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Josie has been feeling weird for a while now.
It was easier to ignore it when her time was divided between her new boyfriend and her sister, but now that Lizzie's left, Josie is feeling it more keenly.
What 'It' is? She doesn't know.
But it has been bothering her for quite a while now, burning on the backside of her thoughts, unconsciously brewing this strange sense of wrong inside her head, that has started to spread.
And considering how she suddenly doesn't know things about her own life, how she doesn't remember how important facts of her life came to be, Josie's willing to bet her own personal garden that this has to do with Malivore.
She just can't share it with anyone else.
Her sister wouldn't understand, she's been living normally, just like everyone else. The oddest one aside from herself was Landon, but he was also the one that came back from Triad after a seemingly impossible single-handed defeat of Malivore.
Lizzie still didn't trust that, Josie - albeit not as vocal or biting about it - isn't quite so sure either.
She's dating the boy, sure, and he's been fine so far, better than Penelope even, in some aspects.
Still, 'Fine' is not enough to share her suspicions with.
Therefore, Josie finds herself alone in her own bedroom, standing warily in front of a cabinet she hasn't opened in years.
She needed to read her old Diary.
Whoever was missing did a good job cleaning their tracks before disappearing, or maybe someone did it for them - Josie suspected her dad. She remembers the day they voted him out, and how she saw him entering the bedroom that now belongs to Alyssa Chang. It didn't, back then, Josie knows that.
The fact is, on her thirteenth birthday, Josie remembers getting a diary. It had a dark burgundy leather cover, with only a golden lettered 'Josette' on it's front. She treasured it dearly and kept using it until there were no longer any pages to write on. Josie remembers there was no card alongside it, but that she still had a guess on who gave it to her, and how that guess was one of the reasons why she loved it so much.
The fact that she can't remember who is the guess just spurrs Josie on, and gives her the strength to open the cabinet and undo the concealing spells that surrounded the small journal - with a sister like Lizzie, you could never be too careful.
Holding the diary again brought her a warm feeling of nostalgia, and Josie smiled softly. She used to write everything in this, it was her most trusted confidant, even more than Lizzie. Especially in light of... Something.
Her brows furrowed.
There was something she absolutely couldn't share with her sister, no matter what. Even without knowing what it was, the sheer dread that arose her - as if by some sort of muscle memory but for feelings - was telling enough.
Curious, and more than a bit off-put, Josie laid down and got started.
The first pages were innocuous enough, Josie thought. Laying on her bed and reading the thoughts of her 13-year-old self, Josie felt more than willing to recall a time where the world wasn't weekly monsters and lost memories.
Simpler times, she mused.
As entertaining as it was, and also a bit embarrassing, things got interesting once classes started again.
I think she's the love of my life.
Josie laughed softly, wondering if all pre-teens were that dramatic or if it was more of a personal thing.
I feel like I had a small crush on her for a while now, I mean, who wouldn't?
But I finally got to spend some time with her and now I think she's the love of my life.
Mr. Wilson partnered us together, and I was a bit cautious at first - Lizzie doesn't like her much, you see, it's one of the reasons I can't bring myself to talk about it with her - but the more we talked, the more I realized how amazing she is.
Like, she's smart and beautiful and strong! And I don't mean physically - she's that too, though, not that I caught her exercising or something - but there's just this feeling about her, as if she's more than meets the eye.
gleaming, twinkling
eyes like sinking ships on waters
so inviting, i almost jump in
Josie's smile falters the more she reads, but instead her eyes gain a determined glint. She doesn't even remember who she partnered with that year, and wasn't this such a glaringly obvious gap? She remembers the guy from the year before (Jake Moore) and the girl from the year after (Wendy Evans) but not the one from this specific year?
No, Malivore was definitely involved, Josie was sure of it.
She just had to know more, now, enough to decide what to do with information about a girl who pretty much doesn't exist anymore, but that impacted her enough to write about alongside lyrics from Taylor Swift songs.
I wonder what she thinks of me. I mean, we've technically known each other for some years now, but no matter how many times me and Lizzie tried to befriend her, she wouldn't let us in.
Not just us, of course, everyone else too. That, along with the way dad pays more attention to her than to us sometimes, made Lizzie very sour towards her - but just between us, I'm sure she'd love to be her friend if given the chance.
I would, too.
what must it be like
to grow up that beautiful?
Josie keeps reading, page after page, entry after entry, lyrics after lyrics, growing more absorbed by each and every one of them. Some things she can remember, others she can't - usually the ones connected with the mysterious girl that has yet to be named.
She was sitting alone at lunch again, I only wish I was brave enough to go and sit with her, but Lizzie would have kittens.
And I think she wouldn't have liked it, too. She and Lizzie always blow, whatever the situation. I can admit that Lizzie is usually the one who starts things, but neither back down once it gets going.
I feel awful, so I just keep quiet, but it hurts even more whenever any of them looks at me like I've just betrayed them.
so what am i defending now?
I met her at the library! I went to do some homework since Lizzie was having some friends over, and there she was, alone as usual.
But so was I, and it was always civil when just the two of us were together, sometimes even friendly.
So I sat beside her. It was kinda awkward at first, she seemed surprised, I think, but it shocked me how fast it became comfortable. Soon enough I was asking for help with my homework because I knew she had the same class last year, and then we were talking.
It was probably the most we've ever talked outside a classroom, if I'm being honest. And yeah, it was in a library, but we traded jokes and whispers and her laugh is so beautiful and sometimes she'd get too close when whispering something and I'd forget how to breathe.
it will leave you breathless
or with a nasty scar
We need to meet somewhere to start on our project, and she said it could be her bedroom, since she doesn't have a roommate. I'm so nervous. I wonder if I'm going to be sick? Maybe I should drink some herbal tea before going.
We don't even need to start it already, no one else did, so maybe she's just looking for excuses to spend time with me?
A girl can dream, but the thought only makes me more anxious.
and if i bleed
you'll be the last to know
I think my new favorite place at the school is her bedroom. It smelt like nature and fresh paint, and I'm sure if amortentia existed, that would be the scent I'd smell.
Despite being cold and having a bit of a bad girl reputation - which, okay, I love it - being in her bedroom was like discovering who she really was under her layers and layers of walls, and the fact that she wanted to share it with me made it even more special.
There were Harry Potter books on her bedside table, and, if I wasn't imagining things, she blushed once I asked about them! She said, and I quote, 'this girl I know talked a lot about it, so I got curious'
It's me. The girl is me. Can you believe it?? I mean, of course you can because only I can read this and I don't think I'll ever forget today. Like, ever.
you taught me a secret language
i can't speak with anyone else
Oh, if only Josie's younger self could see her now. It's actually jarring, to read so much about things and not remember any of it. To not even remember writing it. How many more people have felt like this? Like a piece of them was missing? How many memories did Malivore strip from people, without a care about repercussions, consequences?
And why this girl?
From the way her dad was involved, it seems premeditated, like it wasn't an accident, or else there'd have to be way more questions about her.
But what reason would anyone have to willingly be erased from everyone's memories?
If the diary was right, and she has no reason to think it isn't, the girl lived here for maybe just as long and Josie and Lizzie did, and that means this is her home. How much of Salvatore is filled with fingertips and trails of this girl? Just how much are they forgetting?
How much is Josie forgetting?
It's scary how much about me is also about her, now.
My favorite classes are the ones we share, my favorite place is still her bedroom, my favorite songs are the ones that remind me of her.
And now, she even managed to make magic better than it already is.
We were in her bedroom again when it happened. I saw what looked like a grimoire, got curious, and asked if I could have a look.
She indulged me, as she usually does these days, and seeing her smiling at me from the bed… It makes me comfortable in a way that few things do.
Still, I flipped through the grimoire, and it has so much magic! Pages and pages and pages of spells I've never seen, and probably wouldn't ever do, if it wasn't for her. I was itching to try some, and it goes to say how much more attuned to each other we are now, she noticed it instantly.
Or maybe I'm just that obvious, who knows.
The thing is, she asked if I wanted to learn one of the spells, and when I told her I didn't have magic, she said I could siphon from her.
I was more excited about learning the spell than siphoning, to be honest, since siphoning from the walls doesn't feel like much of anything, I didn't expect that siphoning from people would be much different.
Oh, that's right, isn't it? She and Lizzie couldn't siphon from other students when they were younger, since their dad was scared they wouldn't be able to control it, and were only allowed to do it after turning 15, and only with people that allowed it.
But it was. God, it was.
It felt alive in a way I didn't know magic could feel, it was as if lava was running through my veins, overwhelming me, almost seductive in nature.
I half expected it to start speaking to me and say, "this. this is how magic truly feels, this is how power truly feels."
It didn't. But she did. And when asked what spell I wanted to learn, well, if power is supposed to feel like fire, I decided I might as well run with it.
And now I have a new favorite spell, called Ignalusa.
so it's gonna be forever
or it's gonna go down in flames?
Josie gasped, the knowledge of how she learned that particular spell was shocking in it's own way, but more important than that… Magic doesn't feel like lava running through her veins.
Siphoning from the school feels artificial, yes, and siphoning from other other people does feel more alive, each type of supernatural being different in ther own singular way. But how she wrote it, such a feeling of burning and power… The closest thing Josie could compare it to is Dark Magic, but even that comes with a price.
The way it was described, like pure, raw power, Josie doesn't remember ever feeling it, or anything like it. Her body feels warm just thinking about it, and that alone feels like enough reason to look out for and find out who this mysterious girl is - and bring her home, immediately.
Someone put mistletoes on the frame of her door. It confused me as I was leaving, because it isn't even close to Christmas, but when she passed through the door and all her clothes turned a bright pink, I understood.
A prank.
God, the witches can be even more petty than the werewolves sometimes.
I siphoned the magic away from the branches and luckily it was enough to turn her clothes back to normal, but the way she was so unbothered by it bothered me in turn. Is she used to it?
I didn't get to ask, though, because she looked at the mistletoe, then at me, then she took my hand and kissed it
I'm still not sure if that actually happened, or if it was just a particularly detailed fever dream.
But when she smirked and told me "Thank you, Josette", I finally felt - alongside a silly need to ask her to call me Josette for the rest of my life - what Lizzie said she did with her latest crush.
An undeniable need to pull her close and kiss her.
we always walked a very thin line
The term is ending.
We finished the project a while ago, but are still meeting in her bedroom.
Lizzie is getting suspicious. She hasn't said anything, but I know her, and it's just a matter of time.
I wonder if I should do something, or if it's even worth it. Mr. Wilson never repeats partners, so I don't even know if I'll have an excuse to talk to her once the year it's over.
If I wasn't such a coward, maybe I wouldn't need one.
now i'm lying on the cold hard ground
Josie frowns. She's closing in on the end of the diary, and while very endearing in general, this last one was a bit too depressing. She wonders if it will end in heartbreak - the sinking feeling in her heart certainly seems to think so.
As she turns more pages, a single note comes out, and Josie decides to read the entry before the note.
It's her. I'm sure it's her. She was there in the library when I checked out books on magical plants, she was there in the garden when I helped with repotting and she was the one who smiled at me when I answered that Botany question way better than someone my age should.
I just don't know how she got such an old edition of Botanica in Originali, but it was her, and the note just confirms it.
and if my wishes came true
it would have been you
Josie felt like she was missing something. Sure, she knew Botanica in Originali, it was one of her favorite books, and also one of the oldest in both appearance and age. She always handles it carefully, afraid of damaging it, because it is certainly one of the oldest editions.
But that wasn't what confused Josie, no more than anything that came before, anyway. The problem was the note.
Hope you have a nice birthday :)
It was the most basic birthday note she could ever, well, not remember getting. Still, it didn't seem to have any hidden meaning, and yet... And yet, Josie finds herself staring at it, feeling like she is missing some crucial detail.
She most likely is.
Putting the note back, overthinking won't do her any good, she continues reading.
Me and Lizzie gave the tour to this new witch called Penelope, who Lizzie says is clearly flirting with me. I didn't really think so, but if I think about it, it could certainly be viewed that way.
More importantly, though, I've been thinking of confessing! We've become closer through this last year, and that present had to mean something, right? If nothing else, it will take a weight off my chest. And if she rejects me, well, who knows? Maybe Penelope really is flirting with me.
have you ever thought
just maybe, you belong with me?
I've decided. I'll do it. Since she wrote me a note, I'll write her one as well. It's totally not because I'm scared of saying it to her, face-to-face. Definitely not. Quid Pro Quo or whatever right?
writing letters addressed to the fire
I did something bad, terribly bad. Really awful. And now I can't fix it. Nor can I let anyone know, especially not her, or she'll hate me forever, and that is the one thing I can't bear to see happening.
i can't dare to dream about you anymore
Josie is, understandably, worried. The terrible feeling on the pit of her stomach has only grown for the last few minutes, and the fact that this last page was somewhat deformed, as if wet by tears, once upon a time, only made things worse - Josie is actually a bit afraid of reading the rest of it.
Lizzie accused me of being obsessed with her right after the fire, and I don't know what came over me, but I lied. Not just denied it, but lied. Told a story about how "I couldn't possibly be obsessed with someone who says such mean things about my sister".
But she didn't. She would never. They may not like each other, but I'm sure she would never do it.
Lizzie doesn't know her that well, though, and I'm sure she must hate her now.
And it's all my fault.
Oh god, it's all my fault, what do I do?
Josie's head is spinning, she feels as if she's close to an epiphany, so very close. A fire, a lost vacation, spread rumors.
It was all there, all the pieces.
Or, well, not all of them. As long as she doesn't remember the most important piece of all, it won't make sense.
The fact that it was the second-to-last entry of the diary and it doesn't even have lyrics to go with it didn't bode well for Josie's chances of clearance, but hope wasn't yet lost, or so she had wanted to think.
Because right there, on the last page;
Penelope and I started dating.
But it would've been fun
If you would've been the one
Wide-eyed, Josie can only stare. Whatever she was expecting, it wasn't that. A single sentence, and some barely scratched lyrics? That's not enough, not nearly enough. She needs more, she needs more information.
She needs to know who this girl is.
Who was she? What did she do? And why can't Josie remember her and why is she fucking crying?!
Josie suddenly gasped, the feeling of magic intake surprising her more than the actual image of her glowing hands holding the diary with enough strength to bend the relatively thick journal.
Magic. In the diary. Because of course.
As Josie hoped, it was, fortunately, a concealing spell. Unfortunately, it wasn't in any of the pages, hiding away more details, but rather on the inner back cover of the journal.
It should have still been nice, any new information is good information after all, but it only made Josie more confused and lost than she already was.
Because where before there had only been a white, slightly yellow space, there was now what appeared to be the same thing, scratched over again and again and again. Not a slight scratch, like the lyrics from the last page- leaving more than enough details to make out what was written.
No, those scratches were dark and deep, it was like her younger self spent hours furiously scratching over it, eager to hide anything that might give away whatever it was she wrote under it.
Except for one part in the middle, the only relatively clean piece of space.
It was there, written in red ink and terribly lonely, as if young Josie didn't have the heart to scratch it like she did all of the others.
H J