Page 12 of Everything She Does Is Magic

I sink into my seat, fighting off the blush that wants to rise to my cheeks. “I’m sure it’s exactly what it sounds like. I just…wanted to know more.”

She nods in encouragement. “Of course. I’m happy to do that. We shut down Fableview Boulevard and some of the surrounding side streets, and we hold a parade. Little kids walk down the street in costumes. Business owners hand out candy as the kids pass. People bring their families in from out of town to participate. It’s very sweet.”

“Do the businesses offer anything other than candy for the attendees?” I ask.

The people who clapped for my presence have now turned their torsos a full 180 degrees to see me. I’m not inexperienced in the art of derision. Most people find me off-putting. But it’s rare even for me to have gained and lost the favor of an entire room in a matter of only a few minutes. Grace’s taunting seemstame in comparison to the open annoyance now being hurled my way.

“You’re all already dressed in costumes, right?” I continue, finding myself wanting their approval. Or to prove my role here. Darcy has gone out of her way to make me feel welcome. I can’t be the one everyone hates. Not already.

“You know, wecouldhave personalized shop tie-ins,” Darcy says. “Each of us could offer something unique! Discounts for people who return in our offseason.”

“Maybe even your own kind of parade inside the shops,” I suggest. “Like, everyone has to stop inside, and somehow it could build so each shop could give you a reason to go to the next one for something?”

We volley back and forth a little longer. It’s surprisingly easy to talk to Darcy, even in front of a crowd. She seems eager to hear me out. Excited by what I’m saying. What we come up with sounds fun, even to me, a person who has never once voluntarily attended aparade.

With his most theatrical, grunting noise of displeasure yet, the same older wizard from earlier interrupts us to ask, “Why would we need to change what we already know works perfectly?”

He doesn’t even sound judgmental. He’s calm, rational. Why would this town branch out when they’ve had success doing things the way they always have?

I think of my family’s coven. How we’ve functioned the same way for generations, asking our witches to bring mortal friends to our initiations to pledge loyalty to our coven, with no consideration of whether that’s even necessary anymore.

Our ancestor was almost killed for her magic hundreds of years ago. Times have changed. Not to mention the fact that we get initiated on our eighteenth birthday, and we have to pick people who will protect our coven for the rest of ourlives. Every town I’ve ever lived in, the adults make mention of how the things I do as a teen may not reflect who I will one day become. They say it about my clothes, telling me that maybe one day, I’ll like wearing something other than black. They say it about the music I listen to, promising me I won’t want to play only sad stuff. It will get depressing once I’m an adult, and I’ll want a break from that feeling. They say it about my personality, telling me I’ll grow out of being sullen.

To them, everything about me is a supposed phase. And that’s always been annoying, because Iknowmyself. I know what I like and what I want, and it doesn’t make me any better or worse than them just because I haven’t been alive as long as they have. It’s ironic that choosing a protector is the only thing they trust me to make a good decision about, and it’s this huge, life-altering choice. I’m supposedly this hormonal, ever-changing creature of the night as a teenager, but also, I need to pick a friend who can look out for me until my dying breath?

“What if something else works better?” I challenge, forgetting for a second that this wizard is a stranger, not a member of my family’s coven. I should keep my mouth shut. But I can’t help but wonder—why can’t we want things to be better than they are? Why can’t we try something different?

“I don’t think any of us are in the mood to experiment,” the wizard tells me.

Darcy takes a quick breath to regroup. She tosses back herlong blond hair as she moves to the next item on her agenda. She’s so good at letting things roll off her back.

I don’t think a single thing has ever rolled off mine.

The rest of the meeting, I remain quiet. I’m just an outsider, after all. Always an outsider. The most considerate thing I can do in this situation is to shut up.

When Darcy dismisses us, I attempt to slink out, hurrying down the hallway to beat the rush. I make it all the way through the exit and onto the street when Darcy calls my name.

One word, and my arms tingle, goose bumps prickling across my flesh.

She jogs to meet me as several other committee members file past us. She waves goodbyes, making promises to talk to them soon about other matters brought up during the meeting. But she doesn’t move. She has one foot planted forward, almost stepping between my legs.

“Thanks for coming today,” she says once the rest of the committee is gone.

“Of course,” I tell her. There are a dozen conversation starters I wish I had, but none come to mind, so I leave it at that, hoping my sincerity has broken through the constant rain cloud that is my general disposition.

She places a hand on my shoulder. My goose bumps get electrified by the contact, pinpricks of excitement threatening to make me do something reckless, like smile. “We can still change things, you know.”

“I think the wizard guy would place a curse on us if we do,” I say.

She laughs. “He might. Which is why we won’t tell anyonewe’re doing it.” The way she’s grinning is a death blow to my rain cloud.

How could I do anything but smile in return?

She hands me a piece of paper with several dates and activities listed. “This is the full schedule for the month of October,” she says.

There are so many events on it that I’m exhausted just reading it—a costume parade, a pumpkin patch party, an apple bobbing contest, a haunted carnival. Something called the Fall Ball happening the night before Halloween, described as a town-wide dance that requires formalwear.

“I know,” Darcy says, reading along with me. “It’s a lot. But that means we have plenty of chances to try stuff out. No one here will ever let us do anything new if we ask. We have to show them that it can work first. If you’re still in, that is.”