Tempting Jocelyn

The sound of heels clicking against the cobblestones of my mum’s driveway filled the air as I made my way up to her house, my childhood home. I’m wearing my favourite colour, black, but not my favourite kind of attire – an off-shoulder dress, showcasing my fair skin, floor-length with a long slit from my leg to my thigh. My ginger red hair is styled and left to fall in graceful waves down my back, stud earrings are hooked to my earlobes, but my face is void of any makeup. Black heels decorated my feet, and a matching clutch purse dangled from my right hand. I looked older than my nineteen-year-old self, but mum expected me to be as elegant and well-behaved as possible and not embarrass her. My existence alone was an embarrassment to her. My mum, Stephanie Roswell, started her own cosmetics business at a young age and made it big even before she got married and had two daughters: my perfect older sister Caroline and then me, the annoying brat. And out of her two daughters, I’m the unfortunate one who didn’t inherit her witch nature. Yes, my mum was a witch. In fact, a powerful one, but she married a human, my dad, and I got his human traits, making me a non-witch. They’re divorced, but my mum still decided to retain her last name as Roswell. On the other hand, Caroline was a full-fledged witch who my mum was expressly proud of and showed off anytime she could while I was left behind in the shadows. And no, I’m not going to say, it’s okay or anything like that, because it was a terrible way to grow up. Being a human born of a witch wasn’t precisely something to be proud of. My mum, her friends, my sister, her friends also shun me like they do to other lesser humans, and that was why the moment I found a bit of freedom from them, I latched onto it like a bee to a flower. I enrolled in a college far from home, so to be nowhere near them. My mum didn’t exactly let me leave the city, but I was 62 miles far from home, so that was good enough for me. To be frank, she isn’t exactly ready to let go of me just yet, even though getting rid of me was something that would make her extremely satisfied. She still loved to dictate to me everything I did, which was irritating, to say the least. That is the reason why I am here now, attending a banquet she was hosting for witches in the Atlanta city coven. Honestly, I would rather be anywhere else than here and not dolled up like some working adult, but you don’t say no to my mum. She literally scared me. One time, when I was little and refused to eat my vegetables, she hexed one of my dolls, and I watched it turn to dust in front of me. I wolfed my whole plate down seconds before she got to my other toys. A sweet mother she was. Finally making it to the entrance of the lioness’ den, I took in a deep breath before reaching for the door’s handle, twisting it open to reveal the disgustingly spacious and expertly decorated living room. Presently, it was crowded with snobby, snooty rich witches of Atlanta in their fancy dresses, suits, and overly expensive jewellery dangling on their ears, necks, wrists, and everywhere else they’d like to show off their wealth. Wine glasses were being served on trays by waiters in uniform, and I reached for a drink as one walked by me without sparing me a glance like everyone else here was. I felt invisible in their midst and lost, even though my attire and accessories were just as expensive as everyone else’s here. It didn’t matter if you encountered a witch as rich as Croesus or extremely destitute; they always prided themselves to be above and better humans. Just because they knew a bit of magic and could float things through the air, change the weather, help speed up someone’s healing process, possibly communicate with the dead, and other cool stuff, they think humans are useless inferior creatures. Okay, I get why, but they’re usually cooler in movies. Growing up among a group of people who never accepted you, picked you out as the odd one, and were stigmatized made me realize how much I needed to cut ties with all of them and build my life from scratch around new faces. If only my mum would let me. Honestly, I can’t figure out why she still wanted me around when I was nothing more than a disgrace, a taint on her perfect name. Oh, wait, maybe it’s because she relishes the thought of having control over me: the only rebellious child she has. I noticed I was suddenly getting a few attentions from some of the guests now as I stepped in further, but they only proceeded to stare down at me, sensing I was human, an outsider intruding in their world. It felt odd strolling here, where I was born and raised under my mum’s strict rules. I have hardly visited now since the two years I’ve been in college, even though we’re still in the same city. While everyone returned home for the holidays, I either visited my dad in London or stayed back in my apartment, which I rented with a roommate, Chelsea. She’s awesome. My gaze diverted to the corner where a woman played the Cello in perfect harmony with another man running his expert fingers on the grand piano. Witches were on the dance floor moving slowly to the sound, and I was entranced for a few seconds with my drink still in hand, recalling when I was little and used to practice dancing with my dad on those same floors. “Jocelyn, glad you could make it,” and like that, a special breed of witch broke the spell with her dark magic, forcing me out of my trance, so I’m looking at her devilish face instead: my sister. Caroline Roswell was a beautiful lady with rich honey-blond hair stopping at shoulder length and icy blue eyes, both which she got from mum, while I took most of my qualities from dad. The green cocktail dress she had on presently was an eyecatcher, and the lacy neckline and sleeves complimented her fair skin tone. A doll she was, sweet and pretty on the outside, but an empty dark shell inside. For some reason, I was the only one who saw it, the real her, vicious and conniving while everyone else doted on her. Couldn’t they see the devil lurking behind those bright blue eyes? “Stop staring at me like that.” The devil spoke once more, staring down at me. Usually, she towered over me by an inch, but her longer heels have added an extra inch tonight. And then there was her smooth perfect skin. While I was battling acne in the early stage of my teenage years, Miss Perfect here had always had clearer skin, and I couldn’t count the number of beauty care companies vying for her. She is even the face of my mum’s company now. “You still haven’t changed, Jocelyn.” She commented when I didn’t reply and only tilted my head to the side to keep on staring at her like the villain she was. “You know mum hates that rebellious attitude of yours.” It’s obvious Caroline, and I don’t get along well, and that’s not just because I grew up under her shadow, watching her get the spotlight while I’m kicked to the back. No, it was way beyond that. She despised me for some reason that I couldn’t fantom, and I reciprocated the feelings. Well, maybe it’s because I lit her favourite dresses on fire when she hid one of my toys, tore up her assignment when she called me ‘weird,’ and rigged her birthday cake to explode once when she ratted me out to mum when I skipped school. In my defence, I was an angry kid back then, young, foolish, and vengeful. I also did many other worse things, but let’s not reminisce on the past. She’s, of course, closer to mum, while I’m more of a daddy’s girl, which was understandable; mum was a witch, and so was Caroline, and I was human just like my dad. Even after he and mum divorced, with mum getting custody, we still got along. Presently, dad’s back in London, where his mum is from. His father is from Atlanta, though, where he grew up and, unluckily, met my mum. “She hates everything about me,” I muttered, taking a sip of my drink while Caroline came to stand beside me, but she heard me. “True.” She agreed smugly with a light shrug, and I resisted the urge to pour the contents of my drink on her face. I breathed in to cool my rising temper, “Speaking of mum,” I forced out a smile and turned to her, “Can you just point me in her direction so I can see her, force out some polite greetings and words and get the hell out of this nauseating party.” She rolled her eyes at my words, “Last I saw her, she was with Grams.” Ah, my sweet grandma, one of the few and maybe the only witch who doesn’t stare at me like I just walked out of a dumpster. Sometimes, I wonder how such a sweet woman gave birth to a cold creature like my mum. “Come, I’ll take you to her.” “That reminds me, how is Cody? Oh, is he here?” I asked as she led me across the room, smiling and muttering a greeting to any witch she passed by while I either lifted an eyebrow behind her at their outfits or shook my head, just to add a bit of insecurity in their minds even though they looked just fine. Boy, did I get murderous glares in return. “Although he’s none of your business, he is fine and already here. You’re the only person who arrives at a party an hour and thirty minutes after it began.” I couldn’t help the smile from breaking out on my lips, hearing the jealousy and irritation in her tone. “Oh, Caroline Roswell, is that jealousy I hear?” She ignored me, but I knew my words irked her. Cody Brockwell was her fiancé, a nice guy who I immediately became friends with the minute Carol introduced us at one of the family dinners mum forced me to attend. At first, I thought anyone who would get engaged with someone like my sister would be just as vicious, but I was surprised to find him charming and likable. Much to Carol’s displeasure, we became too close to her liking. He had visited me a couple of times at college, always bearing gifts, and we hung out every now and then. It was always fun when Carol called me after to plunder me with questions about his visits. “Hey, Caroline!” Two ladies skittered over, flashing their teeth at us in a smile; well, my sister, not me. “Miranda, Tanya! You both look lovely.” Carol gasped, hugging them both but bending down a little more for Tanya, who was a little too short. I could almost see the top of her head. “Oh, stop it. We’re not as gorgeous as you.” The taller of the two giggled, and I almost barfed from all the fake pleasantries. Who cared who was more gorgeous here? I just wanted to see mum, so I could get the hell out of here as fast as possible. I watch them giggle some more, fawning over each other while ignoring invisible ol’ little me. Not that I care, but they seemed to be going on and on and wouldn’t stop anytime soon, so I decided to join in the fun by giggling along, only mine sounded a bit louder and longer. It got their attention, and they all went silent, blinking at me, puzzled. Soon, the two girls’ smiles turned into a scowl, sensing who I was. Somehow, witches could feel when someone wasn’t their kind. “I’m glad you girls are having a good time, but Carol here, “I hugged my sister’s arm tight so she wouldn’t be able to snatch it away even as she subtly tried to, “was about to take me to go meet someone, so….” Tanya turned to face my sister, ignoring me, “Caroline, what is someone like her doing here?” She whispered the question but not subtle enough ’cause I still heard. I had the most tremendous urge to bite her head off for her question, but that would be bad manners, according to mum. “Tanya, Miranda, this is my sister, Jocelyn.” She wasn’t all that enthusiastic about introducing me as being related to her, and even her fake smile couldn’t hide that. Usually, at this point, normal people shake hands and exchange pleasantries, but not us. “Oh, she’s the dormant witch,” Miranda commented, eyeing me curiously. “More like a human trying to act like she belongs with us.” Tanya scoffs, still ignoring my presence and talking like I wasn’t here. This was why I hated witches. They act like they’re so much better than everyone else, and that attitude always infuriated me. Letting out a dramatic sigh, I walked up to the short stack and patted her hair, taking her off guard. Ignoring Carol’s warning glare, I smiled at the little bundle of sunshine, “Not everyone wants to be like you, Tinkerbell.” The laughter in her eyes died in a split second, and everyone’s eyes widened suddenly. Geez, why were they all staring at me like I did something worse? Can’t they take a joke? Tanya’s mouth kept closing and opening like a fish out of water, looking shocked, as if no one had ever talked to her in such a way. I think I rendered her speechless with Miranda also, and it felt so good to insult a witch like that. “You...you human!” Tanya finally blurted out, and she seemed like she was about to throw her drink at me. I faked a gasp, grabbing my chest, “How insulting.” I feigned hurt. I could still feel Carol’s glare, but I ignored her and smiled once more, “Come on, Carol. Mum must be waiting.” I dragged her along as I strolled away, self-satisfied. “Excuse her, Tanya. She drank a bit too much.” I heard Carol apologize quickly behind us. A lovely company those two were.