Page 43 of Everything She Does Is Magic

For the first time, I don’t feel like talking Grace out of it, warning her of the future hurts. The inevitable pain. It’s nice to live in the right now.

We talk until our voices are hoarse. And then we keep talking, long pauses for each of us when we accidentally fall asleep. Finally, at some ungodly hour, Grace is openly snoring, and I end the call.

I look at the picture of Anya and me atop her aunt’s Volkswagen.Who can we become to each other?I wonder, zooming in on different parts of the image as if it might have the answer. But it doesn’t. It just is, perfect and fleeting and totally foreign.

Finally, I think with a little smile.I can paint her. My witch.

10 Days Until Halloween

20

Anya

The Keller family arrives at 6:23p.m., knocking three times on the front door. “Hello! We’re here!” Mr.Keller calls out.

My parents are upstairs, still getting ready. Aunt Cal looks at the clock on the wall, studying the time as if it might move faster with her attention on it. “We set a time because we meant it,” she says.

“They’re only seven minutes early,” I say.

“And seven minutes can be a very long time, depending on the circumstances.”

“We brought cupcakes!” Mrs.Keller announces.

Aunt Cal lets out a long, theatrical grunt.

When she doesn’t move, I stand up. My whole face burns, nerves and embarrassment fighting a winless war inside me as I make the long processional to the front door.

There are animal bones atop Aunt Cal’s mantel, long-dead pets of hers that she took to a taxidermist to be cleaned by dermestid beetles, now forever immortalized in various strange,skeletal positions. She has a cat standing on its hind legs, batting at an imaginary fly. A snake positioned as if ready to bite. A ferret mid-growl. The entryway wall is covered with moths pinned by their wings, captured inside shadow boxes, mixed in with portraits of our dead relatives and moody renderings of the Cailleach, an old crone known in Irish mythology to rule over the winter months.

The Kellers love Halloween in thecandy corn hatand fake spiderweb draped across a bushkind of way. It’s never creepy in their version of Fableview. Aunt Cal’s house feels like a mausoleum, in contrast. A tribute to the dead, or “life after life,” as she likes to say.

Never has the contrast been clearer than when the Kellers file inside one by one. Mr.Keller has opted to wear a pumpkin tie atop a bright orange button-down, carrying cupcakes frosted in the same shade. Mrs.Keller is wearing a white turtleneck with a purple sleeveless vest over it, tiny bedsheet ghosts sewn on to match her ghost earrings. They look like comic book characters trapped inside the wrong story, wandering a haunted house when they’re meant to be tossing out lollipops from a parade float.

Darcy comes in last, holding a jug of apple cider and wearing an apologetic grin. She has on a short, flowy dress in a lovely shade of lilac, with a V-cut neckline that emphasizes her double-chain gold necklace. It’s a crescent moon and a star, one layer resting near the hollow of her throat and the other hovering above the top seam of the dress, daring my eyes to look lower.

“Sorry we’re early.” She’s close enough that I can smell her lotion, buttery sweet and irresistible. “I tried to get them to wait in the car.”

“I’m not personally offended, but I can’t speak for my aunt,” I say back.

Darcy gives my hand one quick squeeze. My face betrays my cool, showing all my breathless excitement. “It’s okay. You can smile.”

My cheeks pull back on her command. “So long as you don’t tell anyone at school I’m capable of it.”

“I’d never.” She leans in close. “But can I tell them you’re a witch? I forgot to ask that last night. Grace already thinks youare.”

“Of course she does,” I say. “For now, though, let’s keep it between you and me.”

Because I won’t be a witch much longer.I push the thought away.

Aunt Cal swoops into the front room, where we’ve gathered. Her patchwork jacket trails behind her. Instead of delivering her own greeting, she waits for the Kellers to announce themselves, not responding until Darcy apologizes for their early arrival.

“We’re so sorry we’re early,” she says.

Aunt Cal gives her a curt nod. Then she turns around, heading toward the dining room, the long, dramatic swoop of her jacket seeming to say,Follow if you must.

My parents come down the stairs and exchange hellos with the Kellers, giving hugs and talking about general Fableview chatter. Darcy and I immediately sequester ourselves, sitting down side by side at the long dining table.

Darcy places her hand atop my leg under the table. I lean in to her. Another game for us to play. How many ways can we touch each other without anyone noticing?