Any Witch Way You Can (Wicked Witches of the Midwest, #1)

by Amanda M. Lee

was buttoned up to the very top. “Don’t you ever listen to me?” Edith whined. Not really. “Of course,” I lied. “I was just focusing on the files for a second. I’m sorry.”

Lying for... no good reason. Being a bitch to Edith.

“Huh. I could have sworn they were gay given the hair gel issues they share.”

Joke about gay men made in poor taste.

We’re like Duck Dynasty – without the millions and the non-stop hunting. Oh, and the rampant sexism, of course.

Mhm. Sure.

The technical term is post-cognitive – but I don’t really think in technical terms. I just have the ability to see more people – or what used to be people – than everyone else.

I actually kind of like this line. The narrator has earned herself one point, which only slightly dented the negative points she earned for the earlier highlights.

“Impressive sight?” “You have no idea,” Clove giggled. “He looks like one of those guys on the fliers for the gym in Traverse City.” “He looks gay?” Clove snorted. “He’s definitely not gay. He about fell over himself when he saw Thistle.”

What is your deal with guys "looking gay?" Stop stereotyping, for fuck's sake.

“Well, I’m not sure I believe that,” I started to argue with Aunt Tillie. We were like oil and vinegar. All of our interactions always evolved into an argument – and sometimes a slap fight. “Are you calling me a liar?” “No. I’m just saying that maybe you are exaggerating.” “I don’t exaggerate.”

This family is horrible.

“She used to bring your Uncle Calvin cookies all the time,” Aunt Tillie had turned back to me. “Was she naked when she brought him the cookies?” Aunt Tillie looked scandalized. “Of course not.” “Than why do you think she was trying to steal Uncle Calvin?” “Why else would she make him cookies?” “Maybe because she knew you couldn’t cook.”

Bay, you're antagonizing on purpose. Fucking hell.

“So, that means they follow their bodies,” Thistle deduced. “I don’t think there are any hard and fast rules when you’re a ghost,” I said, my contempt obvious. “It’s not like they get a handbook, like in Beetlejuice. They pretty much do whatever they want.” “She’s probably right,” Clove said ruefully. Of course I was right. I’m always right. When will they realize that?

The ego is not flattering.

“And if they catch us there at night? You don’t think they’ll find that suspicious?” She had a point. “Of course,” Thistle said calmly. “But hopefully no one will see us in the dark.” Yeah, because we’ll suddenly become invisible and able to fly.

Nor is the sarcasm, really.

Depending on how much liquor was imbibed at these celebrations, they often ended up in nude dances under the moonlight. People didn’t risk cutting through our woods anymore. Once you’ve seen middle-aged boobs that big flopping around – you wouldn’t risk it either.

Okay, I laughed.

I smiled to myself. I had forgotten how much that movie freaked Clove out. “Malachai! Malachai!” I hissed, in my best impression of the creepy kid from the movie’s voice. “You stop that right now!” Clove stomped her small foot indignantly. “He who walks behind the rows,” Thistle whispered evilly. “He’s coming for you.” “I’m telling if you don’t stop it,” Clove whimpered. Who was she going to tell?

Clove seems to be portrayed as really immature from Bay's POV. The taunting from her cousins doesn't help.

Shane seemed to be coming out of his funk because he was smiling when he got a better look at Thistle under the moonlight. “My guardian angel is hot!” Thistle turned to me. The fake smile on her face looked like it was carved out of granite. When I didn’t budge on my earlier proclamation, though, she sighed reluctantly. “Fine, he can come to the magic store.” She turned on her heel and started to head out of the corn maze. I smiled as Shane readily followed us. “Aw, man, you all have asses like super models! Can I watch you in the shower?”

Teenage boys..

Clove turned to me as I paused to let her enter the maze in front of me. “Now I can see why he was killed.”

Now that's just cold.

I hate it when she or Thistle is right and I’m wrong. That doesn’t happen very often, mind you. When it does, though, it tilts my whole world sideways.

If I jumped from your ego to your problem-solving abilities, I'd break a leg.

Most of the messages were the generic ruminations of empty-headed teenagers. “I didn’t know Shane all that well, but he’ll be really missed at school.” “I wish I’d gotten to know him better.” “He was a really sweet guy.” “He was a really smart guy.” “He was a really funny guy.”

Okay, teenagers are the new group of people to pick on. For, y'know, not being perfect tiny adults, I guess?

“These people have the right to grieve, too,” Edith said. “They’re teenagers. When something like this happens it makes them question their own mortality. This is how they do it.” “I think they’re just looking for attention.” “That’s your cynicism again.”

I agree with Edith.

If I came back as a ghost, I’d be bitching like nobody’s business.

One of the rare times I agree with Bay.

figured that, if I told them Thistle would rather choke them than chatter with them, I’d get a teenage meltdown of epic proportions. This way, I was placating their egos – and soothing Thistle’s frazzled nerves at the same time.

Seriously, do you have something against teenagers?

I looked at her, sympathy welling. I kept reminding myself that she was just a teenage girl. She didn’t mean to be annoying. It is just part of the teenage DNA makeup. They can’t help it.

Did your house get egged on Halloween once or something? Is that why you hate teens?

“No one likes a bitch, dear,” Twila said in a saccharine voice as she patted Thistle a little too harshly on the cheek. “You’ll never find a man if you talk down to him like that. Of course, any man you find right now would have to look past your hair and try to find the warmth inside you, anyway. That might be too

Entire family of horrid, bitchy people.

“Please, this family doesn’t have a tact gene,” she argued. “We’ve got a busybody gene, a cooking gene, a petulant gene. The tact gene just didn’t skip our entire generation; it skipped our entire gene pool.”