Page 26 of Everything She Does Is Magic

Ever since Anya arrived in Fableview, she has been alone. I’ve never once seen her hang out with anyone or even hold a conversation with a classmate in the hallway. It seemed to be how she wanted things, considering how she treated me in French class. My heart aches, knowing the truth.

I wish I could see pictures of this Julia. Read her social media posts and pass judgment on her. But Anya is so skittish. Scared and delicate and afraid to trust. The last thing I want to do is overwhelm her by asking too much at once.

I decide to say, “That’s Julia’s loss. You’re my favorite person I’ve met in a really long time. Probably ever.”

This close, I can see Anya’s pupils dilate, zeroing in on my lips. Goose bumps prickle along my arms. My heart feels like it grows three sizes. All I’m doing is painting a hot pink butterfly on Anya’s face, but somehow, I feel completely, totallyalive.

She doesn’t tell me any more about Julia. I paint in silence,each brushstroke another gentle offering to her. A beckoning.Trust me enough to tell me the rest someday.

When I finish her face painting, I hand her the mirror to take a look.

“Oh, I don’t think I want to know,” she tells me, batting the mirror away.

“C’mon! You have to!” I insist. “You look cute!” This time I say it on purpose. It has the same effect on me—that zipping, slippery rush.

She keeps her hand on the mirror.

“I’m really proud of you for applying to a college. I just want you to know that,” she tells me.

I promised myself I would never date someone in Fableview.

Yet here I am, kind of wishing I could.

14 Days Until Halloween

12

Anya

As I cower in Aunt Cal’s old Volkswagen Beetle—an unfortunate shade of notice-me yellow—my parents initiate their weekly video call. Mom’s face crowds the screen, too close to the camera, providing me with an unsolicited tour of her most recent dental work. In the corner, visible only by his shoulder, is mydad.

“We are gettingsoexcited!” Mom says.

It would seem my mom’s magical power is enthusiasm. Really it’s herbalism. In our family, mothers and their firstborn children tend to have complementary powers. It’s true for Mom and me. I am best at mending plants. Mom can grow them under almost any condition. When my dad forgot their anniversary a few years ago, she called me to say she’d grown tomatoes in his pillowcase overnight as payback.

“I’m excited too,” I tell her, lying through my teeth. The closer their visit gets, the closer I come to having to tell everyone I’m choosing not to join the coven.

“Are you in Cal’s car?” Mom asks, spotting the herbs Cal has hanging from her sunroof.

“I’m not driving, though.” I flip the camera around to show the view of Fableview Boulevard from where I’m parked. Even through a screen on an overcast day, the charm is clear. If anything, the flat gray sky accentuates the orange of the leaves sprinkled across the cobblestone. It looks like a memory somehow, something that makes me ache with longing for what used to be, even though it’s right here, right now.

“Just lovely,” Mom says. “I almost chose to live there myself. I’m glad that Cal ended up there.”

When I don’t see my parents, it’s easy to convince myself I don’t need them around. I’ve spent a lot of my life away from them already. But then they’re in front of me, even if it’s only through a screen, and my chest burns at the thought of giving all this up.

An idea comes to me—a last-ditch shot at finding a loophole that could make my initiation work. “Who is Cal’s protector again?” I ask.

Mom leans so close to the phone, I swear it might be inside her mouth. “Oh gosh, I haven’t thought about him in years. Mark…” Her voice trails off, searching for a last name.

My dad chimes in to answer for her. “Blake.”

Like Piper, I realize. The Piper who just returned.

“Ah, got it,” I say, pretending not to recognize the name. My asking these kinds of questions has already sparked way too much intrigue. It’s important I sound bored, like I don’t even know why I’m asking. “What happened with Mark and AuntCal?”

“He broke her heart into about ten thousand pieces,” Mom tells me. “Shattered, I tell you. When he went away to college, he fell in love with another girl. I’m pretty sure that’s who he ended up marrying. He didn’t tell Cal about her until he came back that summer.” Mom squints her eyes. “Why? Did she bring him up?”

“No,” I say quickly. “Aunt Cal isn’t using words to speak rightnow.”