Third Generation Witch: Applications

By Kristen S. Walker

A teen girl fears her family’s reputation will label her for life. Her mother wants her to follow in her footsteps and learn witchcraft. Can she become a witch on her own terms?

Brie knows two things about the witches in her family. Her grandmother almost destroyed their hometown with magic. Her mother saved it. But the upheaval from their fight has caused problems for twenty years. Now witchcraft is subjected to strict laws and everyone knows the McAddams family is to blame.

When Brie is old enough to study witchcraft under the new laws, her mother, Rosa, assumes that she’ll attend the school where she teaches. But everyone would put Brie under a microscope to see if she’ll turn out to be a hero like her mother or a villain like her grandmother. She wants to hide in anonymity.

Then her second mother suggests that she try a different school—one where people won’t know her family name. Brie would have to be accepted under her own merit. The MATs—Magical Aptitude Tests—will score her ability to learn magic. But if she succeeds, Brie might find a more welcoming home at Santa Cruz Witch Academy.

She just has to pass the entrance exams.

Third Generation Witch is a prequel to the upper YA urban fantasy academy trilogy, Santa Cruz Witch Academy. The series takes place twenty years after the Fae of Calaveras trilogy, but does not require prior reading. If you like teen witches, magical schools, and queer families, you’ll enjoy Kristen S. Walker’s story about the struggle to be accepted.

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Rated PG-13 for mild profanity and sexual references.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kristen S. Walker
• Release date: Jul 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005962791

Kristen S. Walker

Fantasy author Kristen S. Walker dreams of being a pirate mermaid who can talk to sharks, but she settles for writing stories for teens and adults. She's proudly bisexual, Wiccan, a liberal feminist, and lives in northern California with her family and two rescued pets. To find out more about her stories, please visit kristenwalker.net.

Book preview

1

Ihate flying.

Since I lived out in the middle of nowhere, I had to leave almost an hour before first bell to reach Sequoia High School. We never knew when the winding mountain roads would wash out or be reduced to one lane for construction. And since I’d rather be early than late, I tried to give myself extra time. So before sunrise, I bundled up in my paint-stained sweatshirt with the swim team logo, grabbed my messenger bag with my organized school supplies, and bounded out the door.

Then I stopped when I saw what was waiting outside.

A broom hovered in the air a few feet above my driveway. The handle was a tree branch, the knobby texture worn smooth from decades of use. One end had a bundle of smaller twigs tied together with hemp twine, but they bristled and stuck out at odd angles. Perched on the front was a bearded dragon, blinking slowly.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Getting upset would only waste precious time.

The door swung open behind me, making me jump forward so it wouldn’t hit me in the back. Oh, good, you’re ready, Mama Rosa said, stepping around me with a smile. A short, chubby woman with dark, messy hair, she looked like any middle-aged human mother except for the smell of magical herbs that clung to her.

She draped a cape over her shoulders with a dramatic flourish and walked down to the waiting broom. I have some time if you want me to drop you off at your school.

I looked around uncomfortably, noticing that my other mom’s car was already gone. I—I thought Mama Ashleigh was driving me today. Since she worked at the same high school as a counselor, it was easy for us to carpool.

Mama Rosa pointed at the empty parking spot like I hadn’t seen it. Sorry, sweetie, she was called in early for a meeting. But I’m ready to take you now.

I swallowed hard. Um, what about your car? So I could get in a little driving practice? I preferred to practice driving with Mama Ashleigh, because she was better at staying calm, but I needed to log more hours behind the wheel.

Mama Rosa glanced at her watch. I’m not sure that I’d have time to drive you to your school and still make it to my first class on time. You know how much faster it is to fly, Bridget.

That was my last excuse to ask nicely. Everything after this point would turn into a fight, especially since she’d called me Bridget. I was tired of reminding her that I was going by Brie now. To defuse the situation, I turned and started walking toward the road. I’ll just catch the bus.

Mama Rosa hopped onto the broom and glided beside me. Her bearded dragon familiar, Kitten, climbed up her cape onto her shoulder. What’s wrong with me flying you there? she asked, her tone growing more annoyed. You need flight practice just as much as you do driving. It’s faster, safer, and we could probably grab coffee on the way if you would just stop arguing and—

I said I’ll take the bus! I snapped, whirling around to glare at her. With my arms folded over my chest, I knew that I looked and sounded like a whiny child, but that was how she made me react. Just let me go, and then you won’t have to worry about being late at all.

Mama Rosa put her hand out to touch my arm, but I yanked away from her. Her eyes clouded with the pain.

Tell me what’s wrong, she said in a flat voice. Now, Bridget Rosemary.

It was bad when she started adding the middle name. I looked at the ground, scuffing the dirt driveway with my raggedy sneakers. I don’t want to fly with you.

What did I do to make you mad at me this time?

I couldn’t bring myself to meet her eyes. There was too much that I couldn’t tell her. The way the other kids judged me at school for my family’s reputation. The way that magic scared me, especially flying. The fact that I didn’t want to be a witch like her and Granny.

Instead, I spat out, You don’t understand me at all.

Mama Rosa folded her arms and cocked her head back at me in a mockery of my defiant position. I understand more than you realize. Believe me, I know all about being pissed at your mom. But we’ll never get anywhere if you don’t talk to me. We’re supposed to be better than this.

I don’t have time. I turned and walked faster down the road. The bus is coming.

She sighed loudly, and for a moment, I was afraid she was going to chase after me again. Her broom flew faster than I could walk. If she held me up much longer, I would be forced to ride with her just so I didn’t miss school.

But then I heard a swish as she took off. I glanced up and saw her disappearing over the tops of the giant sequoias, her cape wrapped tightly around her to keep off the wind chill.

I let out a sigh of relief and picked up the pace. The only bus stop was more than a mile down the highway, and if I missed the bus, it was half an hour before the next one came along.

I made it to the bus stop just moments before the public bus came lumbering around the corner. Most of the benches were empty this far up the mountain, but I still chose my seat carefully. Not too close to the front where all the chatty people sat, not too close to the back where the cool kids would go later. In the middle, right behind the back door, up against the window. There was no one within three seats of me, but just to be careful, I pulled out my sketch book and balanced it on my lap to look busy.

To be prepared, I should probably be reviewing my history notes one last time for the big test. But I’d spent hours going over it the day before, and after the fight with my mom, I needed something to distract myself. Time for some art therapy.

Without thinking, my hand closed around my thickest charcoal pencil. I sketched out heavy, dark lines in the shape of trees. Their branches wove together in a solid canopy. Underneath, I added a faint path, with the trees looming above it.

I lost myself in the work, barely noticing as the bus continued to drive. The winding road didn’t make me nauseous because I was used to every curve and switchback. Every so often, the bus stopped and more people got on. But if I kept my head down and didn’t make eye contact, nobody tried to talk to me.

Until one tall boy got on halfway through the ride and flopped into the empty seat beside me. Didn’t expect to see you on the bus today, Brie. He leaned over and looked at my claustrophobic sketch. Whoa, that’s intense. Bad morning?

I lifted my head up and gasped for air like I was surfacing above water. In my concentration, I hadn’t realized that we’d already reached Damian’s stop. That’s an understatement, I said, rubbing my charcoal-smudged hands on my jeans. Mama Ash was supposed to drive me this morning, but I guess she got called in for an early meeting.

Damian pretended to toss his hair back over his shoulder, but his short curls barely moved. I bet I know what that’s about. He glanced around the nearby seats, then leaned closer and stage-whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, Another girl in our grade got pregnant. Guess who.

I sighed. I didn’t care about gossip, but Damian prided himself on knowing all the sordid details of our high school, so he wouldn’t give it up until I played along. Brittany B?

Brittany B is a total slut, but she’s smart enough to use protection even if she is blowing half the football team.

I grimaced at the mental image. Then I don’t know.

He smiled triumphantly. Sami G.

My heart sank, but I tried to keep it from showing on my face. I thought she was gay.

Damian shrugged. She’s been to GSA a few times, but she could be bi or pan. We don’t make everyone label themselves when they join. He elbowed me in the ribs. Which you would know if you ever bothered to show up.

I flipped to another page in my sketchbook, switched to a ball-point pen, and started doodling random shapes. The repetitive patterns helped calm me down. I told you, I don’t want to get labeled by the whole school. Between you and my moms, I have plenty of gay support.

But if you never come out at school, none of the girls will ever notice you. Damian threw his arm over my shoulders. Just think, if Sami G knew you were available, she might not have been so desperate that she had to get knocked up by some guy.

My face turned hot. Sami’s not even my type. I don’t want to date any random queer girl.

No, your type is straight, hot bitches, which is why you’ve never been kissed. He snapped his fingers together. You’re like Drew Barrymore!

I groaned. Damian watched way too many rom-coms and Hallmark movies. Scrambling to