Page 13 of Everything She Does Is Magic

There’s a flicker of optimism in her eyes, the tiniest bit of trust that I can’t believe I’ve earned. If I really tried, I could easily come up with a convincing reason to turn her down.

But I don’t want to try. I want to be the kind of person Darcy Keller believes in.

“I’m in,” I say.

20 Days Until Halloween

7

Darcy

My fairy wings keep clanking against our wall of ceramics. More than once I’ve had to make a hero save, stopping one of our family masterpieces from crashing to the floor. This isn’t my first time wearing this costume. I’ve never had a problem navigating our front desk space in it before. Somehow, my sense of place has shifted, like everything in my world has been moved a fraction of an inch, and I no longer know how to get around like I used to.

I keep turning to look out the window directly to my left, watching for Anya. She told me she was going to come today. Why would she bother to say that at the planning meeting if she didn’t mean it? Even though I saw her every day in French class this week, I couldn’t bring myself to turn around and ask her. We don’t exist that way to each other in school.

She seems to agree, because she hasn’t said anything either.

Outside of school, though, she’s stuck her neck out for metwice—once at the shop, and again at the planning meeting. There’s no way she’d ghost me now.

Right?

Our front door chimes, and I get a crick in my neck from glancing up so fast. It’s not Anya. It is the least Anya person to ever exist.

Kyle Holtzenberg.

“Daaaaaarce,”he says, holding his hand up for me to high-five. When I reluctantly lift my hand to match it, he pulls his own back. “Too slow! What are you supposed to be? A bird?”

My costume is an exact replica of the spring fairy figurine directly behind me, down to the daisy crown on my head and the butterfly perched on my shoulder. Even without that context, it’ssoobvious that I am a fairy. There is nothing birdlike about what I’m wearing, except for the presence of wings. But they are whimsical, glittery wings. Fairy wings.

“I’m working right now,” I say.

Kyle grips the back of his neck. He’s gotten a fresh haircut, sharp auburn edges that contrast the hundreds of round freckles smattered across his face. “Aw, c’mon. It’s like that now?”

“It’s like that,” I confirm.

“Then I take it you’re not trying to go with me to the FallBall?”

“You’ve taken it correctly.”

“Not even if I promise to get a better-fitting tux this year? My mom said she’ll take me to the mall. My arms have bulked up too much from all the lifting I’ve been doing.” He kisses one of his biceps, flexing it so I can see the muscle definition.

Kyle Holtzenberg and I first dated in sixth grade, when Grace dared us to kiss behind the middle school dumpsters. That exchange has bonded us together in ways that can never be undone, because it’s Fableview, and everything that happens here becomes some kind of unbreakable tradition. As a result, Kylehas been the guy I sort of talk to sometimes. I wouldn’t even call it dating. He’s just alwaysaround, and so am I.

Occasionally, we’re around together.

Last year, gazing up at the sky from my hammock as I so often do, I had my first of many panics about my future. I thought that maybe I’d been wrong to dump Kyle in sixth grade. Maybe Kyle and I reallywereendgame. It made sense on paper, and, well, it’s Fableview. My parents found each other here, and everything else about my life had so far aligned with theirs.

So I let Kyle take me to the Fall Ball. He got me a corsage. I got him a boutonniere. His tie matched my dress. It was all shaping up to be a decent idea on my part. There was no chemistry between us, but he could be funny when he wanted, and I hoped I could grow into our relationship the same way I’d grown into bad haircuts.

Hisparents were ecstatic, and I pretended not to notice all their little comments about the Holtzenbergs finally getting in on my family’s Halloween empire.

All night, Kyle would not stop trying to lift me up over his head. The entire evening, every song, it was his singular focus—to lift me over his head. We tried it at least ten times. It was embarrassing from the very first failed attempt, but Kyle would not relent. He couldn’t let it go, and at a certain point, I became invested in helping him figure it out.

Finally, on the last song of the night, he succeeded.

As he held me up, I admit, the moment was cool. But it was a bittersweet kind of cool. With all our friends gathered around us, sweaty and cheering, gazing up at me as Kyle death-gripped my rib cage, I saw my entire future. Marrying Kyle. Him lifting me up the same way at our wedding. Us owning Pam’s Paintstogether. Taking over the condo from my parents. Running the annual Fableview fall extravaganza.

And it all seemed…fine?