Page 105 of How (Not) to Conjure a Boyfriend
Focus, Kenzie.I sprinkle a little more yarrow and mugwort around the candle and pick up the lighter.Breathe.But a quiet sob breaches my lips.Focus on your spell.My tears don’t stop, but I ignite the lighter anyway. I stare at the flickering yellow flame a second. It dances above the wick, ready to spark a new flame, but I stop short of lighting it. I suck my lips in and sigh. My nerves are on edge, and my chest is so heavy. I need this, but I don’t know if I should.
No. Stop. Just stop, Kenzie. This is how you messed all this up in the first place.I sigh and wipe my face—it seems like that’s all I’m doing tonight. Crying. My chest is tight, like it’s retracting in on itself, squeezing my heart into oblivion. It feels like it’s cracking under the pressure, wilted and black beneath all this chaos and pain, drowning me in my head. It’s unbearable. I swear it’s going to drive me insane.
I need to forget. I need to go back to that person who fawned over an unreachable boy with no real hope of obtaining him. The one who didn’t let it drag them across the coals and bite at their thoughts every waking minute. It was normal. It was just a crush. That’s where I want to be again. I don’t want to remember that moment they thought I was Hayden’s enbyfriend. I don’t want to remember the rest.
I release the lighter’s trigger, and the flame disappears as I shake my head. This isn’t the time for a ritual. Not with the way I feel. There’s no way on Odin’s green Earth my intentions would be pure now. My grief, self-hatred, disgust—it’ll find a way toseep in and pollute it, and if that happens it’ll be a distorted and twisted version of my intent, just like all this was.
I lean back and let out a slow breath.Just slow down, Kenzie. Breathe.
My phone vibrates, and my eyes dart to the screen. I deflate a little. It’s Kaitlynn. She can wait. Actually right now, everyone can wait.Breathe.
I look up at the ceiling and close my eyes.
“Freyja.” I force my eyes open. A simple prayer will do. “Odin. Balder. Thor. Hodor. I need your help.”
But what do I ask for? Forgiveness? Clarity? Forgetfulness? Is it selfish to keep wanting to forget? Sometimes being selfish isn’t a bad thing, but when?
I sigh and make a decision. “I know forgiveness wasn’t really a common concept back in your time, but if one of you could find it in your plan to forgive my…” I pause. My what? My intentions? My lies? My deceit? My fear of losing all of them? I swallow back the lump in my throat and wipe new tears from my face. I have this. “My lies. Please forgive my lies and let me find peace in what’s left.”
30
I jerk to life as something blares in my ear. What the… Oh. It’s my alarm, TXT’s “Frost.” I slap at my phone once I find it strewn on the bed, finally prying my eyelids open. I don’t remember falling asleep. My last memory is sitting in bed, crying, and the smell of incense wafting about my room.
I sit up and check my phone. Eleven o’clock on the dot and…I have two texts from Zachary. Please stop.
ZACHARY: Hey
ZACHARY: Can we talk?
“Nope,” I say directly at the phone. I’m not sitting here and texting back and forth about how much I screwed up and ruined everything. And even if it’s not that, I can’t deal with anything else right now.
I drop my phone back onto the ruffled comforter and lie back down. I don’t want to go to work today. My eyes are too heavy, complete with dark bags.IfI had enough motivation, I could probably use a little makeup and make them not so noticeable, but not today. Can’t I just stay here and be sad alone, at home, and in bed? What better place?
I let my eyes close, but the dark is replaced by him. Those intense yet kind steel eyes, looking at me. It sends a twinge of pain straight through my heart knowing I’ll never see those again. Not in the same way, at least.
I shake back to life, trying to lose him from my head, and suddenly my watch reads 11:20 a.m. Shit. I pounce—well, more like slouch—out of bed and take a much-needed shower before putting on a thick black shirt and brown skirt, then layering my thickest jacket over it all. I don’t want to face people today. Ineed everyone to be nice and not complain—the impossible I know, but please! I can’t deal with the junk.
At least Kaitlynn is going to be there, and I think Dawn. I need them to distract me, to get me out of my head. Maybe it’s better to be at work than here at home, staring at a wall. I still don’t want to leave though.
I scoop my keys from the little table next to my bed and drag my feet into the hallway. Mom’s waiting at the other end, arms crossed in a tan blazer. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was heading out for church.
“Morning,” she says. “I made you some of those orange cinnamon rolls you like.”
To my surprise, my mood lifts the tiniest bit and I manage a gentle smile.
“Sweet,” I say, trying for her to be a little more myself, and move faster down the hall. “A reason to live.”
“How’d you sleep?” Mom asks, shaking her head at my response.
“Fine, I guess,” I say, and follow her into the kitchen.
Four rolls sit on a plate, slathered in a fresh warm orange glaze. I breathe in their citrusy aroma and pick one up.
“Is it all right if I take this on the road?” I ask. “I’m running behind.”
“Sure,” she says, and gets a little plastic container from the cabinet. While she packages the other three, I say a quick thanks to Freyja for my mom. “Now be sure to give at least one of these to Kaitlynn, okay?”
“I’ll give her half of one,” I joke.
