An Unlikely Witch by Debora Geary

winced.  Perhaps war threatened.  Even the small furry creature had gone into hiding.
    The tiny one with much power came close.  She was interesting.  Fiery.  And very loud.  The orb did not sense in her mind what it had felt from the others. 
    Exuberance made their thoughts far too audible.  They were planning something.
    -o0o-
    Lauren carried in the bags of groceries, not at all convinced this was a good idea.  Hopefully it fell under the category of “picking her battles wisely.”  She stopped on the threshold and nearly got run over by Nat and Lizard, carrying their own loads behind her.
    “Stop again and I’m dropping these cans on your toes.”  Their resident poet was grumpy.  “This crap’s heavy.”
    They’d maybe gone a little overboard with the canned goods.
    “What’s all that?”  Suspicion from the other side of what served as the castle’s common room.  Trinity, den mother of sorts to a halfway house full of runaway teens, stood in the doorway, glowering.
    Lizard stepped to the front and glowered back.  “You said people wanted cooking lessons.  We’re here to deliver.”
    Some of them were just here to carry the bags.  Lauren set hers down on the side table and eyed the makeshift kitchen doubtfully.  The stove looked older than sin.
    It works fine.  Josh and Devin fixed it up.  Lizard was already rummaging in her bags.  She glanced over at Trinity and raised an eyebrow.  “So go find someone for us to teach.”
    Lauren exchanged a hilarity-filled look with Nat and buried her grin in a bag.  Ten minutes ago, Lizard had been making gooey eyes with Josh in the produce section of the grocery store.  Now, her delinquent was firmly in place.
    Trinity’s glower hadn’t budged.  “What are you gonna make?”
    “Biscuits and baked beans.”  A can opener sailed through the air.  “Pretty sure even you can’t screw up stuff out of a can.”
    “I’ve been feeding myself since I was three years old.  Don’t diss me, noodle lady, or I’ll use that sharp tongue of yours to open my beans.”
    Six months ago, Lauren might have thought this was headed south.  She’d gotten wiser in the ways of friendly pissing contests since then.
    “It’s not you I’m planning to teach.”  Lizard had her poker face dialed extra high.  “Students.  Now.  I haven’t got all night.”
    “Yeah, yeah, you have hot stuff to shag.  My heart bleeds for you.”  Trinity turned around into the hallway and let out a yell that could have been heard halfway to New York.  “Yo, people.  Anyone who wants to learn how to open a can or make those hunks of bread the noodle lady calls biscuits, get your asses down here now.”
    Nat was barely keeping her giggles in check.  Lauren opened a channel to her best friend.  You want to teach the can-opener part, or the pouring-beans-into-the-pot part?  No way was either of them going to be let near the biscuit part of the lesson.  Noodle lady had standards.
    Shadows started slinking into the room.  Teens well used to keeping their faces hidden.  Trinity swung an arm at a couple of ball caps.  “Hats off.  Show some respect.”
    One of the guys eyed her head.
    She leveled him with a gaze that could have melted titanium.  “That’s a bandana.  Totally different.”
    He shrugged.  “I guess it’ll keep your ugly hair out of my beans.”
    “I hate beans.”  Another face, this time one Lauren didn’t know.  “And covering them with tomato slime and some dead pig doesn’t make them taste any better.”
    Lizard slid her eyes in the direction of the latest complainer.  “Beans are cheap and healthy and only a total moron can’t use a can opener.  Suck it up.”
    “Whatever.”
    Lauren snuck a quick mindglance.  Another couple of insults and he’d be hooked.  And they had four other bodies in the room.  That was a record.
    Nat had already approached Missy, a quiet girl with blonde hair and dreams of a job that let her afford a