The Witches on BellaRow Street

5. Sis, You Look Suspicious.

I am my Ancestors; Strong yet fragile at the same time.
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"Well, I..."

The pressure is on Aunt BeeBee, and I can feel it radiating from her like steam rising off a pot about to boil over. She's cornered, standing between Miss Voule's insistent kindness and the sticky truth we're trying to avoid. She can either refuse and face a flood of questions we're not ready to answer, or she can lie and hope Miss Voule's show starts soon enough for us to sneak away unnoticed. My heart races as I watch her, practically holding my breath, waiting to see which path she'll choose.

"Well, I don't see why not," Aunt BeeBee finally says, forcing a tight smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "The more, the merrier." Her voice is smooth, but I can hear the faint tremor underneath, like a crack in glass that hasn't fully shattered yet.

Wait, what? Did she really just say that? "The more, the merrier?" I blink, stunned. Who is this woman, and what has she done with the Aunt BeeBee who always swore she hated unnecessary drama? Her sudden shift throws me off balance, but I catch the glint of determination in her eyes—whatever her plan is, she's committed now.

I know she doesn't mean it. Her left eye twitches—a telltale sign she's fighting to keep her cool. She swallows hard, her throat bobbing like she's forcing down a lump of nerves, and her smile is faker than a knockoff handbag you'd find on a street corner. But this is Aunt BeeBee. When the walls close in, she always finds a way out, like a cat landing on its feet. Her kind of magic isn't the flashy, sparkly kind—it's the quiet, determined kind that shines brightest when the stakes are high.

But Miss Voule isn't just anybody. Her sharp gaze is like a magnifying glass in the sun, and I swear she's reading us both like an open book. She doesn't miss a beat, and it's hard to forget the reason we're stalling—there's still a dead body waiting in the alley, and time feels like it's slipping away faster than sand through my fingers.

"Good," Miss Voule says, her laugh booming like a thunderclap in the narrow street. The sound echoes, almost daring us to falter. She studies us both, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if weighing our words against some unspoken truth. "You had me worried for a second." Her voice is playful, but her expression tells me she's still suspicious. My chest tightens as I realize Aunt BeeBee's magic might not be enough this time.

Aunt BeeBee joins in Miss Voule's laughter, though it sounds a bit forced, like a cracked bell trying to ring. "Oh, no. It's just... I know you've got so much going on," she says, her voice a little too chipper, like she's trying to sell the lie to herself as much as to Miss Voule.

"Mmmhmm," Miss Voule hums, her lips pursed in a knowing smile. The sound is rich with layers, like a secret that's just begging to come out. That single hum could mean a million things, and none of them feel good. But we act like we don't hear the suspicion in her tone, nodding politely and quickening our steps as if we're on a mission.

As we head back to the alley, Aunt BeeBee leads the way, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement. She breezes past the first alley without even a glance, waving it off with a distracted, "Not this one." When we approach the second, she slows, then shakes her head, muttering something about it being too dark. Each excuse feels thinner than the last, like a thread stretched to its breaking point. I watch her, nerves twisting in my gut, wondering how long we can keep this up before Miss Voule figures out we're stalling.

"It's not dark enough," Aunt BeeBee says, her hand fluttering dismissively as she brushes past yet another alley.

"Chileee, if we go any further, we'll end up in the Mississippi River," Miss Voule teases, her voice light but her eyes sharp, watching every move we make. The way her laughter echoes off the buildings makes me wonder if she's testing us, seeing how far we'll let this charade go.