“Well, son of a bitch,” Florence said.
“It didn’t work,” Sadie said quietly.
“Good one, Captain Obvious,” Seth said angrily.
“Oh, what are you—twelve?” Sadie answered right back. But when she saw the fear back in Seth’s eyes, the guilt came, fast and rich as Black Forest Cake, making her stomach hurt.
“That’s enough. Both of you. It didn’t work.” Florence pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. Sadie knew that look. It was the face of someone trying not to freak out. “We’ll figure something else out,” Florence said.
“Yeah,” Seth said, deflated. “Yeah, sure.” He walked back into the house, and with a sad smile to Sadie, Florence followed.
Sadie stood there, the rain mingling with her tears, until they both stopped altogether. It hadn’t worked. Her chest constricted. Her breath came in short bursts, and even though she was shivering, her body became a single flame. Her fingers tingled, and the feeling worked its way up her arms until they were numb. Until everything was numb. The rain-drenched world swayed. Or maybe it tilted. Did it matter?
The panic was suffocating in a familiar kind of way. Like an old friend.
If they couldn’t figure out the sacrifice, Seth would die. The thought made her want to vomit.
I can’t do this, she thought.
Maybe if she ran away, but no, her feet were too leaden. She looked down at them, bare and muddy. Her panicked thoughts chased after each other. The grass beneath her toes began to curl and crisp. It spread out from her feet, licking along the ground to the nearby zucchini plants, an invisible flame urging them along, and the more she panicked, the faster it spread.
The panic turned tangible, and she coughed from the smell as the garden died off in front of her eyes. It was tied to her. She could feel it. But how?
“Sadie,” Florence called from the gate.
Sadie turned to look at her, her eyes wild. She tried to move but couldn’t.
“It won’t let me in,” Florence rattled the gate. “You need to breathe. Find your calm.”
“I can’t,” Sadie whispered raggedly. Her shirt was soaked with sweat and rain and sticking to her back, her breath coming in short pants. Her vision blurred.
“Let me try,” Sage said quietly, coming up behind her mother.
Her hand had barely touched the handle when it sprang open. As soon as she was through, it swung shut again.
The girl walked to Sadie and gently laid a hand on her forearm.
Sadie inhaled sharply at the contact.
“It’s okay,” Sage said softly.
Sadie could feel Sage’s calm trying to enter, but her body was fighting it.
“You have to let me in,” Sage whispered.
Fear curled in Sadie’s stomach. But there was no other alternative if she wanted to keep her garden and stop this madness. She’d spent her whole life pushing people away, and here she could feel the insistent knocking on her heart.
Let me in, let me in, it said.
And so, she did.
Before, she would have said there was no choice. But she knew now, there was always a choice. And the closer you get to desperation, the easier it is to accept what you’ve wanted all along, which makes the choice tangible, if not easier to make. After all, it was easy to let someone in when you were planning on pushing them right back out.
Her breathing slowed. She closed her eyes and focused on the calm. Let it soak into her marrow. Felt Sage’s small presence beside her and her mother’s at the gate. And without opening her eyes, she knew that Seth was there too. She grounded herself in that. And slowly, the numbness turned back to tingling, and then the tingling left altogether.
By the time she opened her eyes, the devastation had stopped. The tomatoes were decimated, all four varieties. The zucchinis were charred, and the rutabagas had just begun to wilt.
“It’s me,” Sadie whispered, the realization making her knees weak. “This is all my fault.” She sank to the ground, mud squelching. Her magic was the thing doing this. Not some incorporeal spirit or malicious ghost. Her. Every burned bush was a testament to her fear and grief. It reflected what was inside her, she realized. The chaos and doubt. She was controlling it.
She thought back on every time a patch of garden had died off and remembered the panic that had taken over just before. Sage had helped her control it this time. But the girl wouldn’t always be around.
“Let’s go back in the house,” Florence said, the gate having finally admitted her.
Sadie let herself be steered inside, and as her feet moved of their own accord, a startling thought occurred to her. If she was the one causing the garden to burn, what was the spirit doing? The one she’d seen a handful of times. Or more importantly, what did it want? She shivered and pushed the thoughts away.