I run back into the kitchen. Mom's head jolts up. "What's wrong?" she asks.

My breath comes heavy and fast, like I ran a marathon. "The cops," I pant." Are... coming... to speak to... me."

Her eyes widened. "They're coming here? Why?" she asks.

"They think... I did it."

Her eyes can't possibly widen anymore but they do. "They think you did it?"

I nod.

Mom throws her apron off and lets it flutter to the ground. "No way. My daughter did no such thing!" She stomps past me.

"Where are you going?" I call after her.

She comes back in. "I don't know!" she exclaims as she throws her arms up. "Somewhere to wait for the cops."

Somehow a laugh escapes from me, and soon Mom is joining in too. When our laughter has died down and my stomach is sore, Mom speaks. "How about I finish this batch of cookies and you clean up the kitchen? That way, when they get here they can have some fresh cookies and can sit in a nice, warm and clean kitchen."

I nod and we get to work. I put all the ingredients away, scrub the counters until they're spotless and pack up the already cooked and cooled goodies. Of course I sneak a few bites that Mom sees.

By the time Mom pulls the fresh baked cookies out of the oven the chime of the doorbell rings through the house.

She sets the tray done as she says, "I'll go answer the door. You stay here."

I nod and she leaves the kitchen. I fiddle with the hem of my shirt as voices float towards me. "Good afternoon officers," Mom greets. "Come in."

"Thank you for having us. We just have a few things to talk about," says a deep voice.

"It won't take long," says a lighter voice.

Mom rounds the corner, behind her is a male cop with the badge name Roger. He has dark skin and he wears his hair in dreadlocks. Behind him is a chubby older lady with silver hair. She doesn't wear a name tag.

"Lumi! It's nice to meet," Roger says, reaching his hand out for me to shake.

I stop fiddling with my shirt to shake it.

"This is my partner Ve," he says, gesturing to the lady.

"We've come to talk to you about some things," she says. She says it in a matter of fact way.

"Like what?" I ask. I can't stop myself from picturing my hands in cuffs.

"Why don't we sit down?" Ve suggests.

"Of course. Would you like some cookies? They're nice and warm," Mom offers.

Roger takes a cookie, but Ve refuses. Once we're all sitting around the island Ve speaks, "how have you been doing Lumi?"

I shift in my seat. "Okay, I guess."

"We have some questions for you," Roger says. He's got crumbs falling from his face as he says it. Making a mess on the counter I just cleaned.

"Like what?" Mom asks.

"Did you see anyone when you arrived at Madam Mara's house?" asks Ve.

"No."

"And you swear you didn't see a weapon?" asks Roger.

"Nope."

Ve turns to Mom. "Can you confirm that she came here before heading to her lesson?"

"Yes. She came and dropped her bag off and took a shower," Mom tells her.

"And you aren't covering for her?"

"No! She didn't do it!" Mom exclaims

Ve sighs and turns to Roger. They seem to somehow communicate with each other without saying anything. They stay like that for a few minutes, sometimes their eyebrows move or they frown. When they seem to be done, they turn back to us.

"Lumi, your training wasn't complete. Do you believe that you were ahead of her other students?" Roger asks.

I shrug. "I'm not sure. I know I was her first student but she never said I was ahead."

"But do you think you were? Did she ever tell you about any of her other trainees?"

I shake my head. "She never talked about them, and I don't believe I was ahead of them."

"Why not?" Ve asks.

"We talked a lot about history when I was younger, and I always thought it was to make sure I wasn't getting ahead."

They share a look.

Ve turns to me, leaning forward over the table. "You were set to finish your training the year you graduate."

I stare. I knew this. It was in my report. "Isn't everyone?" I ask.

She shakes her head. Her grey eyes examine my face. "They were set to finish in ten years."

I wait for her to start laughing and tell me it's a joke. But when she doesn't I look to Roger who shakes his head as if he can tell what I'm thinking.

"I have two years left, while everyone else has ten?" I ask. That can't be possible. She spent so long teaching me about the history of the witches and our town. Was that all part of her training? I'd always thought it was so I didn't get ahead, so that all of us would have a fair shot to become the protector.

"You did!" Roger exclaims.

Mom's hands wrap around my arm and her nails start to dig in. "You were ahead of everyone Lumi!" she exclaims, like it's good news.

"Does this mean..." I can't finish the sentence. If I finish the sentence it's like admitting she's really gone and not coming back.

"It means you're the new protector of Roseborn!" all of them exclaim at once.

It's like a slap to the face. With a wet cold fish. This wasn't supposed to happen so soon. Madam Mara was supposed to be alive when this happened. I need to finish my training before I can be the protector.

"What about my training?" I ask in a weak voice.

Roger raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I- I didn't finish it!" My face gets hot and water starts to well in my eyes.

"That's okay dear." Ve reaches out to me. "You are more than ready for this."

"But- but I'm not! I'm not ready!"

Ve turns to Mom. "The ceremony will be held after the funeral. Best to get her a pretty dress to wear."

Did she not just hear I'm not ready? I can't be doing this, not without Madam Mara. Not so soon.

"Dress shopping? That could take all week with this one!" Mom laughs. "Glad I did the baking today!"

How are they acting like all of this is alright?

I turn away from them and wipe the tears that have already started down my face.

"Psst." I look at Roger. He's the only one with a sour face. "I'm sorry that she died, but I can promise we're on the case."

"Thanks," I whisper.

He nods. "And how bad can it be? Being the protector?"

I shrug. But I'll find out soon.

"Is that all?" I ask.

"Yes, I believe so," Ve says, turning to look at Roger to confirm. He nods.

"I'm going to go upstairs then," I say as I slide off the stool.

"You okay honey?" Mom asks.

I nod. When she doesn't protest I slip out of the room. As I walk up the stairs I hear her tell the police, "she hasn't been handling this well. She was very close to Madam Mara."

I don't hear if the police respond to her.

I run up the stairs, tears trailing down my face. How can they dismiss her death so easily? Why are the cops telling us all of this when they should be out there looking for the killer?

I run into the bathroom and quietly close the door behind me. My breath is coming fast and it's like my lungs are filling with Madam Mara's blood.

I'm not ready for any of this. How can she just die on me? I was supposed to have more time. This is all happening too fast. Isn't there a pause button? All I would need is a few hours.

I strip my clothes off and hop into the shower. I turn it to the hottest it can go. When the water hitting my arms turns to burning pebbles stinging when they make contact with my skin, I make a barrier.

I put my hands out over my head and push. My fingers start to go numb as ice builds an inch above them. The ice slowly spreads out and over, like a bubble protecting me from the scalding water. The barrier has millions of different patterns to it. Each one is made up of a different snowflake.

The warmth gets squeezed out as the temperature cools in the bubble. The water hits the barrier with a soft drip sound, and slides down the outside of it.

For a moment the beauty of it distracts me from the outside world.

***

Thursday, 3 weeks before arrest

I stand on a circle platform in front of a mirror. I watch Mom's eyes as she takes in the dress. "It's beautiful!" she exclaims.

The long neck of the dress plunges down into a v and the top of the cobalt blue dress shines bright with silver, sparkling rhinestones. The multilayered skirt hangs just above my knees. I admit it is beautiful. But it feels wrong to wear it with Madam Mara being dead and her funeral being held an hour before my ceremony.

"What do you think of it?" Mom asks. Her eyes are lit up like a Christmas tree, and her voice is high and soft.

"It's nice," I say.

Her expression falters before she puts on a tight lipped smile. "This is the tenth dress you've tried on," she grinds out. "Isn't there one you like?"

I want to tell her that there isn't but how can I say that without hurting her feelings?

Mom must sense my hesitation because she says, "why don't we take a break?"

I nod and hop off the platform. Mom turns to the sales associate and asks for her to hold our dressing room and our dresses. Once I'm changed we leave the shop and head to the food court where we order pretzels.

Once we have found a table and are sitting Mom asks, "why don't you like any of the dresses?"

I sigh. "It's not that I don't like them."

She gives me a disbelieving look.

I look down at my pretzel to avoid her persistent gaze. "It's just hard to get into the dress shopping mode when I don't feel like celebrating anything," I admit.

She reaches out and snabs a piece of my pretzel. "Hey!" I gasp.

She smiles. "Just because you're picking out a dress for your protector ceremony doesn't mean it's erasing Madam Mara's death. It's honouring her wish that you become the new protector."

"It is?" I ask, taking a bite.

She nods. "And if you really wanted you could just wear your funeral outfit."

I scrunch my nose. "No thanks."

"Then how about when we're done, we go and pick out a dress?" she suggests.

I nod and tell her, "I liked that last dress."

"You did?" She perks up, sitting straight in her chair.

"I did." I give her a small smile.

"I'm glad kiddo."

After we finished our pretzels we went back to the store and bought the dress. It still hurt to be doing something nice when Madam Mara was dead, but Mom was right. As long as I was honouring her wish I wouldn't be forgetting her.