Free Caged in Darkness by J. D. Stroube Page B

approached my
16 th birthday.
    If my emotions became chaotic, my gift would
inevitably follow. I had nightmares the bonfire would turn into a
real life Carrie remake and I would star as the psychotic witch who
destroys everyone in a fiery rage. I knew this was unlikely, but it
didn’t stop me from worrying.
    I would be a landmine hidden beneath the
teenage population, awaiting an unwary shadow to make a wrong step,
in the unending pursuit of impressing the teenage socialites that
were the cafeteria one crowd. That wrong step could result in an
explosion of my power and could have seriously terrible
consequences.
    It was times like this that I regretted
keeping my other life separate from Izzy. She wasn’t a witch, but
she was my friend and someone who I thought would understand.
    I put the finishing touches on my makeup and
stared in the mirror. Izzy and Willow were getting ready in the
bedroom, but I wanted to be alone. I was feeling nervous about
going out looking like this; especially when my gifts were acting
up.
    I groaned at my appearance. I chose to leave
my hair down for once and let it dry naturally. Loose curls hung
down my back with wild abandon. I rarely wore make up, but Izzy
taught me some techniques. I gave my eyes the smoky gray look,
added some highlights to my cheeks, and the barest amounts of pink
lip-gloss. I didn’t need foundation or mascara.
    I wore a burgundy mini dress with a
sweetheart neckline, a tapered waist, and a slightly flared skirt.
The bell sleeves hung loose, and my back was completely bare down
to the very bottom. I felt exposed. Izzy forced me to buy a bra
that linked in front, but was backless and strapless. The cups were
sticky, and I personally thought that calling it a bra was an
insult to actual bras. Still, it gave me the merest sense of
coverage and I was thankful for any. Izzy tried to convince me to
buy a pair of strappy stilettos but I told her she was insane.
Instead, I wore a pair of gray flats. I didn’t need heels with my
height and I wasn’t sure I would be able to walk in them.
    Sucking in my breath, I stepped out of the
bathroom. Willow giggled on the floor pointing at Izzy, who did not
look happy. Considering her outfit, I had a difficult time
containing my own laughter.
    “Oh. My. God!” I was trying to be nice. I
really was, but I couldn’t contain my laughter. Izzy, the queen of
fashion or at least, gothic fashion was wearing an outfit that a
clown wouldn’t be caught dead wearing.
    Izzy’s mom had this irritating, but funny
way of adjusting Izzy’s clothing. She thought she was encouraging
her daughter’s unique sense of style, but really her creations were
ridiculous. Izzy, couldn’t bring herself to tell her mom that she
hated the adjustments, and instead wore them. Talk about
unconditional love.
    “Hm. Yeah, I am pretty sure that is the
worst one yet!” I shouted.
    Izzy had a pained expression on her face.
Her dress, which was originally beautiful, now looked like an 80’s
prom dress designed for a corpse. It combined gray lace, bright
pink tulle, and a tie die torso.
    “Please tell me, I can wear something of
yours!” Izzy begged.
    I immediately felt guilty when I saw the
tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn’t wait for my answer, but
took the dress off and threw it into the backpack she brought it
in.
    “Yeah, but you might want to spill some
paint on that dress. That way you have a future excuse not to wear
it.”
    “Paint would be an improvement.” Willow
said. She then jumped up and started combing through my closet. She
pulled out a pair of black shorts with suspenders attached, and a
cropped top sewed to the suspenders. It was a cute outfit, which
was the only reason why I had made an exception to my midriff
rule.
    Izzy grabbed it, shrugged, and climbed right
into the outfit. The suspenders rested on the outer edges of her
breasts and the shorts ended at mid thigh. The fit was entirely
different on her than it was on me. The