Page 53 of Everything She Does Is Magic

“Ew,”I say involuntarily, chucking a piece of cold popcorn at him.

He puts his hands up. “Hey now, I’m just doing my dad duty.”

“Honestly, we’re relieved you’re not still trying to hang out with Kyle Holtzenberg,” Mom whispers, as if Kathy might have followed her up the stairs.

“You guys are the ones letting the Holtzenbergs do the carnival,” I remind them, pivoting us away from talk of Anya. Notbecause I wouldn’t tell them. This night of grounding has been unexpectedly nice. But there are still so many complicated feelings swirling around in my head and my heart. Talking about it with my parents before I talk about it with Anya doesn’t sit right.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” Mom agrees. “But we wanted you to know we’re serious about being here for you. And it’s too late now to stop Kathy. She’s probably driving seventy down the boulevard, laughing the whole way.”

When we finally continue the movie, Mom and Dad make it about thirty minutes before they’re asleep.

I could say I’d rather be at the carnival, but this moment is so sweet, so typical yet so endearing, that I really am glad they’ve grounded me. Because now that I’m officially allowed to apply for colleges, I know for certain that I’ll be leaving them soon.

Next October, I’ll be living in a dorm on a campus somewhere far from here. There will be no Halloween movie marathons with me wedged between them as they snooze.

So for now, I’m exactly where I want to be.

26

Anya

We walk between stalks of corn higher than our heads. Grace swears this winding dirt path will lead us where we need to go, but the inky night provides little assistance. It’s hard not to get spooked by the way the corn rustles and sways in random, unpredictable intervals, no connection to the wind or anything we can see.

I expect Grace to be skittish too, but she’s hard-eyed and ready, hands tucked under the gigantic backpack she’s put on for the occasion. She’s dressed in all black. No costume in sight.The most serious person in the world, I think.

She pulls a walkie-talkie out of a side pocket and hands it to me, then takes out another and talks into it. “Doyle, this is Manalo, over and out.”

“We’re standing side by side.”

“Doyle. Please. Whimsy,” she says, still using the walkie. “Don’t ruin this with your cynicism.”

I lift the walkie-talkie to my mouth. “It scares me that you’re starting to make sense.”

“There’s nothing worse than robbing yourself of joy because you think you need to be seen as unaffected.”

Feeling brave or maybe even playful, I set the walkie-talkie on the ground to take a lunging step forward, bringing my arms up straight into the air, my shoulders pressed against my ears. “How’sthisfor joyful?”

I attempt my first cartwheel in years. Blood rushes through me like a glitter-fueled rain stick, sloshing back and forth. When I try to land, my feet aren’t quite ready for the ground. I end up flopping onto my butt, the dry earth providing me no cushion.

“Excellent,” Grace says, still determined—treating this like a full-scale mission—but also impressed. “I didn’t know you had that in you.”

I catch myself smiling, a little bit proud of myself in spite of the failed landing. “One of my older cousins made me learn basic tumbling when I lived with her.”

“For, like, magical reasons?”

“No. She just wanted someone to watch her do flips all day, and I was the one who was around.”

“Nice. By the way, I have some minor bad news,” Grace says.

I brush the dirt off my butt and pick up my walkie. “You let me do a cartwheel before you told me there’s bad news?”

“I’d do it again if you wanted to try a handstand.”

I stare at her.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen one of those particular glares.Memories.”

“Please tell me the bad news.”