed me—I was sure of it—only we’d been interrupted by a puking Graham.

Aaron. Hi. It's nice to hear from you. I mentally smacked myself—I sounded like such an idiot.

Hey. Yeah, For sure. I'm just calling to see if you're coming to the beach tonight, and to see if you need a ride.

I closed my eyes, picturing Aaron's curly, dirty-blond hair, hazel eyes, and athletic build. My pulse fluttered. Oh. I'll probably just borrow my mom's car and pick up Marnie on the way. I'll be at the beach for sure. Probably around eight. So if you're there, I'll see you. Unless you're hiding… or something… then I won't see you...because you'd be hiding. I pinched my eyes shut, embarrassed by my own uncontrollable babbling.

Great. Great! I'll see you there at eight then. Aaron's voice still sounded hopeful. That was a good sign.

See you later. I hit the end button on my cell phone and with a heavy sigh I fell backward onto my soft, unmade bed. I closed my eyes for five seconds before I realized I really needed to get moving if I was going to be ready in time for the beach. And I needed to get to Marnie's as soon as possible if I was going to look drop dead gorgeous.

On my way, I texted Marnie, then I jumped up from my bed, grabbed my tan-coloured purse and my favourite cherry-red summer dress, and ran out of my room. As I passed my parent’s bedroom door, the familiar loss of oxygen came over me and my head began to spin. I grabbed the banister as I headed downstairs, fighting to stay on my feet and keep the shaking out of my hand. Things had been getting better over the past couple weeks—I felt like I could breathe deeper now compared to the first couple days—but things were still far from okay. That was the good thing about distraction: if I was sleeping or busy I could forget about everything that had happened.

I slowed at the bottom of the steps when I heard the familiar, choking sobs. The worst part of being around Mom. I wanted to help her, to stop her crying, but I didn’t know how. So instead, I bit the inside of my cheek and prepared myself for the black hole that used to be my mother. Stepping forward softly, I pushed open the squeaking, swinging kitchen door. Mom instantly raised her hands to dry her face. She was sitting at the chocolate-coloured kitchen table, a glass of tea in front of her. Peppermint; I could smell it as soon as I stepped into the room.

I could have asked her how she was. But for the past two weeks the only response I’d gotten was, Fine. We both knew that was a lie. I’m going out, I said instead.

She nodded. The keys are on the table.

Could I have a few dollars? You know, for gas.

Mom nodded her head of short, straw-blond hair. She turned to her left, keeping her gaze downward and away from me as she dug through her purse. I looked like my dad: I had his dark brown hair and eyes, and his perfect, round nose. I’d always wished I looked like Mom, with her blonde crop of shiny hair. But now that dad was gone, I was glad to have a living reminder of him, except that it seemed to make it hard for Mom to look at me.

Of course; here’s forty. She held the money out to me with a boney, shaky arm. Drive safe. Have something healthy for supper.

What are you going to eat? I asked.

Don’t worry about me, Nessa. I’m fine. She pushed the money into my hand and then grabbed my shoulder. "Just be safe." Abruptly, she stood up, walked past me, cup of tea in hand. Her slow, plodding footsteps grew faint as she climbed the stairs. I wouldn’t see her again until tomorrow morning.

My lip shook as I headed out the door. Why couldn’t she just hug me? Why couldn’t she tell me it would be all right? That was what she was supposed to do; she was the adult. I was the child—I wasn’t supposed to be comforting her. The way she ignored me—it just made me feel so…

I pulled my cell phone out of my purse and speed-dialed Marnie.

Tell me what happened with Aaron, she said.

I... Words failed me. I… I'm just leaving now.

What's wrong? Marnie caught on immediately, proving why she was my best friend. Did Aaron say something to upset you?

No. It wasn't Aaron. I took a deep breath. I'll tell you when I get to your house.

Okay. Drive safe. That was Marnie: responsible, practical, and mature beyond her years—except for the squealing.

I jumped into Mom’s well-used Volkswagen Jetta, turning the engine. It started—reliable as always. I reached up, pulled down the visor, flipped open the mirror, checked my natural and dad-approved make-up before remembering I wasn't wearing any. Before remembering that something was wrong with my hair. Before remembering that Dad was dead and Mom was as good as.

I turned the visor back up with a sharp snap. I backed out of our treeless driveway and onto the twilight streets of Surrey, British Columbia. I needed to get away, fast. But getting away didn’t help; it tore me apart. Why had Dad been so careless? Why had he been so stupid and answered his cell phone while driving? If only he’d thought for one second, maybe he’d still be here. My chest constricted, my vision blurred. The next thing I knew, I was halfway to Marnie's house, tears streaming down my face. Stop it, he’s gone. Crying won’t change anything, I choked on the words. The vacuum of reality sucked the good feelings from my heart.

I reached up and wiped my eyes as I turned the wheel to the right. Through my tears, the yellow fire hydrant caught my eye. It wobbled. Too much stress, Nessa. You are too stressed. Just calm down and stop talking to yourself. The yellow fire hydrant wobbled again, and then skyrocketed away.

What the hell? I yelled, slamming the brakes. The heavy hydrant landed on the hood of the car with a thick, loud crunch. Fat drops of water followed it, pounding into the roof of the car. Slowly, I stepped out of the vehicle, away from the water. I looked back: less than ten feet away sat Mom’s car: silent, unmoving, and utterly destroyed.

Chapter 2

I f you did it you can tell me. Marnie and I were sitting on the edge of her lawn, watching a tow-truck chain up Mom's wet and crumpled car.

I didn't do it. I already told you. I pulled my knees tightly to my chest. The fire-hydrant shot off. I didn't run into it. I don’t get why they feel the need to tow the vehicle away for an inspection. Luckily enough, the incident had occurred right outside Marnie's front door. I hadn't even had to call for help. Marnie had heard the sound of pounding water and looked outside in fear that our evening was ruined. She'd been right. We'd been sitting on the curb for two hours while the police inspected the scene and asked me five times if I'd been drinking. They were sure I'd crashed the car into the fire hydrant, as was Mom, who'd arrived half an hour ago. Thankfully, a lack of evidence on the car, the fire hydrant, and my breath had proved them wrong. I wouldn’t drive like that: I wouldn’t be careless. Not after, I paused to take a deep breath, Not after what happened to my dad.

Marnie silently turned her blond head to watch with me. The police gave the tow-truck driver instructions on where to take the car for further inspections. Mom stood next to them, arms crossed firmly over her chest.

As if she could read my mind, Marnie said, Your mom sure looks thin.

She doesn't eat anymore. I tucked my hair behind my ear, bracing to reveal the truth. She’s depressed. It’s really bad. She won’t even look at me. I think…I think it’s because I look like him.

Marnie's blue eyes grew round. What? Oh, Nessa, I’m so sorry.

I dug my nails deep into the soft tissue of my palms. I just wish she’d snap out of it. That she’d remember she still has a daughter to live for.

Marnie reached over, hugging me. It'll be fine Nessa. I'm here. Marnie pulled away, looking me in the eye. I’m sure your mom will pull out of it soon. She just needs a bit of time—she’s grieving. I'm sure Aaron would be more than willing to keep you company in the meantime.

I laughed a little. Even with all this drama you're still trying to play matchmaker.

Marnie shrugged. Well, you've had a crush on him for months. And it's pretty obvious he likes you—he almost kissed you last weekend! Marnie wistfully looked in the direction of the beach, which was hidden by a myriad of suburban houses. It's too bad we're missing the beach party. Aaron sounded pretty upset when I told him why we couldn't make it. Marnie squeezed my hand. He said he'd call you next week when he gets back from his family vacation.

A sharp pain hit me in the stomach. He's leaving?

Marnie nodded. Before sunrise. His family's going on some wilderness fishing retreat thingy so he can't bring his cell phone.

Crap. I bit my lip, trying to stop the shaking. This really sucks. Everything...it just sucks. Tears slipped out of the corners of my eyes. I mean, first my dad dies. Then some stupid fire-hydrant gets me in an accident... I pushed the tears off my cheeks. "And now Aaron… This has to be the worst summer ever."

Maybe tomorrow will be better?

I smiled weakly at Marnie and shook my head. Maybe; it's not like it can get much worse.

Marnie smiled back, but her blue eyes didn't look any happier than I felt. Which means things have to get better, right?

Nessa, the taxi's here, Mom yelled, saving me from trying to find an answer to Marnie’s un-answerable question.

I stood, brushing off the seat of my jeans.

Marnie stood up with me. I'll call you tomorrow. We can take the bus to the mall, hang out at Starbucks.

I tried to laugh. We both hated Starbucks. Can't wait. I crawled into the cab behind Mom. She gave the cabbie our address and then started in on me.

What the hell happened, Nessa?

Nothing! How dare she start by accusing me. "I told you and the police what happened." I glared at her. She refused to meet my gaze.

Were you drinking?

Of course not. I was driving extremely carefully. Do you really think that after…that after Dad, that I’d do something that stupid?

I don’t know what you’re thinking, Nessa.

"Exactly, because you don’t talk to me anymore. You may as well be dead too!"

Mom let out long sigh, looking down at her hands. Do you really think that?

I opened my mouth, nothing came out. Of course I didn’t want her dead. Having her here and depressed was better than not having her here at all, wasn’t it? I didn't crash the car. I crossed my arms and looked out the window, away from her.

I jumped out of the cab the moment the driver put it in park. I ran into the house and up to my room before I had to say another word. Collapsing on my bed, I closed my eyes, hoping I'd fall asleep and wake up to discover this awful experience had been a dream. But I knew it was real. My life had changed, and it was stuck this way.

The next morning I woke up, remembered the dreadful truth of my life: Dad’s death, the car crash, and the fact that Aaron was on vacation and out of cell service range. I checked my phone for messages anyway, and found one from Marnie telling me she was catching the eleven o'clock bus. My alarm clock showed me I had half an hour to get ready.

I messaged Marnie back. See u on the bus.

I put my phone down, walked into my bathroom, and screamed.

Nessa? Mom ran into my room. Oh my God. What have you done? She grabbed a fistful of my hair, inspecting it.

Nothing. I stared dumbfounded at the reflection in the mirror. A sixteen year-old girl with bright, clown-red hair and sea-blue eyes stared back at me.

What kind of dye did you use? We can fix this. Your father…if he were here… Mom's thin fingers began fluttering over the countertop, searching for the used box of hair dye that didn't exist. She opened and closed the medicine cabinet, riffled through the trash, even looked under my toothbrush.

I didn't dye my hair. It turned this colour on its own. I knew just what Dad would say about my hair if he were here. He’d always told me to be proud of the skin I was born with. He wouldn’t want me to change, and I didn’t want to either. But Mom was already absolutely positive that this was my fault.

Mom turned, hands falling to her side like she’d lost all strength. Don't lie to me, Vanessa. I can’t deal with this kind of crap right now. My head’s already bursting with stuff I don’t want to deal with.

I rolled my eyes and stomped my foot. I'm not lying. I never lied to you. The police already told you the accident wasn't my fault.

Mom glanced at me, making eye contact for what must have been the first time in close to a month. She leaned closer. Are you wearing coloured contacts? You know I forbade you from buying those.

Pushing past Mom, I marched out of the bathroom, desperate to put distance between us. They aren't contacts, I shouted.

I'm not stupid, Vanessa. Do you think I can't remember the eye colour my own daughter was born with? Mom chased after me, skinny frame shaking with anger.

I'm surprised you even remember you have a daughter! I grabbed my purse from the back of my desk chair, tossing my favourite belongs into it: raspberry lip-gloss, a green cell phone, the latest vampire novel, my blue iPod.

I’m sad, Nessa, that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten you. Mom grabbed my elbow; I easily shook her off. Stop running away from me.

I'll run if I want to.

Run where?

Anywhere you aren't.

That won't fix things. That won't make your dad come back.

Maybe not, but it might make me feel better. Running out my bedroom door, I shoved my nails into my palms, cutting into the skin. I miss him too you know. I didn’t get to say goodbye either. You’re not the only one who’s sad, even though you think you are. I could barely hold it together as I screamed at her. I hated her for making me feel like I didn’t matter. Maybe I should just leave you to your misery. You’ll probably enjoy it more if I’m not around to distract you. My purse bounced on my shoulder as I ran downstairs.

Mom ran after me. Get back here! Nessa! Stop right there or I'll–

Or you'll what? I spun around at the bottom of the stairs, one hand tightly gripping my purse strap, the other on my hip. Ground me? Good luck holding me back.

Or I'll–

The screen door banged shut. What in the ocean is going on here?

I spun left and saw my grandma, my mother's mother, standing in the entrance. Her appearance immediately shushed me; for a sixty year-old woman, she was breathtaking. She was wearing a long green dress that stopped just high enough to display her fashionable baby-healed sandals. Her skin was moist and tanned and barely had any wrinkles. But what stood out most about her was the long red hair that hung in a braid over her left shoulder in a cascade of rich, maraschino cherry colour that was twenty-times better than the colour my hair had turned.

Mom, my mom sobbed, hunching inward, the fire going out.

I brushed past them both. I'm going out.

Grandma nodded.

I glared. What the hell is she doing here? How could she possibly have the nerve to show up now when she hadn’t even bothered to come to Dad’s funeral? It had taken Mom days to get a hold of her; apparently she’d been in Ireland visiting family. By the time Mom reached her, the funeral had come and gone. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t be angry with her for not being there.

I stomped down the street toward the bus stop, thinking of the last time Grandma had visited. It had been a long time ago, five years at least. It had been pure hell. She'd spent the entire two days of her visit following me around, yelling at me to pick up after myself. Why don't you help your mom more? Why don't you do your own laundry? You should cook dinner once a week! I'd finally become so angry with her that I called her a horrible grandma and told her to go home. She'd responded by throwing a glass of water in my face. Of course Mom hadn’t believed that part—she'd been at work during the whole fiasco—but I still remembered every little detail that proved Grandma was untrustworthy. Dad hadn’t been fond of Grandma either—though I wasn’t sure why—but once she finally left, we’d gone out for ice cream to celebrate. This time Dad wouldn’t be around to share in my anguish.

I rubbed my eyes to keep the tears out of them. When I glanced up, the bus was rounding the corner. As expected, Marnie was already on it, sitting at the back where her blond hair stood out against the dark blue canvas seats. I walked down the aisle and took a seat beside her. She squirmed away from me like I was a smelly stranger invading her space. She didn't even turn her head.

Hi, Marnie, I said.

She looked at me and jumped. Nessa? What the hell did you do to your hair?

It's horrible isn't it? I don’t even look like him anymore.

Marnie put an arm around my shoulder. No. No! It's not bad—I think it looks kind of good on you, actually.

Don’t lie to me! It’s horrible. I hate it. I was born to be a brunette, just like my dad. I started tearing up; I couldn’t help it.

Well, then why did you do it?

I– I caught the words on the end of my tongue. Marnie would think I was crazy if I told her I didn’t do it. Everyone knew that hair didn’t just change colour on its own—not this drastically anyway. "I thought it would be easier if I looked different. Because, you know, everything is different. But now I wish I hadn’t done it."

Okay, if it’s what you want, I'm sure we can find a salon to fix it for you. You'll be back to your fabulous self in no time.

I exhaled very slowly. Thanks Marnie, that's exactly what I need.

No! My panicked, tearful tone had everyone in the salon—the hairdressers, the customers, the women under the big fancy round hairdryers—looking at me. No-no-no-no-no! My right fist tightly clenched one of my long locks. I stared at it, willing it to change colour. The hairdresser had already applied the dye and rinsed it out—twice—but my hair was still as red as a stoplight.

I...I'm really sorry, my hairdresser, a young twenty-something woman with a black and purple spiky do and a name tag that read Annie, stammered at me, helpless. I don't know why it isn't working. There must be something wrong with…your… the… dye, or something.

Marnie's mouth dropped open. She'd been standing beside me through both dye jobs. There has to be something you can do.

Yes, there has to be something. I can’t look like this. He would hate it. He would be so disappointed in me. Dad loved my dark hair. He’d told me to never change it.

Well... Annie raised a tired hand to her forehead. I've never seen this happen before. After two tries I have to think that you must have some kind of strange immunity to the chemicals. Why don't I just give you a cut instead? We could do something short, funky maybe–

No. I stood up. I shook my head and sat back down in a huff. I couldn't go out into the mall with wet hair—red was bad enough. Okay. Fine. I'll take a little trim and a blow-dry—one inch off the bottom at most. I might be stuck with red hair but at least it's long and shiny. I’ll just…I’ll just have to hope it washes out in time.

Annie smiled, pulling out the long clips she kept pinned to her apron. There you go. Now you're looking on the bright side. Some people would kill for hair as long and healthy as yours.

Marnie rolled her eyes when Annie was too busy to notice. Yeah right, she mouthed.

I forced myself to smile. Inside, I was bawling, because not only was my hair firmly, permanently, and un-dyeably red—my eyes were bright blue. I barely recognized myself. And if Dad were alive he wouldn’t recognize me either.

Two hours later, I arrived home swinging my new purchase: a navy zip-up hoodie with a small olive green flower embroidered over the bottom right pocket. Marnie had helped me find it after I’d complained about not having any clothing to match my new red hair. The hoodie was far from being my favourite piece of clothing, but it did make me feel a tiny bit better about my transformation.

Good, you're home. Grandma stood up from the couch when I stepped into the front hallway. She smoothed the long, green dress she wore and walked over to me. Take a seat in the living room while I get your mother. She has something she needs to tell you.

I tried to escape quickly to my bedroom but Grandma stepped in front of me, blocking my path. But I–

It can't wait. Grandma held up her hand, preventing more words from escaping my lips. It won't take long and it needs to be done now. She pierced my eyes with hers; I shrivelled backward. And I think you've given your mom a hard enough time for one day. She pointedly looked at my hair.

I took my shopping bag into the living room and dropped it at my feet. I scuttled back onto the couch, picking up the television remote. I didn't even get the chance to turn it on before Grandma returned with Mom in tow.

Mom peeped up at me once, quickly, then fixed her eyes on the window. Hey Sweetie, I'm glad you're home. We need to talk.

I tried not to panic; conversations that started with 'Sweetie' had never brought good news. I didn't say anything. Keeping my mouth firmly shut, I watched Mom pace across the pale, rose-coloured carpet, wringing her boney hands. She stopped, set her feet firmly on the floor, and exhaled.

Nessa, I'm sorry. She held her hands out in front of her, already apologizing for what she was about to say.

This wasn't good.

Since your father’s death, I’ve been thinking a lot. I’m going to sell the house.

Chapter 3

Y ou...You're what? I stuttered; fully forming a sentence was impossible. The room flashed in and out as I blinked. But it hasn’t even been a month yet!

Mom shook her head. I'm sorry, Nessa, but I just…I can’t do this—I can’t live here without him.

No! I grew up here. This is where we’ve always lived. I can’t leave. Not now. This is all we have left of him.

No. I can’t, Nessa. I can't...I...I just can't. Mom reached up, wiping the tears from her face. Her hands shook, her breath came in short, shallow gasps.

Where are we going to go? I gripped the couch tightly, even though it didn't stop the room from twirling. Could she really make me leave the house? How much did houses cost these days? It couldn't be that expensive. Maybe my college fund would pay for it. I looked at her; she didn't look back at me. You can have it. You can have all the money in my bank account if it means we get to stay here. Please. Please don't make me move.

Mom didn't answer.

Grandma stood up. "No, Nessa,