Sam

I woke up to my mom yelling my name.

It took me a few minutes too long to realize she wasn't yelling at me — it was almost four thirty in the morning — but that she was yelling about me.

Uncertainly, I eased open my bedroom door and stepped into the hallway. At first, I thought that I was just eavesdropping on my parents talking about the car accident again. It wouldn't have been the first heated conversation they had gotten into over it, and I suspected it had more to do with my father not thinking it was as big of a deal as my mother apparently did.

"You have to keep them away from Sam," my mom snarled, and I could hear the poignant pop, pop, pop of her heels against the wooden floor. "I don't care what Drew and Angel keep saying — Millie is dangerous, I don't want her anywhere near my son."

"Keep it down, Daniella," a familiar voice said as I crouched at the top of the stairs, holding onto the railing to keep from falling over. "You're going to wake Sam up, and you don't need him asking any more questions."

"I don't care, Bridget!" My mom snapped, slightly muffled. I could imagine her turning away from her best friend and staring out the kitchen window, toward the Clearwater house. "I just need you to keep that stupid family away from my son."

I shifted, leaning my head against the railing.

I knew my mom hated the Clearwater family, and had since I was a kid, but I'd thought it was mostly because she thought they were freaks — I'd never thought that it was a real, deep hatred. It wasn't like the crash was Millie's fault; if anything, I was the one who had almost killed her, while I'd escaped unscathed.

And what the hell did my mom think Brandon's mom could do about Millie's family?

"Daniella," Bridget said softly, her voice barely audible. "What did you think would happen? Your families are in the stars —"

"Just shut up," my mom interrupted. "Do not go there."

"I'm just saying, what happened with Drew all those years ago, and now with Sam and Millie..."

"What happened with Drew is nothing like what happened with Sam and Millie," my mom said harshly. "Drew was never — he'd never be cursed, not like Lola. You know that. This is different. Sam could die because of that stupid little girl! He almost did!"

"Millie didn't ask Sam out," Bridget reminded my mom gently. "It was the other way around, and you know it. But fine, whatever, Millie and Sam are nothing like you and Drew, I get that, I understand it, but you have to be reasonable. You can't expect me to just put a spell on Millie to keep her away from Sam, can you?"

There was a long, heavy silence that followed.

"Daniella..." Bridget warned. "You want me to put a spell on Millie, like the girl doesn't have enough magic messing with her life?"

My blood seemed to freeze. What the fuck were they talking about? Spells? Magic? What did any of that have to do with Millie?

"It's not her fault," Bridget went on as my mom continued to stay silent. "She didn't ask for this, and you know it."

"Yes, but —"

"But nothing. It was your ancestors and mine —"

"Stop." My mom's voice was hollow, almost broken, and I felt my chest tighten. "I know this isn't Millie's fault, but it's her curse to bear, and she knows about it. Drew said — Drew promised — he'd keep Millie away from Sam. He swore that she wouldn't hurt him, and look! She almost killed him!"

In the silence that followed, I could hear my mom's heavy breathing, and knuckles cracking. I knew it was Bridget, thinking carefully about what to say next; I'd been listening to the cracked knuckles since I was a kid, and Brandon had started talking back.

After a moment, Bridget said, "I should go."

My mom sighed. "Maybe you should."

I heard Bridget push her chair back, and the sound of my mom's heels on the floor.

Panicked, I scrambled to get away from the railing, crawling on my hands and knees back toward my bedroom door. My mom passed right beneath where I'd been moments before and yanked open the front door just as I rolled into my bedroom.

"Think about what I said," my mom said, softly.

"I already thought about it," Bridget replied, her voice flat, "and the answer is no."

The door slammed.

My mom sighed, and before I could blink, let out a small, choked sound. It took me a minute to realize that my mom wasn't coughing...but crying.

I fumbled with the door and pressed it softly shut. Whatever it was my mom thought Millie was going to do to me, it was enough to make her break down. The thought of my mom — the unusually strong and icy woman that she was — crying scared the crap out of me.

I knew that the accident had upset my mom, and I'd seen the look on her face when Angel came to talk to us in the hospital waiting room: suspicious and angry and a little bit scared. But I'd never thought that my mother, as clearheaded and scientific as she was, would ever believe the town rumors that Millie was cursed.

There was only one person I could think of that would be able to answer my questions, and even then I figured it was a long shot..,but a long shot that I had to at least take.

Without turning my lights on, I strode across my room and grabbed my phone off my nightstand, unlocking it and typing out a quick message.

We need to talk.

I hesitated only a moment before hitting send. Nerves bubbled in the pit of my stomach as I waited for a reply.

My nervousness turned into a sinking feeling of panic in my gut as the reply came in.

Be there in 10.

--

By the time the car pulled up in front of my house, exactly ten minutes later, I was a nervous wreck.

I'd hesitated only momentarily before slipping out of my bedroom and down the stairs, past my mom, who was passed out on the couch. Black tears and makeup clung to her cheeks, and her normally perfectly swept dark hair was a ragged mess around her. Her pant-suit, which had been ironed to crisp perfection earlier in the day, was rumpled, her shirt untucked and wrinkled, her collar bent awkwardly behind her neck.

I'd never seen her look less put together than in that moment, and I should've been worried about her, but when I looked down at her, all I felt was...anger.

What was she keeping form me? What the hell had she and Bridget been talking about, curses and magic, and what did it have to do with Millie Clearwater? And, on top of that, how did my mom even know Drew Clearwater? I'd never even seen them look at each other, so why did Bridget think that Millie and I were anything like my mom and Drew?

After staring down at my mom for a beat too long, I slipped out the back door, making sure the latch stayed unlocked as I shut the door quietly. I glanced through the kitchen window to make sure I hadn't woken up my mother before I jumped off the porch and ran around the side of the house.

A dark car idled in front of my mailbox, and I tossed a nervous glance over my shoulder as I slid into the passenger side seat. From here, I could see Millie's house and the moon above it, casting an ominous, pale light over our neighborhood.

"So," I said, turning and looking at the person in the drivers' seat. "Why the fuck does my mom think Millie Clearwater tried to kill me? And why does she think your mom can use magic to keep Millie away from me?"

Brandon smiled through the darkness, his face illuminated by the lights from his dashboard. "I told my mom you would figure it out sooner or later."

"Figure what out?" I asked, shoving my hands into the pockets of my hoodie.

Brandon stared out the windshield. "She didn't believe me, but I kept telling her that when it comes to Millie Clearwater, you're like a dog digging for a bone."

"Brandon," I snapped, "what the hell are you talking about? What did you tell your mom I was going to figure out?"

My best friend looked at me, his expression blank. "I told her you were going to figure out that Millie Clearwater really is cursed."