Dragon Witch ✔️

6 - Witch Hunters

Mom said Dad and I looked like gender-swapped copies of each other, especially when we were angry. I guessed I could see the resemblance. We both had the freckled complexions of redheads, even though our hair was more brown than red. Our faces lit up like fire trucks when we were mad. And we were both intimidatingly tall--though six foot looked taller on me than it did on him.

But when it came down to intimidating people, I guessed I had him beat. According to Kyton, my sharp canines made me look like a vampire.

"That's the fifth interview I've had this morning, and they all ended when they heard I was a Hemlock." Dad shoved his phone in his pocket. "What were you saying?"

"How can we afford college?" I waved at the brochures. "I thought you didn't want me to have to get student loans, so I was going to work this year or something."

He nodded. "Your grandparents are paying. They'll have the final say on which school you attend, but they want you to pick out your favorites."

I glanced through the brochures. None of them were magic schools. Actually, they were pretty much the opposite. Half of them boasted that 0% of their student population were Otherworlders, and the other half went even further, claiming they employed rigorous testing methods to keep Otherworlders and witches out of their schools. Rothworth's Academy was the worst of the lot. The brochures didn't say it, but I'd heard most witch hunters graduated from there.

"Grandma and Grandpa picked these out?" I asked.

"No, your mom did." He seemed to notice my displeasure. "With your grades and test scores, you'll have no trouble getting into any of these schools."

"But the witch thing-"

"Most people have witch blood in them. If these schools kept out all genetic witches, they wouldn't have any students. I'm sure they only keep out practicing witches with familiars. You'll be fine."

"Right." I wished getting accepted into a school like Rothworth's was all I had to worry about. It would've been simpler that way. As it was, attending any of the schools in the brochures would make my parents happy, but it would make me miserable. I had to change their minds.

Convincing them to let me go to a magic school by next month was a fool's dream, but maybe they would be okay with a normal, relatively non-biased school. I could always have Grandma's magic lessons after college classes.

Dad took out his phone again and called someone, probably another interviewer. Faint hold music emanated from the speakers. He started pacing, and I turned back to the college brochures.

An uncomfortable thought occurred to me. I'd skipped a grade in middle school, so I was only seventeen. But my birthday was next month. As an eighteen-year-old, I would be a legal adult. My parents couldn't technically force me to do anything. My grandparents would probably help me with my money issues if my parents cut me off.

Of course, it wasn't that simple. My parents drove me crazy sometimes--basically whenever magic was involved--but I still loved them. They'd always been there for me, no matter whether I'd broken an arm falling out of a tree or won a solo in a choir concert. I didn't want to lose them.

Why couldn't they just see reason? They were trying to keep me safe from something that wasn't any more dangerous than driving a car on the highway. Mom might never understand that on her own, but maybe if I convinced Dad, he could make her lean my way.

"Are you still on hold?" I asked in a low voice.

Dad turned back to me and shook his head. "They just confirmed my name and hung up. What do you need?"