PROLOGUE
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Bonnie takes a sip of her root beer and says, "I'm going to become a fortune teller," and Caroline squints, her own root beer suspended inches from her lips as though frozen in time.
It's the first Saturday of summer break, and it's warm and sunny. The patio is still damp from earlier when Sheila had watered the flowerbeds, and a month ago, Bonnie would have ignored the way the wet earth hums like a bass note. There's an old white tea pot between them, fat and round like a cat, steaming with chamomile, but it goes mostly untouched except for the single cup Bonnie drank in front of Sheila to appease her.
"Did the college fair scare you that much?" Caroline asks incredulously and sets down her bottle with an audible thud. With Elena becoming a recluse after the funeral, she and Bonnie have decided to take turns as the voice of reason. Caroline's turn is, obviously, today. "That wasn't even for us, you know. We're not supposed to worry about that stuff until next year."
"You have to admit, I'd be really good at it," Bonnie points out, nose wrinkling thoughtfully, and doesn't really answer her question. "I could run away from Mystic Falls and set up a shop in some small village in France. Then I'd make a bunch of money, fall in love with the really hot winemaker that has a dark past, and live out the rest of my days saying oui and s'il vous plait."
Caroline looks vaguely impressed at her French pronunciation before shaking her head. "Alright, spill," she insists, accenting her words by snapping her fingers twice. "Where is this coming from, Bonnie Sheila Bennett?"
"I don't know," Bonnie lies.
Caroline groans. "Come on. You changed after the funeral. Sometimes you have that weird expression on your face, like you're looking at something no one else can see." People don't give Caroline more credit for her acuity and often brush her off as an air-headed blonde. Bonnie knows better.
"Remember that quote in Matt's bedroom that he keeps taped next to the window?" Bonnie tilts her root beer, letting the summer light catch on the tinted glass. "All great changes are preceded by chaos," she recites.
"What about it?"
Bonnie takes a long sip and thinks about how to respond without revealing too much. "Everything lately? Chaos." She stares out at the tree line past Sheila's backyard. The unknown. "I should ask Grams if she has any tarot cards she'd be willing to lend me for my fortune telling business."
Caroline kicks her gently under the table. "Yeah, it's been hectic, but we have each other. You're not going anywhere without me, Bon," she reminds her with a smile. "And if we're running to France, we have to get through Senior Prom first and buy cute outfits. I refuse to be your housewife who also falls in love with the winemaker unless we meet those two conditions."
Bonnie looks at her for a moment before throwing her head back and laughing loudly. "Is this the part where we make the best friend pact? Marry each other if we're still single by thirty, I mean."
"We already made that promise," Caroline sniffs. "In middle school, remember? Matt gets pouty if I bring it up."
"Right, of course. I'm sorry I forgot."
"You're forgiven." Caroline grins and leans back in her chair. "So, what are our plans for the summer? Besides finding a French tutor and getting a tarot deck."
Bonnie taps her chin. "Binge watch all the 90210 episodes we missed because of homework and tests?" she suggests.
"I like the way you think, future Mrs. Bennett-Forbes."
Their root beers clink together, and the breeze blows through the grass. If Bonnie listens closely, they sound just like whispers.
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Rudy points his fork at his daughter and purses his lips. The Tuesday morning sun silhouettes his form and makes his sky-blue robe shine. "Something about you is different," he says seriously.
"Huh?" Bonnie manages intelligently around a bite of her pancakes. She's hardly awake, having gone to bed around 3 a.m. the past couple of nights watching 90210 with Caroline. "Different how?"
He studies her. "You've been out tanning."
"What?" Bonnie snorts loudly.
"I don't know how else to describe it. Something seems almost bright about you." Rudy's pensive expression became suspicious, and Bonnie freezes, wondering if she's been found out. "You're not dating, are you? Is this the new boyfriend glow?"
Bonnie nearly chokes on her pancakes this time and swallows the shock with the help of relief and orange juice. "What? No, no, no. I'm very single." She pauses. "However, Caroline and I did promise to get married if we remain single by thirty. It's going to be a June wedding. We'll even run to France for the honeymoon and stay there forever."
It's Rudy's turn to choke. "It's not serious, right?" he grabs a napkin and wipes his mouth. "I don't know if I'm prepared to have Caroline as a daughter-in-law. What's this about France?"
"I was thinking of being a fortune teller," Bonnie answers, grinning at the dry look her dad gives her. "Come on, I'll read your palm right now. Don't you want to know if you'll grow hair by the end of the year?"
"Funny, Bon." He shakes his head. "Is your grandmother filling your head with nonsense again?"
"Nope," Bonnie says, taking another bite of her pancake. "I just thought that the future is scary, and I really don't want to think about it, so running away is the best solution."
Rudy raises a brow. "That's a very teenager mindset." He rubs his chin, clearly devoted to this fantasy as much as his daughter. "Why France? New Orleans might be better and closer. I don't want to break my bank account trying to visit."
"There's a whole plan. I have to fall in love with a hot winemaker that has a dark past."
"Won't you be married to Caroline?" Rudy asks, so genuinely confused and distraught over his daughter's hypothetical affair that Bonnie doubles over laughing.
"Don't worry, she's going to fall in love with him too," she reassures him. "It'll be a passionate throuple. She's going to have the first kid."
Rudy throws his hands in the air. "Alright. Just promise not to get into trouble or get married before college while I'm in New York for the next two months. If Sheila tries to feed you some voodoo baked chicken, feel free to call me and then the police."
Bonnie salutes. "Will do, chief," she says and tries to hide her disappointment that he'll leave her in an empty house, again.
They fall into a companionable yet fragile silence, finishing their breakfast, their forks scraping against plates. He's right in front of her, but she already misses him and knows the gap between them will never close the more she accepts her existence as a witch.
He speaks up first as they wash the dishes. "Are you sure it has to be Caroline? I think Elena is the better choice. Definitely more responsible and fits the countryside housewife vibes."
"Dad!"
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Bonnie stares at the pink flyer in her hands. It's smudged, and part of the words are faded, as if this flyer came from the very top of the pile, after the printer began to run out of ink.
"Ballet?" she asks, blinking owlishly. Bonnie hadn't expected this when Sheila invited her over before she went off to see Caroline. "I thought you wanted me to start meditating in the forest."
Sheila bites her lower lip. "It'll be good to maintain some normalcy, don't you think? I know you want to start practicing more magic, but you shouldn't sacrifice being a teenager to do that." Her tone is light, but Bonnie can see right through her.
"Something's happening to me, is that it?" Bonnie sets down the flyer and watches her grandmother pour herself another glass of rum. "After I told you the trees banging against my window sounded like screaming the other day, you've been looking at me like you can't figure me out. I'm not some puzzle, Grams. You can't solve me without telling saying what the problem is."
Sheila sets down her drink and breathes deeply. "That's just it, child. I don't know what the problem is, and that scares me." She sits next to Bonnie on the couch. "I knew I was a witch since I could walk, and you were barred from that experience because your father refused to even let me through the front door until I promised to never say magic."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"What was it like? In that dead meadow and suddenly the flowers were blooming at your feet after I told you to think of your happiest memory?"
Bonnie had never felt more alive. Late afternoon light filled her face; the spring rainstorm had come and gone, taking the darkness with it. At first, she had been apprehensive, wondering why her grandmother led her to a rotten field after Bonnie had a nightmare about Elena and her parents. "Relieved," she replies after a moment. "Like I was waiting for that moment all along."
"Because you were finally able to be yourself," Sheila says firmly. "I knew from the beginning that you were destined for greatness. Your mom could tell too. The Spirits' wouldn't stop talking for days after you were born."
Bonnie pushes down the ache at the mention of her absent mother and replaces it with resentment. She should be here with Sheila, telling Bonnie about magic and nature, and promising to help guide her. "Why does it sound like that shouldn't be something to be proud of?" she points out warily.
"Untouched, powerful magic is the most unpredictable magic. The Spirits' are both fascinated and afraid of it, and they have the right to be. In the end, it usually lashes out, hurting something beyond repair. Think of the world's worst natural disasters."
Bonnie sits up straight. Earthquakes, volcano eruptions, and tsunamis flash in her mind's eye. It makes her sick to her stomach. "I'm going to hurt people?" Bonnie whispers.
"No, child, you're not," Sheila reassures her. "But people might hurt you. I knew I had to act fast after your visions, and the meadow is just the beginning."
"I was so stupid," Bonnie groans, rubbing her face. To think her predictions about Heath Ledger and Obama were hints that could have ultimately helped prevent Elena from becoming an orphan. "I should have listened to you, believed you, but dad convinced me you were just crazy about alcohol and old myths."
Sheila removes Bonnie's hands from her face and holds them tightly. "Listen to me, Bonnie. There's no time to regret those things. Right now, you're like a beacon, I can sense you even when I'm on the other side of town, and anything supernatural will look at you like a meal they haven't had for centuries."
"You mean other witches?" Bonnie asks, confused, and also thinks about Caroline's and her father's comments.
"Right, yes, other witches." Sheila looks pained and then clears her throat. "Take the ballet class. I made your mother do it too when she was a kid—it's the best way to exhaust any excessive energy. Try to convince Caroline and Elena to join you."
Bonnie looks down at the flyer in her lap. 45 minutes, every Tuesday and Thursday evening. The most she remembers about Mrs. McCormick are her kind eyes and tasty cupcakes at the school bake sale.
"If it helps, I'll do it."
Sheila squeezes her hands. "Good. And remember what I said, absolutely under no circumstances do you tell Caroline and Elena about your magic. The less they know, the safer they are."
Only until Bonnie nods does Sheila let her go.
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"This is torture," Caroline complains. "I thought my flexibility was okay for cheerleading, but this?" she gestures at the stretch Bonnie is doing. "This is ridiculous."
Elena hadn't answered their calls or texts, nor did she let Jenna allow them to see her, so they decided to take the ballet class without her. It's disappointing they can't share this with her, but Bonnie loves it, even though it's only the second day, while Caroline is convinced ballet is an ancient torment used against innocent women.
"Less using your oxygen to whine, more using it for your stretches, little Forbes," Mrs. McCormick calls out, and Caroline pouts when she beams at Bonnie. She's tall, a commanding presence, and her face is framed by wisps of soft gray that could be mistaken for a dye job. "Good job, Bonnie. Are you sure you haven't done this before?"
Bonnie sits up straight and shrugs. "My mom apparently took ballet classes, and I guess Grams hinted that she did too." She ignores the twin sympathetic looks Mrs. McCormick and Caroline give her. "Maybe it's a Bennett thing. None of them went professional, as far as I know."
"Well, whatever the case," Mrs. McCormick says after an awkward silence, "I'm glad to have you here. You too, Caroline. I usually don't have students this early in the summer. Everyone tends to travel for the beginning of the break."
Caroline grins mischievously. "Hey, Mrs. McCormick, have you ever been to France?" she grunts when Bonnie slaps her thigh a little harder than she intended to.
"I did with my ballet group. It was a long time ago."
Caroline dodges another slap from Bonnie. "Have you met any hot winemakers?" she asks giddily.
Mrs. McCormick brightens. "I have actually," she whispers scandalously behind her palm, as if the walls are listening. "He was gorgeous. Nothing like my husband, of course, but he made all the girls swoon."
Bonnie pinches the bridge of her nose as Caroline asks Mrs. McCormick more questions about her passionate French romance. She looks at the wide mirror on the far wall of the studio, taking in her high bun and black leotard. Bonnie blinks, and for a split second, she begins to feel lightheaded, getting up only to wobble slightly and end up tilting right into Mrs. McCormick's side.
"Bonnie, you okay?" Caroline asks, concerned, grabbing Bonnie by the arm.
She opens her mouth to answer, interrupted by flashing images of a younger looking Mrs. McCormick in a yellow dress standing on a balcony with a towering, brooding man with short, dark blonde hair. He's in a sleeveless shirt, dirt stains covering the hem, and there's a rose tattoo on his shoulder. They share secret smiles and point to the stars. She's beautiful, and so he is; they make a lovely pair.
The vision disappears as quickly as it comes.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she forces out. "Just got up too fast."
Caroline clearly doesn't believe her, but after drinking an entire water bottle does she finally stop worrying over Bonnie. Mrs. McCormick announces it's time to continue on, though she gives Bonnie more attention than she would like, though she does smile when Caroline sticks her tongue out at their instructor's turned back.
By the end of it, they're on the floor, panting and trying to regain feeling in their legs. Mrs. McCormick claps happily and concludes the class for the day. She promises to see them next Tuesday as she makes her way out of the door, citing that she needs to start dinner, or her children might eat their father.
"We're never doing this again," Caroline hisses. "Or I want a divorce."
Bonnie gasps. "We haven't even gotten married yet!" she protests.
"Whatever! I'm never coming back!"
Bonnie's expression is considerably smug when Caroline arrives right on time for the next lesson and avoids Bonnie's eyes as they do the stretches.
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Notes:
I wanted to write Bonnie as both powerful (not unstoppable) and vulnerable at the start of the show. She's a teenager, after all, and she also got the short end of the stick for the wrong reasons, so this is me giving Bonnie what I think she deserves storytelling wise. Will men also suddenly fall at her feet? No, but that doesn't mean she won't have love interests and lack really good chemistry. I am very Team Multiship Bonnie lol.
I would love to hear from you all about this! What could be added, what you'd like to see, etc etc.
(Also, is there a discord for Bonnie fans...I feel like there should be.)