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Misty wandered anxiously into the greenhouse, careful not to make too much noise. She felt like the coven’s house existed in only two states: deafening noise and empty silence. Either everyone in the coven was screaming and smashing furniture and fighting, or they were off by themselves in their rooms doing god-knows-what, but doing it so quietly that Misty thought she might go mad.
Breaking the silence seemed taboo, unless it was to start a fight, so she’d kept the needle off her record player and laid in bed staring at the ceiling, running through Stevie Nicks songs in her head to stave off the madness.
Although solitude was nothing new to her, she hadn’t expected to feel its sting while surrounded by so many people. In a way, the presence of the other witches only made her lonelier, especially when all they did was give her strange looks and a wide berth. They all seemed to agree that she was strange, and found some unity amidst all their chaos in their decision that she was an outsider.
Misty had crept down to the greenhouse to cry, hoping that she’d be out of earshot of Fiona and the girls, and protected from humiliation; she didn’t need to be known as the swamp freak and the crybaby. As she looked up, however, she caught a glimpse of blonde hair and stopped in her tracks. Her breath caught in her throat as she turned on her heel, and she hoped she hadn’t been seen. With one word, her hopes were dashed.
“Misty?”
She stopped again and shut her eyes.
Shit.
“Sorry, Miss Cordelia,” she called weakly, “I didn’t mean to bother you.”
“You’re not bothering me,” Cordelia’s voice sounded more confident, “why don’t you stay a while? I could use your help.”
Taking a deep breath, Misty followed Cordelia’s voice, ducking under low-hanging leaves and avoiding ruts in the stone floor. When Cordelia smiled at her with the warmth of a summer day, she couldn’t help but bow her head as her cheeks began to flush.
“What’d you need my help with?”
A quiet scraping sound drew her attention away from her own feet and back towards Cordelia, who slid a small, green watering can across the table and into her hands.
“When I tell you, you have to promise not to laugh-”
“I promise,” Misty nodded seriously, taking the watering can in her hands and cradling it as though it were made of glass.
“Could you water the plants that are hanging up high in the corner? I can’t reach them.”
In spite of herself, Misty grinned, an impish light in her eye as Cordelia looked at her and accused teasingly, “you promised not to laugh!”
“I’m not laughin’,” Misty snickered, turning and walking to the corner. She tipped the watering can into each of the hanging plants, and continued, “but if you don’t mind me askin’, if you can’t reach ‘em, how’ve you been waterin’ ‘em all this time?”
Without saying a word, Cordelia appeared beside her with her cheeks puffed out, and fired a stream of water from her lips up into one of the hanging baskets.
Misty’s eyes widened with delight as she squeaked out, “really?” unable to contain her excitement.
“No,” Cordelia laughed, “I usually get Fiona to do it. She acts like she doesn’t care, but every now and then…” she trailed off wistfully, then shook her head, chuckling again, “I’m actually amazed I didn’t miss.”
Misty blushed, embarrassed for having believed her, then went back to tending the last of the plants before returning the watering can.
“Anythin’ else you need, Miss Cordelia?”
“Just two things: first, you can stop calling me Miss-”
“Sorry-”
“It’s okay, Misty,” Cordelia put her hand on Misty’s shoulder, and she flinched at the contact, “and second, you can tell me what’s wrong.”
Misty looked away again, overwhelmed by Cordelia’s honey-sweet gaze, and mumbled, “nothin’s wrong, M- I mean, Cordelia. I’d just never been in here before and wanted to see-”
Cordelia threw her arms around Misty’s shoulders and hugged her tight, and it took several moments of surprise before the younger witch had the capacity to hug her back. When she did, she found herself counting the seconds, her heart beating faster as time dragged on like flowing molasses until, finally, Cordelia let go.
Misty kept her eyes fixed on the ground until she felt Cordelia’s finger on her chin, and then let her face be directed gently upwards until she was bathing in the radiance of the headmistress’ stare.
Cordelia sighed,“I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that. You can tell me anything, Misty. You know that, right?”
Even though she had to look down to meet Cordelia’s eyes, Misty felt smaller than ever as she confessed, her bottom lip trembling, “the other girls were arguin’ again today. Somethin’ about Kyle, I don’t know. They won’t talk to me, ever, ‘less they have to. Sometimes I just want to start somethin’ myself; I’d rather they scream at me than ignore me. I’m just lonely. And I miss Stevie.”
Cordelia brushed her fingers through Misty’s hair as she spoke, taking great care not to get tangled in the soft curls. A tear slipped its way down Misty’s cheek, and Cordelia wiped it away with her thumb.
“Oh, Misty,” Cordelia sighed, empathy thick in her voice, “I know this house can go from one extreme to another, but you’re not alone here. Anytime at all you need something, you come ask me, alright? And you can always come to the greenhouse to get away for a while.”
Misty nodded, closing her eyes so that she could better feel Cordelia’s hands on her cheeks and in her hair.
“Hey,” Cordelia whispered encouragingly, and Misty opened her eyes again, “why don’t you go get your record player? Move it in here and we can lock the door and listen to Fleetwood Mac until we have to go back inside for dinner?”
A butterfly fluttered somewhere in Misty’s heart as a smile spread across her face, and a humming, vibrating warmth seeped into her skin. She felt something deep in her chest pulling her forward, until she pressed her lips once, gently, against Cordelia’s, and drew back again.
Everything in her world suddenly moving too quickly, Misty took a step back and knocked into a table, making a terrific clattering sound as she jostled all the mason jars resting on top.
“I’m gonna go get Stevie,” she said too loudly, and out of breath, “then we can, you know, do what you said. Until dinner.”
She raced out of the room and up the stairs, thundering through the house and into her room to retrieve her music.
Cordelia laughed quietly to herself, and spoke at barely a whisper, “I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted you to do that.”