Read Witch Ball for Free Online

sister." He looked uncomfortable. The tea cup seemed the wrong fit for his hands. In Mississippi, and in most of the states around here, we drink iced sweet tea. It's called "the table wine of the south." Somehow, drinking hot tea, especially in summer, is as strange as drinking the muddy water straight out of the Tombigbee.
    "I came to tell Aunt Fleur about my date last night."
    "Date? Aren't you only six years old?" This was a game Grandpa Hyrum and I had played forever. He pretended to forget my name, or my age, or even who I was.
    " Ooooh, Gramps, I'm going into my junior year at Heritage soon. It won't be long before I learn to drive."
    "I guess I better get off the road then. Dangerous to have a six-year-old driving around..." We all laughed.
    "So, Miss Gertrude, what about this date?  Who was the boy? Will I have to go over to his house and set him straight about a few things?"
    "No. He's a nice boy."  No reason to elaborate on the details about how my reputation was very safe.
    "Yes," said Fleur, "he has a striking coloring, dark skin and tight curls with bright sparks. You don't see that everyday."
    "Aunt Fleur gave me a magic spell to make him like me, but I don't think it worked."
    She shook her head at me and waved her hand a bit. A little crease formed between her painted eyebrows. I couldn't understand what she was trying to tell me. But, too late, I had already said the wrong thing.
    His face reddened. "You see, Flo, this is exactly what I'm talkin' about! You can't go 'round doing all this crazy stuff. You knew that when you came back to town."
    "Don't worry, Granpa, it was nothing." After all my years of living with feuding parents, I play the role of peacemaker easily.
    He softened slightly. The flush faded from his face as he turned to me. "What's this boy's name?"
    "Eric. Eric Alexander."
    Grandpa took a gulp from his teacup. "Alexander? Is his mother Ruby?" Granpa is my mother's father. She is so much like him. They both ask questions that seem innocent enough, but I can always sense that there is something beneath the surface. They don't ask what they really want to know.
    "I don't know his mother's name. She died years ago. Why? Did you know her?" That is a stupid question. Everyone knows everyone in this town. They know who your people are, all your kin from way back. They probably know how much you paid for your house and how often married people have sex.
    "I knew some of her family."
    "That's funny. Eric said she was adopted. Even he didn't know much about her family."
    "I mean, I guess I knew somethin' about her. Your mother dated Hunter a long time ago. He was her first love, right before she married your father."
    "How strange that she didn't tell me that!" I suppose there are still some secrets in this town. Well, secrets from me, anyway. This line of questioning was serving a good purpose. Not only was it giving me an insight about my mother when she was a girl, something I have trouble imagining, but it took some of the pressure off my aunt. I got the feeling that he had been giving her a hard time before I got there.
    "Oh, Gramps, you must tell me. My mother and Eric's father? WOW! This is interesting."
    He stared into his cup as if he could read the tea leaves. "There ain't much to tell. She'd been pining around like a lost pup. They broke up or somethin'. I came home from work an' axed your gramma how she was. She said, 'Alright.  She just came back from the drug store. She's up in her room. She took a bowl of soup with her.'" He stopped talking. Grandpa is a funny guy, always making jokes, but his face dropped slightly. Suddenly, he looked ancient.
    I thought he was finished, but he began talking again. "I went upstairs and knocked on her door. There she was, all red-faced and puffy. Sure ' nuff, she was sittin' in the bed spoonin' that soup into her mouth. I got closer and saw little colored things floatin' in the broth. That girl had dumped all sorts of pills into the