Sage Runs Out of Counter Space (but don’t worry, everything’s fine) | Sage & June
The smell of melted butter and sugar filled the attic of the Black household. Although she wouldn’t admit it to you if you’d dare to even suggest such a thing to her, Sage felt as though she wasn’t quite in control of her own life. Sage Black was always prepared for anything. Jasmine had once nicknamed her Mary Poppins trying to mock her for all of the things she carried around in her purse in case of emergencies. It was her sister’s way of calling her a loser, but that was lost on Sage who would always take that sort of foresight and caution as a compliment. But this? Nothing that had happened since they’d arrived had been part of the plan.
There had been a huge appeal to the move at first glance: it would be a fresh start for all of them; a welcome change of pace from the crowds and constant energy of the city and, most of all, it would offer the Black sisters a way to reconnect with each other -- something they’d all sorely lacked since growing up. Sage had been enthusiastic about all of it. She’d only wished she could have had some idea of what really awaited them.
Going more than thirty years believing that you are one thing and then, in an instant, finding out that not only is magic real, but that you are both a witch and next in line to lead a coven of witches had been, to put it lightly, a shock. The whole thing still seemed a little absurd, like the entire town had gotten together to play some sort of elaborate prank on all of them - as though they were trying to see just how gullible the out of town city folk really were. But the strangest part of all of it, was that it somehow felt right. Like she should had known this all along.
It didn’t mean that learning magic was easy.
Sage had always been an eager student. Super organized, driven - the sort of person who would start on projects the moment the teacher assigned them. She could make school look easy (even when it wasn’t) because she loved it. But this wasn’t like that at all. She wasn’t used to this: to feeling so under prepared for a task; so hopelessly under-qualified and experienced. She was a sorry excuse for a witch, let alone someone who was supposed to take over for their aunt.
So she decided to deal with her problem like she dealt with any other she encountered: but ignoring her own feelings of inadequacy with aggressive optimism (fake it til you make it!) and throwing herself into other distractions which, today, meant making more cookies than she and her sisters (and possibly even all of the tenants in the entire Black house) could eat.
It was in the middle of all of this that June had returned home from work. Sage brushed away a loose strand of hair with flour-coated fingers as she greeted her sister with a tone that suggested that nothing was wrong (Sage rarely admitted she was struggling to herself, but she would never show such weakness in front of her siblings). “Hey! How was your day! I’m making cookies. Um,” She bit her lip, suddenly realizing that there was several batches on display - the last time she had made this many had been for a bake sale at Hazel’s school. “Wasn’t sure what kind our tenants like, so I made a bunch! Wanna lick the spoon?”