Free Kelly McClymer-Salem Witch 01 The Salem Witch Tryouts by Kelly McClymer

glasses. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you one day learned to control magma.”
    He blushed. Cute. Hard to believe he might one day be able to toss lava at an enemy. More likely that he wouldn’t, even if he could. “You’re not a slouch yourself. I’ve never seen anyone grow a black orchid overnight.”
    It was Denise’s turn to blush. “That was just lucky timing. The ground was perfect chemically to support that orchid.”
    That’s another thing about Fringies: They appreciate everyone’s unique qualities and say so, whether there’s anything to gain or not. I just ducked my head and ate my lunch. Wonderful. I’d picked a table with kids who had all manifested their Talents.
    “Don’t feel bad. Now that you’re at Agatha’s, you’ll probably manifest any day now.” Denise said, as if she knew what I was thinking.
    “Wow. It’s like you read my mind.” I said it partly as a joke, and partly to check if she really could read my mind.
    “Reading minds is for Air Talents.” She laughed. “All that being an Earth Talent gives me is the ability to read emotions.”
    Lovely. Apparently, my fear was seeping out. I glanced at Samuel. He smiled. “Don’t worry. You
will
manifest soon. Maybe you’ll even manifest a Magic Talent. That’s the best.”
    “Why?”
    “You can control other people’s magic in some way.”
    “What other kinds of Talents are there?”
    Samuel quickly cataloged them. “Magic, Earth, Air, Fire, and Water.” He smiled. “Sometimes they run in families, but not always. My dad is an Air Talent, and my mother was a Magic Talent.” Definitely a geek.
    “Cool.” I came back to earth real quick. “How many half mortals manifest a Magic Talent?” And then, a horrible thought occurred to me. “How many don’t manifest a Talent at all?”
    They all looked embarrassed for a second, and then Maria shrugged. “Not many. Don’t worry about it.”
    Of course I wouldn’t worry about it. I’d just obsess. What can I say? It was my nature.
    Unfortunately, for every one question Samuel answered of mine, I had to answer two of his. While they weren’t completely lame questions, they were mostly classified as “silly myths.” Did mortals really have to drink milk or their bones would turn to mush? Did mortals have six toes? Did mortals sleep with their eyes open? Sigh. It was like looking at a fledgling version of my mother’s relatives—my grandparents andmy aunts and uncles all refused to believe my father wasn’t some bizarre creature who belonged in a zoo. Sometimes I felt that way, too, but not because he was mortal.
    “Do mortals mind that they die so young?” Samuel asked.
    My father’s mother was ninety and going strong, but I knew that was nothing compared with my own mother’s youthful witch age of 346. “They don’t think about it. It’s just the way it is.” Although, if I were to be honest, I’d have to admit that there was an awful lot of literature around death and dying. They even made impressionable ninth graders read
Romeo and Juliet
.
    So I asked a question that my mother and her family avoided when my brother asked (after I put him up to it, of course—he’s an easy patsy). “Do witches ever die?” Maybe that would explain why my grandmama calls the bard’s teenage lovers “incomprehensible puppies.”
    Samuel goggled at me. I’d never seen anything but a cartoon goggle before, but there’s no other word for the way his eyes popped out of his head.
    “Of course we do. But what’s the point of talking about it when it won’t happen for forever?” Denise shook her head, and I felt like I’d stepped in some deep doggie doo somehow.
    “Unless we’re killed—usually by mortals,” Samuel added darkly. For a minute I thought my curry and my chair were going to disappear.
    “She’s new, she didn’t mean anything.” Maria put her hand on his arm.
    “No offense.” I held up my hands in the universal gesture, wondering if it applied in