The Scapegracers (Scapegracers, #1)

by H.A. Clarke

“I guess my point is that teenage girls aren’t supposed to be powerful, you know? Everybody hates teenage girls. They hate our bodies and hate us if we want to change them. They hate the things we’re supposed to like but hate it when we like other things even more, because that means we’re ruining their things. We’re somehow this great corrupting influence, even though we’ve barely got legal agency of our own.

I had neither fight nor flight. It was a sickly feeling, not one I appreciated. I was more comfortable with rage. There was something repugnant about the absence of rage in me. I wanted my fury back. I wanted a bath. And chocolate.

Witches are powerful because they help each other, the book had said. This wasn’t the time for my weird internalized faux-macho scaredy-cat bullshit.

We’re friends now. Blood is truly thicker than water, is it not? We spilled some blood between us with that glass. If Yates is your sister, I’m your sister, too. And now I have to fucking kill those assholes. Boys don’t touch my girls, I swear to God.

Fucking Christ, I was supposed to be Sideways the spooky lesbian weirdo. I had a fucking reputation to maintain, and it would not withstand a nickname like Lamby. Lamby. Goddamn it.