Big Witch Energy - Kelly Jamieson Page 0,67

Felise says to Magan in a low voice.

“True.” Magan lets out a long breath. She meets my eyes. “I understand why you did it, but you need to be careful, Romy.”

I nod quickly. “I know. They know.”

“Okay.” Magan nods. “And yeah, we did hear about your interview.”

“Some of it,” Felise says. “People gossip and things get all blown up out of proportion. A lot of the older witches are in an uproar about it. Apparently they weren’t happy about you calling them patriarchal and medieval.”

I wince. “Um, yes.”

“Did you really say that?” Felise’s eyes dance.

“They basically said women weren’t smart enough to be board members.”

“What!” Both Felise and Magan straighten. “That’s bullshit!”

“I know, right? They also didn’t like my apps.”

“You didn’t mention that,” Magan says.

“Tell us about the apps!” Felise bounces.

I take out my phone and show them the app I developed for tracking crystals and their magical properties, then the spell book app.

“Whoa. That’s awesome.” Felise looks up at me in wonderment.

“Also, I have an idea for a lunar calendar app.”

“This spell book app is sick,” Magan says. “You have to do more of this. Can you sell these to us?”

“I’ll give them to you.”

“No! You should make money from it.”

“That’s not why I did it. I just wanted to make things easier. Mostly for myself,” I admit.

“She’s smart that way,” Kesha says proudly.

“She is!” Hannah adds.

I shoot them a grateful glance.

“This is great,” Felise says. “It’s ridiculous that the elders think this is dissidence. Everyone could benefit from these things. And what is up with the misogyny?”

“Did you not notice it before?” I ask carefully.

Magan and Felise exchange glances, looking a little guilty. “I guess we did, but it didn’t really affect us, so…” Felise covers her face. “I’m so ashamed.”

I pat Felise’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Sometimes we’re so used to things being embedded in everything we don’t notice. It’s like… high-fructose corn syrup.”

Everyone stares at me.

“It’s in everything,” I explain. “But you don’t see it unless you look for it.”

“Huh.” Felise blinks. “Yeah. Well. We can do better.” She straightens. “We’ve got your back, Romy. The board may be upset with you, but we’re with you. You have another meeting with the board, right?”

“Yes. I’m going to apologize.”

“We’re going with you.”

“Whoa.” I shake my head. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes. We do. And we’re bringing friends. There are a lot of women in the Witchy Women group who are pissed off about this. They’ll have to deal with all of us.”

My heart nearly bursts with love and happiness. But… “I don’t want to cause more problems! The elders will extra hate me if this turns into something bigger.”

“You didn’t cause the problems. You just exposed them,” Magan says firmly. “We need to address this.”

“It’s about time,” Felise adds.

“I love you guys.” I lean my head into Magan’s shoulder, then Felise’s.

“Drink! To Romy’s fabulous brain.” Felise lifts a glass of pink bubbly. “Let’s make a plan!”

19

Trace

Romy wants me to meet her friends. Or maybe she wants them to meet me. I’m not sure, but I have a feeling I’m going to be judged.

We’re going to the Putt Hut to play miniature golf under black lights. I’ve never done this, but I’m a pretty good golfer, so it sounds okay to me. I pick up Romy at her place, and we meet Kesha and Hannah there.

Their greetings are friendly enough. They seem nice. We laugh a lot as we knock balls around in a dark and brightly colored, glowing world. It’s better than I expected. Romy doesn’t agree. She’s a terrible mini golfer.

As she stands ready to hit her ball, I say, “Spread your legs a little more.”

Her head whips up, and she stares at me.

“Also you need to adjust your grip.”

Kesha and Hannah collapse in laughter while Romy gets all flustered.

I move up behind her to show her what I mean.

“In the hole!” She yells after she taps it and watches it roll.

I crack up laughing too. “That’s what she said.”

We’re all cackling so hard we barely see her hole in one.

“There you go!” I give her a fist bump.

When I hit my ball a little too hard and it goes off the green, er, black, I go behind a big bright palm tree to try to find it.

“Hey!” Kesha calls. “What’s the difference between a G-spot and a golf ball lost in the rough?”

I don’t answer.

“Guys will spend at least five minutes looking for a golf ball!”

The girls all high five, laughing.

“Very funny,” I say, returning