When I got home from The Belly Up Diner, I found a pink, flower-perfumed envelope in my mailbox. The return address read Anything Goes.
My stomach sank. At the same time, a weird sense of hope made me hot and cold all over. I thought I wanted a coven to help me better myself as a witch, but I wasn't so sure the Anything Goes were for me. What if they were, though? I could adapt. Sort of. Okay, not really.
I returned to my apartment and cracked the window above the window seat. Already, the perfumey envelope gave me a headache. Inside, huge, loopy handwriting was scrawled across the pink paper. I sat down next to Studmuffin, who was arranged into a kitty loaf, and slowly began to decipher the words.
Dear Vitcoria (no joke - I read it six times, and that's still not how you spell my na
