“This is unacceptable.”

If it were any other voice, Rowan would have paid it no mind. Firstly, because she didn't have enough mind to pay at that moment; second, Rowan Cairns had always been unacceptable and the world paid no kindness to things like her.

She was not Adelaide Scott; the voice railing at her was.

“It's one thing for you never to attend classes — you've never cared enough about any of this — but you don't get to ruin this for me. Are you even listening, Cairns?”

Rowan cut in, “I must not be listening well enough, because I think I heard you tell me what I do and don't get to do.”

Her voice sounded devoid of any supposed anger, even to her own ears. She wanted to blame Adelaide, claim she'd pillaged the room of all disdain and haughtiness with none left for Rowan, but that wasn't quite true. Adelaide had always burned brighter, but that was not why Rowan couldn't bring herself to glimmer most days. If anything, Adelaide was the reason life still smoldered somewhere in her bones. She was the sun to Rowan's barren rock, forever stuck in a distant orbit.

“I looked at him, and I smiled, and said, I’ll see you in a few months, and Please remember to shave, and he nodded, and I kissed both of his cheeks and hugged him tight, but not tight enough to last me a lifetime. See you soon, I said, and I wonder—did he know I wouldn’t see him again? Was part of him already missing? I still ask myself if there was anything at all that I could have done. If we can’t save those that we love, then what can we do at all? Ninety-three days later, the TV was buzzing in the background while he sat on the side of his bed, opened the bottom drawer of his bedside table, and pulled out a gun. The TV was buzzing as he stood in front of his wardrobe mirror, opened his mouth, and rested the tip of gun on his tongue. The gunshot startled the neighbours, who called the police. When they found him, he was dead. And clean shaven.”

The way I made friends was the way shy little girls entered the pool. They stood on the top step in the shallow end, and then took another, and another, until they were standing three feet deep. This was like being pushed into the deep end.

She stopped short as the classroom door opened. A slight breeze wafted in from the hallway, cooler than the body-filled classroom, regardless how high the ceilings were. A tall boy walked in, his button-down uniform shirt nearly as tight as Lana’s had been. He walked as though he were campaigning for something, though I had no idea what. 

“Terribly sorry,” he said, scanning the classroom for an open seat, then turning to smile at her. 

“Mr. Caldwell,” Mrs. Sawyer said. “So lovely of you to join us…” She glanced at the clock beside the door. “What is it now, twenty minutes late?” Her tone was hard to interpret—like she meant to be stern, but each word was cloaked in fondness. 

“Twenty-three, unfortunately,” Caldwell replied, running his hand through his dark curls. He  seemed mildly bothered by his tardiness, but not at all bothered by Mrs. Sawyer calling him on it.

• Althea is one of the witches in what previously was Cameron's mom's coven.
• Her gift is psychometry
• But since she won't use it, her other specialty is herbal magic
• She discovered her powers when she came into her parents' bedroom as a kid. Touching the headboard, she saw her dad with another woman.
• When Althea told her mom, she was brought to a psychologist.
• It was Cameron's mom, Prue, that saved her from years and years of people telling her she didn't actually see anything. Prue told Althea's mom that she had a natural remedy for her, and she told Althea what to say to adults. Prue took her under her protective wing, so now Althea is hellbent on finding her before it's too late.
• She has an half sister, born from her dad's affair. The two of them hang out sometimes. Althea resents her dad for what he did, but her sister - she discovered - is actually a nice person, and has no fault in that.
• Given that Althea sensed the demon when she touched the burnt mark it left at Prue's house, she is the only one who can truly track it.
• Althea dresses in mixed styles; she likes leather booths and jackets, and she wears her crystals and her necklaces at the same time. Sometimes she dresses more simply, sometimes she likes to imitate what a witch should look like
• She's the grumpy part of the group.

“I can’t sleep, Ahn”, she said, her voice too high pitched. Ahn didn’t know what to say but the sadness in the other’s voice tore at her heart. Evil? Jeanne? Crying Jeanne?

 “I am so sorry I shouldn’t bother you, I am sorry”, the muffled voice appeared in the phone again.

 “No, no it’s okay. I am here for you”, Ahn replied out of reflex and as she spoke her own voice was cracking too. Mira took her hand, patiently waiting until she would tell her what happened. “Why can’t you sleep?”, she asked quietly and ignored the irritated looks on Mira and Eymen’s face.

 “I – I am afraid.” A sob. “Are you really believing me now? […]” Her voice was shaking so bad, the beeping hospital machines in the background went a little faster now. “I am so afraid he will look for me.” A gasp. “I am so scared, Ahn. And I am so sorry.”

Ahn couldn’t help herself anymore and now tears were running down her face as well.

 “I am sorry too, Jeanne”, she cried into her phone and took a deep breath. “Let’s work together then yes? Please let’s just focus on this one thing.”

 “Yes. But I still will never forgive you”, Jeanne sobbed. Ahn started to laugh out loud over her own tears.

 “That’s fine, I will never forgive you either.”