Read Funny Tragic Crazy Magic (Tragic Magic Book 1) for Free Online Page A

the center and darker blue
around the edge. A sunflower of yellow swallowed his pupil. His eyebrows were
full, light freckles covered the bridge of his nose and cheeks, and his hair
defied gravity, looking like a casual mess as it fell over his ears.
    I
looked away. “Thanks.”
    The
kitchen in my house was always a place of safety for me. Somehow Joe added to
the comfort of this room. To me.
    Then
he took it all away.
    “How
do you pay for things?” he asked.
    I
bit my lip, “Life insurance.”
    “How
come no one knows?”
    I
sighed. “The Grandmothers thought it would be best for me, as a fully accepted
Witch, to take care of myself. They put hide or confusion , or
maybe even a forget rune on my personal file. One of them, Giara, comes
and visits me every few months. She’s from Chicago.”
    “Why
don’t you just go live with your grandmothers then?” he asked.
    “They
aren’t my grandmothers. We’re not related. The Grandmothers are the leaders of
the Fellowship of Female Witches. There are four of them total, the strongest
two Witches from either branch of magic, Instincts and Runes. Giara is the
second in strength of the Runes.” I scratched my eyebrow. “I shouldn’t be
telling you this.”
    “Because
of the friction between the two genders,” he said. “Who leads the men?”
    “The
Grandfathers.” I answered. “I don’t know much about them, except that my dad
used to go to an annual golf tournament every May. He always said it was for
‘Networking,’ but my dad owned a Mexican Restaurant. What kind of networking
did he need to do?”
    “Your
dad could do magic?”
    “Yeah.
He was a Rune,” I said. “I don’t know anything else about how the male
Fellowship, or whatever it’s called, was about. There’s a strict ‘don’t spill
the beans to a girl policy.’ And my dad and I were never that close to begin
with.”
    It
always felt weird to me, not knowing anything about the men’s side of magic.
Whenever I used to ask my dad about it, he’d close his eyes, and start humming
some song I didn’t recognize. My dad and I had this weird relationship. Even
when I was little, he didn’t like being in the same room as me, or talking to
me for more than a few minutes. And he never talked to me about magic at all.
For a while, I thought he hated me. But sometimes he’d buy me random gifts and
have my mom give them to me, or he’d kiss the top of my head when we were in a
crowd of people.
    I
leaned against the kitchen counter and pulled myself up on the edge. It felt
good to talk about them, so maybe even Joe’s obnoxious round of questions still
ended up comforting me somehow.
    My
cereal was starting to go soggy, so I picked up my bowl and started eating
again.
    “Hey,”
I said when I remembered how to speak, “how did you know a rune?”
    “Three
runes, actually.” Joe said, and then he sat down on one of the dining chairs
facing toward me. “This is gonna sound weird.”
    “And
the rest of our conversations have been completely rube-like.” I said with my
mouth full of cereal.
    Joe
smiled and then looked away, “I’ve always been good at patterns. You know,
seeing patterns in things. Like those curtains,” he said pointing toward the
kitchen window, “they’re embroidered with three different color blue threads,
and light and dark silver. The darker blue is used forty percent of the time,
followed by the medium blue at twenty, the light blue at about fifteen. The two
silvers were used an equal amount to show light and shadow...”
    He
looked at me as if he was embarrassed. I could feel the heat from his eyes on
my face. I think I sat there with my mouth open. To me they were just white and
blue curtains.
    I
swallowed, “What does that have to do with the runes?”
    “There’s
a pattern there, in every rune. But the patterns… it’s like… They don’t
connect, in my brain.” Joe held his hands on either side of his face, and he
looked down at the ground as if he was in