Serwa Boateng's Guide to Witchcraft and Mayhem by Roseanne A. Brown

Author:Roseanne A. Brown [Brown, Roseanne A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Disney Book Group
Published: 2023-09-12T00:00:00+00:00

I LIKE DECLAN AMANKWAH.

I like Declan Amankwah?!

But how could this happen! Why did this happen?!

Wait, that’s a stupid question. This happened because he’s funnier and smarter and nicer than I ever knew. It happened because even when we were little, whenever he walked into a room, I couldn’t focus on anything or anyone else. It happened because we’re lying next to each other on a trampoline in his backyard after he poured his heart out to me while literally covered in moonlight.

This whole situation is the kind of revolting cliché my mom and I would’ve made fun of in those period dramas my dad is obsessed with, except it doesn’t feel so cliché when it’s happening to you, and oh my gods, in those stupid shows, this is the moment where the main character and the love interest kiss.

“You okay?” asks Declan, and I let out a high-pitched laugh that would probably make a hyena want to scratch its own ears off.

“Me? I’m fine! I’m amazing! Never better!” I lie like every single one of my brain cells isn’t screaming because I have a crush and it’s on Declan Amankwah. Hanging out with him felt so natural just a minute ago, but now I’m too aware of my hair and my face and my everything, really. I need to put on a natural expression. What even is a good expression to wear when you’re alone with your crush and they…might…kiss…you? And, even more shocking, you want them to?

It’s in moments like this that I’m really glad my skin is as dark as it is, because I’m pretty sure if I was light-skinned, my face would be redder than a tomato.

“You sure you’re okay?” asks Declan. “You look like you’re going to throw up.”

I feel like throwing up because behind these new feelings is something far more familiar, yet equally overwhelming—the hunger. It’s just like my aunt said: An obayifo’s bloodlust is stronger around the object of their affection. I thought I’d be good on blood for at least the next few days after the incident at the Lincoln Theatre, but it’s like the realization of my crush has flung the floodgates of all my other uncontrollable urges wide open. I have to force myself to breathe as each new stomach pang racks through me stronger than the last.

I want to sit out here with Declan all night. I want to hold his hand. I want to bite down on one of those blood-filled arteries I can hear pulsing beneath his skin like a ticking time bomb.

My fangs push up against my gums, and now I suddenly understand why Auntie Effi said there isn’t much difference between a first kiss and a first bite.

“I need water!” I exclaim, and I hightail it off the trampoline before Declan can ask any more questions or do anything stupidly cute to make me bite his head off. Once I get to the kitchen, I lean my forehead against the wall in shock. All the

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