Sewell wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. His nose was still running.
“I wish I could’ve been your mom.”
The girl looked absolutely shocked.
“A little kid like you? Being my mom? Quit it with the creepy jokes.”
“I’m being honest! You just looked so...lonely.”
“You trying to sympathize with me? I don’t need any—”
“That’s not it! I just thought you were so beautiful.”
Sewell had been enraptured since the day he’d first laid eyes upon her. It must be true that witches have magical powers, he thought. After all, Sewell had been bewitched in no time flat and had come here every day in search of her.
“I just thought it would be nice if you had a life where you could smile a lot—then you’d be even more beautiful! So if I was your mom, then I thought I’d have the power to make you smile.”
“You think I’m beautiful?” the girl said, after a moment’s shocked silence. Sewell was confused by her reaction—he was only telling the truth. He continued to wipe away his tears as he nodded.
“Yeah! You’re really beautiful. I love your vibrant red hair and your fiery red eyes. And how strong you are, to be able to keep on going on your own.”
As Sewell spoke, he cocked his head to one side in confusion. It wasn’t just her eyes and hair that were red—her cheeks and her ears had started to glow red too.
Coming back to her senses, the girl spun away from Sewell in a rush.
“Are you stupid? Who says sappy crap like that with a straight face?”
“I’m not being sappy, I’m just being honest!”
“Quit it!”
“Ow!”
A slap stung Sewell’s cheek as he stood proudly up to her. As tears welled up in his eyes for a very different reason than before, the girl made a curt announcement.
“It’s Greta.”
“Huh?”
“That’s my name, you dum-dum!” she said, sticking her tongue out mockingly before going back inside and slamming the door.
Sewell tried to keep a lid on his absolute joy.
“Greta!”
Even her name was adorable. Up on cloud nine for the rest of the day, Sewell practiced saying her name over and over. Even after he’d gone to bed, thoughts of her kept him awake until the early hours.
✧ ✧ ✧
The pair continued to see one another. Whatever else the day demanded of him, Sewell always found time to go and see Greta.
Greta, for her part, no longer chased Sewell off without a word. There were days when she wanted to be alone, but now she would preface this wish with, “Get lost.” This was a big improvement in Sewell’s eyes. However, he did have one concern.
“Greta, you’re all skin and bones. I’m worried.”
“Anyone would be, compared to you,” Greta said, tutting loudly.
However, Sewell disagreed. Greta was far thinner than all the other kids who were Sewell’s age. It was because she lived an impoverished existence and couldn’t afford to eat proper meals.
Apparently, Greta made a living from the potions she created using her powers as a witch. The reason Sewell wasn’t certain about this was because he had never once seen her sell any of her potions.
According to Greta, some of the villagers requiring her potions came up to her door in the middle of the night. She respected their privacy and didn’t tell Sewell their names—despite her young age, Greta was wiser than actual adults in some ways. The compensation she received from her work was unfortunately not enough to fill her stomach. One of the chief reasons for this was that many in the village discriminated against Greta for being a witch, and so they often refused to sell things to her, or, if they did, it was with unfair markups.
Greta’s meals consisted mostly of meager soups or some of the herbs and vegetables that grew in the wild. Sewell was panicking—at this rate, she wouldn’t last through the winter. It was then that Sewell hit upon an idea: he decided he would deliver food to her. Today was the first time he had come bearing a gift.
“You’re not wrong,” he said. “Anyway, this is for you. Please eat it.”
“I don’t want your charity.”
Sewell was a bit troubled to be flat-out rejected.
“It’s not charity... I made these cookies for you. I wanted you to have them.”
Greta let out a snort. “Homemade cookies? Well, doesn’t the rich boy have it good! What a refined little hobby you have.”
“Well, this is the first time I’ve actually made them. I wanted to give you something, so I asked my mom how to bake them. Um, it would make me really happy if you gave them a try!”
As Sewell grew redder and redder in his earnest explanation, Greta was dumbfounded yet again. Sewell was holding the basket with shaking hands. As she took it from him, Greta murmured to herself in exasperation upon noticing its weight.
“This is way too full.”
“Sorry. I brought the amount that I usually eat...”
Greta was a girl, after all. Sewell made a mental note to keep in mind her smaller stomach when cooking for her in the future.
To his surprise, Greta picked up one of the tea-towel-wrapped cookies. Sewell’s heart was in his throat, threatening to burst with nervousness.
She bit into it with a crunch. Sewell mustered up his courage to ask, “H-How is it?”
“Sweet.”
“I used lots of sugar!” Sewell said, with an embarrassed laugh.
Despite her complaints, Greta reached in for another cookie. Sewell was filled with an overwhelming joy and couldn’t stand still.
“They ended up being a bit dry this time, but don’t worry, I’m going to keep practicing and get even better. You can leave it to me!”
The sound of Greta crunching away filled the silence for a moment.
“You really are thickheaded, huh?” Greta said.
“Not at all! I’m actually pretty smart. My teacher often tells me so.”
“That’s exactly what I was talking about, you idiot.”
Sewell thought about what he would bake next. If he practiced, he was sure to get better at it. He could try adding in walnuts or other types of nuts, or maybe dried fruits, or maybe cheese... If he adjusted some of the ratios, that would change the mouthfeel too. These thoughts and a greater motivation welled up in him as he thought of what would suit Greta’s palate.
Sewell had been a boy who’d gladly eaten any and all treats prepared for him, but it seemed now that he was more suited to the role of giver. This was something new about himself that his meeting with Greta had brought to light. Being with her kept revealing facets of himself that he never knew he had.
Greta kept grumbling as she ate the entire basket of cookies. Sewell had been intending to finish any she didn’t eat, but seeing Greta eat every last crumb made him so happy that his heart felt full.
“Greta, what are your favorite foods? Sweets or dishes...whatever, really. I’ll work hard to learn how to make them for you, so just let me know.”
“Your cookies,” Greta said quietly, after a pause.
“Huh?”
Sewell had barely caught what she said.
“Shut up, you stupid idiot! Go home!” Greta snapped, slapping him on the back.
Sewell had been about to laugh, but his breath caught in his throat. As he fell into a coughing fit, Greta could only look on, the blood draining from her face.