Free Secrets and Lies (Cassie Scot) by Christine Amsden

want anything to do with magic.” The including you was implicit.
    “That’s great,” Evan said. “I’ll just tell that to Jacob Travis next time I catch him following you. I’m sure he’ll understand and won’t bother you.”
    “What?” I could feel my heart beat faster. “When?”
    “Never mind.”
    “It was Thursday, wasn’t it? When we went to the movies? I thought someone was following me.”
    “You thought right.”
    I sank back in my seat, my anger fading as I tried to absorb the implications of his words. Of course, I had known there would be danger, on some level. I only wished I understood what they wanted from me.
    “Why?” I asked. “I’ve got no magic. What do they want ?”
    He didn’t answer for so long, I didn’t think he was going to answer. We were just pulling into the road leading to camp, beneath a painted sign proclaiming, “Welcome to Camp Ozark,” when he gave me the truth, or at least, part of it. “They want you, Cassie. They want access to your family, their secrets, and even to the magic that might have skipped over you, but will probably show up in your children.”
    My mouth formed the word, “Oh,” but I don’t think I said it. I wanted to deny the possibility, to argue with him, and to find some way to avoid needing his protection – either in truth or in his mind. But we had arrived, and two girls needed me.

5
    I HAVE FOND MEMORIES OF SUMMER camps. My parents sent me to one most summers from the age of eight to seventeen as a subtle escape from the daily magic lessons, which of necessity excluded me. Nowadays, summer camps aren’t just for camping, although I attended a few of those. I also went to cheerleading camp, softball camp, and had one bad run-in with band camp that I choose to forget whenever possible.
    Most years, summer camp was a peek into another world, and I don’t mean the one outside. I could shoot archery at home (and, in fact, I did). No, the truly interesting revelations came from the other campers, often city kids, who had never heard of Eagle Rock. They didn’t believe in magic, as a rule, or even think about it outside of fairy tales. It’s not that magic doesn’t exist in the big cities, it’s just easier to hide, and, perhaps, more necessary to do so.
    For the most part, I didn’t talk about home when I was at camp. I was never sure if stories about magic would amuse or frighten people, but either way I didn’t feel the need to run the risk of being an outsider. Besides, I was just after a bit of fun, and would not see any of these people again after a week or two.
    Then one summer, when I was fourteen, I ran into something I had never experienced before – an untrained sorcerer. Around Eagle Rock, anyone born with magical potential usually had relatives, even distant relatives, who were willing to at least impart enough basic knowledge to keep people from getting hurt. In other parts of the world – in fact in most parts of the world – this was not always true.
    Untrained sorcerers could be dangerous, both to themselves and to others, and were one of the strongest arguments in favor of magical unification. (Basically, the idea that there should be some kind of magical oversight committee.)
    Liza O’Malley was a case in point.
    She wasn’t assigned to my cabin, which was why it took me two days to notice her. By then, she had threatened and bullied every girl in her cabin into doing anything she asked, and she was quickly spreading her influence to engulf the rest of the camp.
    We were canoeing around the lake in pairs when I noticed a girl with terrible acne sitting alone on the lake shore, her eyes unfocused, staring off into nothing. “Doesn’t she have a partner?” I asked my partner, Kelly.
    Kelly followed my gaze and shook her head, a bit more vehemently than I would have expected.
    “We could let her sit in the middle of our canoe,” I said. “We can take turns.”
    “No,” Kelly said. “That’s not a good