I felt less weird after a couple of minutes, and soon I felt oddly exhilarated, practically running in a circle, holding hands under the moon. Bree looked so happy and alive that I couldn't help smiling at her.

A while later—it could have been two minutes or a half hour—I noticed I was starting to feel dizzy and strange. I'm one of those people who can never go on merry-go-rounds, roller coasters that do inversions, or anything that goes around in circles. It's an inner-ear thing, but the bottom line is I throw up. So I was starting to feel kind of iffy but didn't feel quite like I could stop.

Just as I was wondering what we would be banishing Cal said, "Raven? What would you get rid of if you could? What do you banish?"

Raven smiled, and she looked almost pretty for a moment, like a regular girl. "I banish small minds!" she called gleefully.

"Jenna?" Cal asked as we moved in our circle.

"I banish hatred," Jenna said after a pause.

She glanced at Matt. "I banish jealousy," he said.

Holding tightly to Cal and Bree's hands, I raced in a circle around the fire, someplace between running and dancing, simultaneously pushed and pulled. I began to feel like a sliver of soap at the bottom of a bathtub whirlpool, going around and around, out of control. But I wasn't getting sucked toward the drain. Instead I was rising up through the ribbed circle or water, rising to the top, help in place by centrifugal force. I felt light-headed and weirdly happy.

"I banish anger," Robbie called out.

"I banish, like, school," Todd said.

What an idiot, I thought.

"I banish plaid golf pants." said Alessandra, and Suzanne giggled.

"I banish fat-free hot dogs," Suzanne contributed. I felt Cal's hand tighten a bit around mine.

To my surprise, Sharon went next with, "I banish stupidity."

"I banish my stepmother!" Ethan yelled, laughing.

"I banish powerlessness," cried Beth.

Next to me Bree shouted, "I banish fear."

Was it my turn? I thought dizzily.

Cal squeezed my hand hard. What was I afraid of? Right then, I couldn't remember any of my fears. I mean, I'm afraid of all kinds of things: failing tests, speaking in public, my parents dying, getting my period at school when I'm wearing white, but I couldn't think of how to phrase those fears to for in with out banishment circle.

"Um," I said.

"Come on!" Raven cried, her voice tearing away, lost in the whirling circle.

"Come on," said Bree, her dark eyes on me.

"Come on," Cal whispered, as if he were enticing me in to a private space alone with him alone.

"I banish limitations!" I blurted out, unsure where the words had sprung from or why they felt right.

Then it happened. As if obeying a director's cue, we threw out hands apart from one another, up in the air, and stopped where we stood. In the nest instant I felt a piercing pain in my chest, as if my skin literally ripped open. I gasped, clutched my chest, and stumbled.

"What's with her?" I heard Raven say as I sank to my knees, pressing hard on the center of my chest. I felt dizzy, sick, and embarrassed.

"To much brew," Todd suggested.

Bree's hand touched my shoulder. I sucked in breath and rose unsteadily to my feet. I was sweating and clammy, breathing hard, and felt like I was about to faint.

"Are you okay? What's the matter?" Bree out her arm around me and shielded me with her body. Thankfully I leaned on her. A cloudy mist swam before my eyes, turning everything around me into a heat mirage. I blinked and swallowed, wanting childishly to cry. With each breath I took, the pain in my chest was lessening. I became aware that the members of the circle were gathered around me. I felt their gazes on me.

"I'm okay," I said, my voice low and raspy. Heat came off Bree's tall, thin body in waves, and dark hair was stuck to her forehead. My own hair hung around me in long, limp strands. Although I was sweating, I felt cold, chilled to the bone.

"Maybe I'm coming down with something," I said, trying to speak more strongly.

"Like witchitosis," Suzanne said sarcastically, her tanned face looking plastic in the moonlight.

I stood up straighter and realized the pain was almost gone. "I don't know what that was—cramp or something?" I broke away from Bree and tried a shaky step. And that was when I noticed something was wrong with my eyes.

I blinked several times and looked up at the sky. Everything was brighter, as if the moon had blown into fullness, but it was still just a sharp-edged crescent, a cream-colored sickle in the sky. I glanced at the woods and felt drawn into them, as if into a 3-D photograph. I saw every pine needle, every acorn, and even fallen twig in sharp relief. I closed my eyes and realized I could hear each separate sound of the night: insects, animals, birds, my friends' breathing, the delicate swoosh of my blood moving though my veins. The drone of crickets splintered into a thousand pieces—the music of a thousand separate beings.

I blinked again and looked at the faces around me, dim but utterly distinct in the firelight. Robbie and Bree wore expressions of concern, but it was Cal's face that held my eyes. Cal was gazing at me intently, his golden eyes seeming to strip though my skin to the bones underneath.

Abruptly I sat down on the ground. The earth was slightly damp and covered with a thin layer of decaying leaves. The crunching sound was incredibly loud in my ears as I tucked my legs beneath me. Instantly I felt better, as if the ground itself were absorbing my shaky feelings. I looked deeply into the fire, and the timeless, eternal dance of colors I saw there was so beautiful, I wanted to cry.

Cal's deep voice floated toward me as clearly as a whisper in a tunnel, as if his words were meant for me alone, and they found me unerringly even as the group dissolved into talking.

He said the words under his breath, his gaze fixed on my face. "I banish loneliness."

I saw something last night—a flash of power from an unexpected source. I can't jump to conclusions—I've been looking and waiting and watching for too long to make a mistake. But in my gut I feel she's here. She's here, and she has power. I need to get close to her.

On Sunday morning I woke up feeling like head was packed with wet sand. Mary K. stuck her head in my door.

"Better get up. Church."

My mom brushed past her into my room. "Get up, get up, you lazy pup," she said. She threw open my curtains, flooding my room with bright autumn sunlight that pierced my eye-balls and stung the back of my head.

"Ugh," I moaned, covering my face.

"Come on, we'll be late," said my mom. "Do you want waffles?"

I thought for a minute. "Sure."

"I'll put them in the toaster for you."

I sat up in bed, wondering if this was what a hangover felt like. It all came back to me, everything that had happened last night, and I felt a rush of excitement. Wicca. It had been strange and amazing. True, today I felt physically awful, foggy headed and sore, but still, last night had been one of the most exciting times of my whole life. And Cal. He was…incredible. Unusual.

I thought back to the moment when he looked at me so intensely. I thought at the time he'd been talking to me alone, but I later realized he wasn't. Robbie has heard him banish loneliness, and Bree had, too. On the way home Bree had wondered aloud how a guy like Cal could possibly be lonely.

I swung my feet over to the chilly floor. It was really autumn, finally. My favorite time of year. The air is crisp; the leaves change color; the heat and exhaustion of summer are over. It's cozier.