Page 21 of Everything She Does Is Magic

“I love the pumpkin patch party,” she says.

“What exactly makes it a party?”

Darcy laughs. She appreciates my dry observations, which is why I’ve started making them more. Just to keep winning at my own contest. And to be considerate of her feelings. She likes to laugh, and I seem to be able to provide that for her. It’s the least I can do for the kindness she’s shown me.

“I guess it’s not really. Although, anything can be a party if you believe hard enough,” she says. “This is just an excuse to pick pumpkins. Every event in Fableview has a fun official name that’s long and silly. That’s one thing Iwouldn’tchange.”

“Are you sure? It’s tough to tell people I’m at the”—I glance at the sign overhead—“Playfully Picturesque Pumpkin Patch Party.What with the reputation I’ve gained for being brooding and mysterious.”

“Grace told you,” Darcy says, scandalized.

“She did,” I say.

“Please don’t let her get to you. Grace has a knack for…exaggerating.”

“She’s correct, though. Nobody knows me. And I’m usually melancholic. Though hopefully I won’t destroy her life like Parker Holt did.”

Darcy glances over her shoulder. “Pleasedon’t say their name. They’re like Beetlejuice. Three mentions and they really do appear.”

We pass Kyle Holtzenberg participating in what looks to be some form of pumpkin bowling. He clocks me, and I clock him right back, remembering what he said in the shop about how he and Darcy were “kind of dating.” He doesn’t look worried that Darcy’s holding my hand, which sparks my competitive energy. I don’t know if heshouldbe worried—I have no idea if Darcy isn’t straight—but it would be nice for Kyle to know the world doesn’t revolve around his appeal.

We arrive at the Pam’s Paints booth, currently guarded by nothing more than a sign that saysBe Right Back.It’s charming but strange, the amount of trust everyone has around here. I’d say I want to learn how to adopt it for myself, but Kyle’s probably pocketed at least three handcrafted figurines in Darcy’s absence.

When I’m mortal, I will still lock my doors at night.

“Your parents really won’t see this?” I ask Darcy, gesturing to the face paint supplies.

“They usually stay inside the barn the whole time,” she says. “They’re kind of like the mayors of Halloween here.”

“I’ve picked up on that.”

“Yeah.”She’s careful not to put too much friction into it, but there’s still just enough unrest there to let me know she’s annoyed. “I end up doing a lot of the actual day-to-day work for all our events because they’re so busy overseeing the big picture. Which I guess is what I’ll be doing next year. Although, knowing them, they’ll still be doing it with me. But for now, they won’t have any idea I’m the secret face painter. Unless they recognize my handiwork. In which case, I’ll apologize when they tell me how disappointed they are, and I will do a better job of hiding my artistic flair next time.”

“You know, you deserve whatever it is you want out of life,” I say. “Even if it’snotto be the next Halloween mayor of Fableview.”

Darcy fumbles her face painting brushes, flustered. “You’re very kind for someone who completely ignored me the first two times I ever tried talking to you.”

I’ve hoped for many things when it comes to Darcy Keller, but few have been stronger than my hope that she didn’t remember those moments. That gazing into her eyes, smelling the cloud of strawberry-and-vanilla perfume as she’d whipped her head around to face me, I’d lost my ability to do even the bare minimum level of speaking.

“I’m really sorry,” I tell her.

“Was I rude to you or something?”

“No,” I hurry out. “I just get shy around pretty girls.”

Now it’smyturn to fumble. The truth’s fallen out without any consideration for my audience—the pretty girl who makesme shy. I’m folding inside myself, hoping to become so small and insignificant, she forgets to notice I’m here. Maybe even forgets my existence at all.

“Oh” is all she says, worsening the effect.

A hollow silence falls over the tent. Never in my life did I think I’d be grateful for the presence of Kyle Holtzenberg, but when he struts up to the tent, yelling,“Daaaaaaaarce,”it is a balm to my blackened soul.

He’s accompanied by another classmate of ours. She was in my math class last year, and she’s a part of Darcy’s social circle when she’s around, which isn’t all that often.

“Piper! Welcome back,” Darcy says, springing up to hug her, completely ignoring Kyle. And also me. Lots of ignoring going on around this tent.

There it is. Piper Blake.

Her hair is as red as Julia’s, though it’s not curly, so there’s no chance she was the person I saw earlier. Piper’s is pulled back into a thick braid, round-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. The tiny pumpkin embroidered on her collared shirt matches the one stitched into the front pocket of her dark green corduroy pants. Where Darcy and Grace’s passion for dressing on theme is loud and bright, Piper’s seems as tidy and contained as she is.