BooksBarbecue
Back Spells for Lost Things
Chapters (42)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Prologue
  5. – 1 – Willow
  6. – 2 – Mason
  7. – 3 – Willow
  8. – 4 – Mason
  9. – 5 – Willow
  10. – 6 – Mason
  11. – 7 – Willow
  12. – 8 – Mason
  13. – 9 – Willow
  14. – 10 – Mason
  15. – 11 – Willow
  16. – 12 – Mason
  17. – 13 – Willow
  18. – 14 – Mason
  19. – 15 – Willow
  20. – 16 – Mason
  21. – 17 – Willow
  22. – 18 – Mason
  23. – 19 – Willow
  24. – 20 – Mason
  25. – 21 – Willow
  26. – 22 – Mason
  27. – 23 – Willow
  28. – 24 – Mason
  29. – 25 – Willow
  30. – 26 – Mason
  31. – 27 – Willow
  32. – 28 – Mason
  33. – 29 – Willow
  34. – 30 – Mason
  35. – 31 – Willow
  36. – 32 – Mason
  37. – 33 – Willow
  38. – 34 – Mason
  39. Acknowledgments
  40. More from the Author
  41. About the Author
  42. ALSO BY JENNA EVANS WELCH

I keep waiting for someone to stop me, but no one even gives me a second glance. Salem is dark and uninterested, and I manage to board the train without any issues. Once I get to Boston, the transfers are confusing and nerve-racking, and at one point I nearly get on a train going an entirely different direction. I think I might relax once I’m on the long train ride, but I’m so anxious that all I can do is watch the scenery rush by me. I’d planned to buy food, but my train tickets cost more than the website said they would, and I need all of the rest of the money for my cab. I sit with a growling stomach, my eyes wide open, trying my hardest not think about what must be going on back in Salem.

Will Willow think that I was lying when I told her that last night felt like a beginning? I meant it, but that was before I knew my life was about to take such a giant turn. Who will realize I’m gone first? Zoe and Audrey? Emma, when she shows up with my coffee? What will Simon think? I’ve never worried about what will happen when someone realizes I’m missing—at the group home it meant they had to fill out paperwork. But here with the Morgans, it’s different. The girls had called me their brother. What were they going to do when I wasn’t in my bed?

It’s probably the sleep deprivation, but the closer we get to Newark, the more tangled my thoughts become. My emotions get dragged into it too, and soon I’m an absolute ball of stress and nerves. My chest is tight, and I can barely form a coherent thought.

They’ll know I had to do it, won’t they?

By the time my train pulls into Newark, I’ve been awake for twenty-nine hours, but it feels like twenty thousand. I feel fuzzy and hyperalert at the same time. The woman seated across from me is drinking coffee and eating a bagel, both of which I would give my left arm for right now, and my eyes feel red and scratchy, my energy jangly, but I’m here.

I’m here.

I stand before the train fully stops and hurry to the bathroom to splash some water on my face and look in the mirror. My eyes are bloodshot, but they’re bright too.

I’m about to see my mom. And that’s worth every intense feeling racing through my chest right now.