“I want to show you something,” Thaddeus says. He drives down a side road and stops in front of a stretch of marsh. We get out of the car, and he points to a lone tree.
“See it?”
I nod. The tree is decorated, roots to tip, with bright shoes, Easter grass, ribbon, and glass bottles.
“What is it?”
“That’s the Tree of Life. The locals decorate it. It’s a Gullah tradition.”
“Cool,” I say, unsure of what to reveal. How much does Thaddeus know?
Suddenly, a huge clap of thunder shakes the car. We both jump.
“Wow,” Thaddeus says, pointing to a black cloud looming to the west. “I didn’t see that coming.” Fat drops start hitting the windshield. “I was going to take you to the beach…. Well, we’ve come all this way. Want to at least see our beach house?”
I nod giddily. “Sure.”
“I should warn you: It’s a dinosaur of a place. No one goes there but me.”
“Sounds perfect.”
He drives past the tacky beach bars and the crab shacks. According to my grandmother, Tybee used to be the ultimate Southern classy beach resort, but “ruffians” have taken over. Not to be classist, but it sort of looks as though she’s right: The shore is clogged with bars sporting signs for beer and wet T-shirt contests, and stores selling bright beach toys and sunglasses. The far end of the shore is quieter. He drives us to a cluster of beach houses at the slightly wooded, peaceful area of the island and pulls up in front of an old, weathered bungalow with a wraparound screened porch that faces the ocean.
The rain is pouring down in sheets now. We run from the car to the house, screaming and laughing. He fishes a key out of his pocket and opens the door. When I look around, I love it instantly. The air smells like old books and sunscreen—sort of like the Main at the RC, minus the pot. We wander from room to room. Most of the furniture has been covered by white drop cloths, creating an effect of lazy ghosts lounging on the floor.
“We hardly come here anymore,” Thaddeus says. “We’re always in Hilton Head or downtown or whatever. But I’m glad it’s in the family.” We go back to the porch and look out at the beach. Suddenly I feel shy, even though we’ve been hanging out constantly.
“Sit with me,” he says, touching my waist. He takes my hand and leads me to an old wicker sofa. He’s dragged a blanket out of one of the closets, and together we huddle under it, legs and hips touching. He reaches over and plays with my talis bracelet. For a while we don’t say anything. I wish my mom could see me. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.
“So, tell me about your life,” he finally says.
“Right.”
He presses into my arm. “No, seriously.”
I pause. Where to start? Growing up as a hippie? Life on a pot farm? Teen voodoo spells?
“You first,” I say.
“You know it all. I grew up in Savannah. My mom’s a Magnolia, my dad’s a rich doctor. We’re pretty normal. I like tennis and reading. And girls.” He grins, pulling a strand of my hair.
“Can I ask—” I hesitate. “Can I ask about you and Madison?”
He shifts away ever so slightly. “I was wondering when this would come up.”
“What happened?”
“I’ve always liked her. Even when we were little. I mean, she’s gorgeous, of course.”
I nod, trying not to appear as devastated as I feel.
“But we have nothing in common, so I never went there. Then something just… happened to me. Well, actually, I know what happened. She pulled a spell.”
I swallow. “So you know about those?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I live in a house filled with Magnolia women. They never told me, of course—they never tell anyone. But I read my sister’s diary.”
“Why didn’t you mention anything before?”
“I keep it on the DL that I know. And I can’t see that it hurts anyone, anyway. The Buzzards get dough, and the Magnolias get power or whatever. As long as they don’t screw with me. Because last year, they definitely did.” He rubs his neck. “Did Madison tell you?”
I shake my head.
“Well, I don’t know what she slipped me, but it made me completely… mad, really. It came on very suddenly. These spells are extremely powerful elements. I was unhealthily obsessed. I had dreams about her, and serious urges…. I was going out of my mind.”
“Right,” I say, my stomach curdling at the thought