A Kind of Spark: Chapters 15–21

What did any of the so-called witches really look like?

I wash my hands and relish the cold sensation of the water against my warm skin.

They all part and Emily is revealed, smiling in a frightening way. Malevolent.

Audrey looks mortified, and everyone else seems both curious and uncomfortable.

“How could you?” I hear myself rasp.

I’m dimly aware of Emily shrieking beneath me as my fists flail and come raining down upon her.

“She just attacked me,” Emily blubbers.

“And as I see no real remorse in her manner—”

“You are every bit as vile as I remember,” says Ms. Murphy coarsely, using the same word for Keedie that she used for me. “Still completely disrespectful.”

“Addie was provoked,” Mr. Allison tells Nina and Keedie.

Her property was defaced, and she was humiliated in front of the class.

“Emily was goading her, saying awful things. In front of everyone.”

“Do you know what happens to autistic children when they slip through the cracks? Because of bigots like you?”

Keedie moves slowly and carefully, as if every step is a colossal effort.

I stare up at her, at the sheen in her eyes that tells me she is sad.

Cows are naturally very nosy. They can’t help themselves: they’re extremely curious and far too trusting. But very good confidants.

Three more cows amble over.

One cow tentatively licks my temple.

She looks slightly stunned to see me sitting on the grass, surrounded by a herd of inquisitive cows.

My brain conjures up memories, plays them like a montage.

My brain conjures up memories, plays them like a montage.

I make myself smaller. I shrink away, eyes downcast and hand outstretched. For a crumb of sympathy.

I imagine that I am pushing all the horrible words, all the nasty tones, the eye rolls, the shouting, the demands, the commands, the cruel laughter, the words they want me to hear, the things they think I can’t understand, the slow up-and-down looks, the jibes, the disrespect, the scraps of tolerance, and the constant unwillingness to understand.

I rock back and forth in my seat while the room bustles around me.

Miss Darrow would like to make a speech on behalf of her now-infamous campaign. For the small few of you who are not aware, Adeline has been canvassing for a memorial plaque or sculpture to be erected in memory of the Juniper victims of the witch trials.

“...Which happened”—he fixes me with a glower—“a very long time ago.”

“We will now deliberate and then vote.”

“That was awesome!” she gushes, grabbing my hands and jumping up and down. I laugh, giddy at her appreciation.

“So I got you something,” Audrey says, digging in her large anorak pocket.

She pulls out a little book and hands it to me with a flourish.

He gives a speech telling the journalists that he has always supported the idea and was thrilled upon reading that other communities in Edinburgh had undertaken similar ventures.

He gives a speech telling the journalists that he has always supported the idea and was thrilled upon reading that other communities in Edinburgh had undertaken similar ventures.

“So now, without further ado, Juniper presents...”

Mr. Macintosh reveals the memorial with aplomb.

May this plaque honor their lives
 and promise an end to intolerance.