Page 15 of Everything She Does Is Magic

Who else could take over this shop but me? Who else could look down at these broken pieces and know they need to be reassembled?

No one.

No matter what happens with the college I applied to, I have to stay in Fableview.

Maybe the changes Anya and I are going to make around here can be for the future me. The owner of Pam’s Paints me. At least then I can make sure that I’m around to fix anything that might break.

I can keep our town’s magic alive.

8

Anya

Aunt Cal’s presence is the equivalent of an ant on a sandwich, trudging along with unbroken determination. Everywhere I go, she follows, chasing my actions without speaking words.

She has the magical power of foresight. It’s not as much of a benefit as one might hope, especially because of its unpredictable nature. She can see the future. She just can’t always controlwhatfuture she sees. Or when she sees it. Which is why she’s decided to give up speaking, believing that the loss of one sense will heighten this other one. It’s something one of her mentors had her try when she was still an apprentice, as I am. She’s gotten very into using eggs as scribes, dropping them into water and watching the way the yolk splays, using that as an additional divination device to aid her visions.

It’salsowhy she got that far-off look this afternoon when I told her I was heading out to the costume parade. She made a wait-for-me gesture with her hands, then proceeded to spend another hour doing random things around the house, makingme arrive at Pam’s Paints much later than I planned. If only I could justsaythis to Darcy, who’s holding back tears over the ceramics she’s just shattered. But Darcy doesn’t believe in real witches in the first place, and Cal is listening to my every word, so all I can manage is a “Sorry I’m late. Here, let me help.”

“I didn’t even notice.” Darcy blocks my hand from grabbing the broom tucked into a corner behind her. “And I’ve got it, thanks.” Something jagged in her tone, as broken as the ceramics on the floor, tells me shedidnotice. And she cared.

My chest already aches seeing her this way—distraught over what’s been broken. She keeps looking away as she wipes her tears.

I glance over my shoulder at Cal, who is holding up one of the shop’s many witch figurines and examining it with an uncensored grimace. If Aunt Cal would speak, she’d surely say something along the lines of “Purple striped socks?Please.”

“My aunt wouldn’t let me leave sooner,” I whisper to Darcy. “She hates being early. She thinks it’s embarrassing. I’m really sorry.”

Darcy doesn’t quite smile, but she’s less despairing. “It’s okay.” She wipes another tear. “I made some cards I thought we could pass out. I just need to finish sweeping this up first. I’m sure I can glue everything back together later.”

The ceramics aren’t in pieces—they are inshards. The sharp, pointy, dusty kind. Glue doesn’t stand a chance against this kind of destruction. But what good would it be to point that out when Darcy’s so visibly upset?

“Let me help,” I say again, softer.

This time she hands me the dustpan and starts dutifully sweeping the last pieces inside.

“I can’t get cut,” the young guy in the shop tells us. “Blood makes me faint.”

I know him from gym class, I realize. Kyle Something.

KyleHoltzenberg.

Darcy mentioned the Holtzenbergs when we stood together on Fableview Boulevard. The way she’d said their last name made them sound annoying. She painted an effective picture, because if Kyle’s gym-class-hero behavior is anything to go off of, he definitely lives up to that legacy.

Whispering so as to intentionally exclude Kyle, I tell Darcy, “We don’t have to pass out the cards if you’re not up for it.”

“Of course I’m up for it.” There it is again, that challenge. The need to prove something to me that’s already been proven.

“My aunt will be tagging along,” I say, trying to communicate with my eyes that I know this is weird and I am very sorry, but it cannot be avoided.

This is Aunt Cal’s version of mentorship—lurking.

“Cool,” Darcy says. She looks to Cal and waves at her. “Nice to officially meet you. I’m Darcy. I’ve seen you around Fableview, of course. I love your quilt coat.”

Aunt Cal only smiles in response. Not a very friendly one either. It’s a worst-case-scenario response, and there is no apologizing for it or explaining her vow of silence.

“Let me just drop this off in the supply closet. Then I’ll run up and grab one of my parents to watch the shop,” Darcy says.

Once Darcy gets upstairs, it’s just me, Cal, and Kyle Holtzenberg inside Pam’s Paints.