Witch way

Harper, no.” The sharp reprimand sliced through the air, but Harper didn’t flinch. She was too focused, her tiny hands poised mid-air as she examined the open circuit board of the broken fan. “Playing” wasn’t the right word for what she was doing—not in her mind, anyway. This was curiosity, exploration, discovery. But that’s not how others saw it. To them, it was mischief, trouble waiting to happen. Her inquisitive mind was a constant source of reprimand, always misinterpreted as disobedience. Harper couldn’t understand what she’d done wrong. The world around her was full of mysteries, and she was pulled toward them, compelled to understand how things worked and what made them tick. With her round cheeks and big, brown doe eyes, Harper had a knack for defusing her mother’s scolding. It wasn’t intentional—she wasn’t manipulative—but there was something about her that people couldn’t resist. There was an element of mystery in her, a quiet confidence wrapped in something unexplainable. Fear and pain didn’t govern her actions the way they seemed to for everyone else. It wasn’t that she was fearless; it was that the possibility of what might be waiting to be discovered outweighed any negative outcome. But this, too, was a double-edged sword. This unshakable curiosity would one day lead her to places she wasn’t ready to face—situations that spiralled beyond her control. But for now, she was just a five-year-old girl, oblivious to the larger forces that would soon shape her life. “Harper. No. I SAID NO!” The words ricocheted through their small, overheated apartment, but Harper’s focus didn’t waver. Her mother’s frustration carried a weight that Harper only half-registered. From across the cluttered hallway, her mother—barely 5’3”, perched on a counter, trying to cook while juggling the chaos of three young girls—shouted once more. It was summer break, and the cramped space felt even smaller with everyone home all day. Reena, Harper’s eldest sister, finally stepped in. At seven years old, she was the family’s steady anchor. Plain, skinny, and unassuming, she didn’t stand out much, but her quiet competence was a constant in their chaotic lives. Without hesitation, she pulled Harper away from the fan. “Come on, Harper,” she said softly, her tone patient as always. Reena was dependable, but she lacked confidence—something Harper never seemed to run short on. She was the perfect big sister: helpful, nurturing, and always first to shoulder the load. Holly, their youngest sibling, was the opposite. Barely a year old, Holly demanded constant attention, her cries a constant backdrop to their days. She was chaotic, loud, and needy, pulling every ounce of energy from their mother. Harper, the middle child, lived in her own little world. She tuned out the noise and the chaos, retreating to her thoughts—thoughts that often drifted to the stars. Late at night, she would stare out the apartment window, her mind wandering to galaxies far beyond her reach. She wondered what it was like out there in the infinite expanse of space—a universe so vast, so full of burning stars, nebulas, and mysteries yet to be discovered. School wasn’t much different. Harper constantly found herself in trouble for zoning out, for asking questions the teachers couldn’t answer, for veering off-topic. The system didn’t know what to do with her. They acknowledged her intelligence but failed to nurture it. To Harper, school was just another confining box, one that could never satisfy her hunger for the unknown. The apartment always smelled of soup—a constant reminder of their mother’s endless balancing act. Money was tight, and every meal was a testament to her creativity with a limited budget. Harper’s mother worked a part-time job, cared for three daughters, and still managed to keep going, even after their father had left. Harper didn’t dwell on her father much anymore unless someone mentioned it unexpectedly. She knew he had run off when Holly was born, chasing after someone younger, prettier, healthier. She wasn’t angry, not anymore. She told herself he deserved to be happy, but deep down, she saw what it had done to her mother. Once a woman who could captivate a room, her mother now faded into the background, her glow dimmed by exhaustion and the weight of single parenthood. “Mum, school trip for me and Harper next week.” Reena slid a crumpled permission slip across the table. Their mother glanced at it, already looking defeated. “Another trip? Didn’t you have one last month?” Reena rolled her eyes. “That would’ve been hard since we were home on break last month.” “How much?” “Thirty-five dollars.” Her mother’s sigh was heavy, and Harper recognised the look in her eyes all too well. It was the same look that meant Harper wouldn’t be going. She used to feel angry about it, but now she found solace in the quiet of staying behind. There was one teacher, Mr. Grayson, who always made those days bearable. Tall and grey-haired, with a suit that was slightly too big, he would sit with Harper in the library, helping her find books that fed her restless mind. His breath always smelled of coffee and satsumas, but Harper didn’t mind. He was kind, the sort of steady presence she imagined a grandfather might be. But not all days at school were peaceful. The slap was deafening. It wasn’t the sound—it was the ripple of stunned silence that followed. Harper’s hand still stung from the impact as the blonde girl she’d struck staggered back, clutching her cheek in disbelief. “ARE YOU INSANE?!” one of the girls shrieked, rushing to shield her friend. Harper stood frozen, her breath ragged. She couldn’t even remember what the girl had said. Something about her father—why he didn’t show up to the awards ceremony. Whether it had been sarcasm or a genuine question didn’t matter. The word “dad” was all Harper had heard, and it was enough to ignite the fury she kept buried deep inside. She didn’t mean to hit her. But the rage had consumed her, blinding her to reason. “Harper Kemp. My office. NOW.” The teacher’s voice snapped her back to reality. Harper didn’t protest as the room spun around her, the whispers of her classmates fading into the background. She knew she’d gone too far. She always did. But there was something inside her—something wild, uncontrollable—that refused to stay hidden. And for reasons she didn’t yet understand, it terrified her. It was slapping her or remarking back about how a rumor was going round how this girls mum had been caught in the parking lot with one of the r.s. teachers doing something obscene, but the last time she said something that had got her into trouble, and she was told not to spread rumors (it wasn't a rumor, she had seen the video). Harper sat alone in the English tutor’s office, the silence oppressive and heavy. The room was as sterile as a hospital ward, no warmth or personality, save for a few books on a shelf. She glanced over the titles, her eyes briefly resting on one — “The Bible.” She scoffed, turning away without a second thought. Not now. Not ever. Her hand drifted to a book titled Nostradamus. It wasn’t the usual fare she would pick up, but there was something compelling about it. She skimmed its pages, delving into the predictions of future events, of impending doom, of life-changing shifts. Her mind hummed with an eerie sensation of knowing, of being connected to the currents of time itself. Her friends and peers had often called her an “old soul,” but Harper knew it went deeper than that. There was something inside her — an uncanny awareness of the world around her, a knowledge that made people uncomfortable. She was, as always, just herself. Tick, tick, tick. The clock on the wall seemed to echo louder as her mind wandered deeper. That was when the door opened. “Again, Harper?” Mrs. Liasis’ voice was quiet, but firm. She entered the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. “Again what?” Harper’s voice was laced with indifference as she continued to stare out the window, pretending not to care. “You can’t treat people like this. I’ll have to log this incident down, you know that. We may have to suspend you. Vicky’s parents have been contacted, and they’re not happy. They want full suspension.” Harper turned, her eyes burning with a simmering fury. “She talked about my dad. I’ve told her before not to. And she still went there.” “I know, but that doesn’t mean you should react like this.” “I saw red.” Her voice was raw, and she could barely contain the anger bubbling just below the surface. “Again?” “I tried to stop it. I did try, but I just couldn’t control myself.” Mrs. Liasis sighed, her face softening for a moment. “You need to apologize.” “I’m not apologizing.” “Why not?” “An apology means I didn’t mean it. But I did mean it. She crossed the line, and no one ever does anything about it.” Mrs. Liasis leaned back in her chair, her lips curling into a slight smile. “I can’t say you’re wrong. But you do know the consequences, don’t you? I’ve fought for you before, Harper, but this time… I’m not sure I can win this one for you.” “Then I accept it.” Harper grabbed her bag, her voice almost hollow. “Send me home with my work. I’ll do it at home. At least it’s quiet there.” “Harper, I haven’t said you could leave.” “Is there anything else? Or can you call my mom and let her know as usual?” She stood at the door, her back to Mrs. Liasis. “Harper, you’re so incredibly intelligent. You could do anything you set your mind to. Why do you hold yourself back?” “Because people don’t want intelligence. They want pretty, dumb, and air-headed. Tall blondes with nothing behind their eyes.” Harper slammed the door behind her, not waiting for Mrs. Liasis’ response. The corridor stretched before her, an empty hallway lined with doors to nowhere. She wasn’t in the mood to go home, but she wasn’t in the mood for school either. She pulled out her phone, checking the messages from Charlie. R U AT HOME? NO SCHOOL IVE BEEN SENT HOME WANNA MEET? I CANT MY PARENTS HAVE ALREADY CAUGHT ME TWICE. CMON IT WILL BE FUN NO HARPER I DONT WANT TO GET INTO TROUBLE. She stared at the screen for a long moment, frustration swelling within her. Maybe if she didn’t always get into trouble, things would be easier. But that wasn’t her. Everything was boring. Schoolwork, people, all of it. It was easy, and it was dull. Nothing challenged her, nothing made her feel alive. She threw her phone into her bag and started walking, the city around her bustling with life.