Page 65 of Everything She Does Is Magic

The laughter turns to intrigue, everyone murmuring a version of “What’s going on?”

Whatisgoing on? I wonder too.

“Anya,” Darcy says, drawing my attention back. Just hearingher say my name out loud in front of our class makes a fizzy, bright feeling rise inside me like a shaken soda can. “You’ve been here long enough to know we have a lot of silly traditions in our town. And one of them is that you’re supposed to ask people to the Fall Ball in public. I’m sure you’ve witnessed it around school. So you might have an idea of what’s going on right now.”

I’m distantly aware of the way my classmates begin to shift. Heads darting sideways to make eye contact with their friends, understanding dawning over the collective.

Darcy Keller is asking me to the dance. Inpublic.

“I used to say I’d never date anyone in Fableview,” she says, addressing our classmates like she’d address the painters at her parents’ shop or the committee members at the planning meetings. No one is better in front of a crowd than her. Confident and sure, even about this. “And I really believed it.”

She shifts her gaze, no longer looking at our classmates.

She’s looking at me.

“Until you came along,” she says.

Madame Poncik leans back in her computer chair, and the chair lets out a long, loud groan. It’s the perfect tension breaker. Everyone laughs.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says, whispering. “Keep going.”

Darcy takes this chance to walk to my desk, setting the bouquet of flowers atop it. Then she kneels, not on one knee but two, so she’s right beside me.

“Anya Doyle, would you go to the Fall Ball with me?”

“Say yes!” Derek calls out, gaining more laughs. Then, like he’s expecting trouble from Madame Poncik, he adds, “Say oui!”

It doesn’t matter. None of this matters. The whole class could get up and do a dance right now, and I wouldn’t care.

“Yes,” I tell Darcy, fighting the rise of happy tears. “Of course I will.”

I move to hug her, but she doesn’t settle for that. She kisses me here, in front of our entire French class. The applause is thunderous, the same as my heart, wild and pounding and joyful.

1 Day Until Halloween

31

Darcy

The school gym has been transformed. The whole space is washed in a violet glow, with a black tarp covering the walls usually lined with gym class accomplishments and Fableview sports champions. In front of the tarp are cardboard cutout paintings of iconic locations around town. The shops along the boulevard. The apple orchard. The pumpkin farm. The Fall Ball is the one event of the season that isn’t open to just anyone. You need an invite from a local to gain entry. The ball is for all ages, but it tends to be most popular with those of us in high school, though our mayor always attends, as well as some of the most spirited Fableview lifers, like my parents. Even though this is our home, it feels right to dance inside a re-creation of it, like this is our only real chance to celebrate ourselves.

This Fall Ball is the one event where the locals are the tourists.

“My parents and I painted those,” I whisper into Anya’s ear. She’s wearing a long black dress that hugs her body all the wayto the floor. Sleek and elegant, just like her, with a black velvet choker around her neck and dark lipstick on her smart mouth.

“They’re perfect,” she says. “You got the twinkle lights just right.”

Somehow she always knows which pieces of art are mine. The lights had taken me weeks to perfect. I obsessed over how much to suffuse them, wanting the street in front of our shop to be perfectly buttery.

“It looks cozy. That’s how I know they came from you,” she explains, giving me her knowing smirk.

No one’s ever described my art as cozy before, but she’s right. In everything I create, I’m always looking to capture the comfort of the image. The charm. Even my witch-and-basset-hound painting, which my parents have finally let me teach. I wanted it to have a sense of whimsy but also to capture the safety of Fableview, the gentle hug that is my home.

There are round tables scattered around the dance floor, with a DJ booth up front. Grace waves us over. She’s in a dazzling sequined gown that she wouldn’t show me beforehand. She told me it was going to be a simple look, and she didn’t need to run it by me.

I should have known to expect something jaw-dropping.

Naturally, the disco ball is battling her for the title of the sparkliest thing in the room. She’s done her long black hair in waving curls, and there are crystal gems on either side of her face. What she meant is that she doesn’t look exaggerated. This isn’t a silly Grace Halloween costume or an outlandish, campy ensemble. It’s stunning, old-Hollywood-style glamour.