Page 67 of Everything She Does Is Magic

It’s strange enough that even Anya stops moving. “What was that about?”

I want to say something like “You know Grace,” but this isn’t like Grace at all. Grace doesn’t walk away from things without explanation. She likes to talk more than anyone I know, make a big splashy scene of an exit wherever she can.

Anya senses this too, and we both leave the dance floor.

The hallway outside the gym is empty. Only a few lights are on, just enough to make sure it’s not pitch-dark. The moonlight does more heavy lifting, turning everything from the lockers to the linoleum into the dusty navy of night.

“Grace!” I call out, spotting her near the now-unattended sign-in table.

She doesn’t turn back. She keeps walking, but her pace slows, until suddenly, she stops, slumping to the ground.

“Almonds,” Anya and I say in unison, running to Grace.

Her lips have already swelled to double their size, and her eyes are glossy and bright. A million thoughts crowd my head. She carries an EpiPen in her purse. That must be what she came into the hallway to get. The baggage check is just beyond the sign-in table.

“Which bag did you bring?” I ask.

She points toward the closet where they’ve stored the bags and jackets, misunderstanding my question. There’s no time to overthink. I’m sure whatever bag Grace has brought will be immediately identifiable as hers. I’ll have to use my best friend intuition to figure it out.

Except the closet is locked.

“I think I can break it,” Anya says. She puts her hands over the lock, closing her eyes in the way I now recognize as magical. The lock melts under her touch, returning to the liquid version of whatever metal formed it. There’s no time to ask her how she’s undone it or wonder about this development.

There’s no time for anything.

I leap inside, tearing through piles of coats and purses, searching for one that looks like Grace’s.I’m taking too long, I think, my panic increasing. I need to be calmer.

Anya joins me, plucking through the piles I’ve haphazardly created. “It probably has a reptile on it,” she says. “She has a snake clip in her hair tonight.”

She’s right. She’s always right.

“Good call.”

It narrows our search, hones our focus. “Go back and keep an eye on Grace,” I say. “I’ll keep looking.”

I don’t know how long I search or how much time passes. How much time we have at all. Grace hasn’t had a severe reaction since we were really young. I’m fighting not to recall the horrible way she gasped for breath, writhing on the ground as our third-grade teacher stabbed her leg with an EpiPen. Weeks later we found out that Joey Longardi had snuck an almond into Grace’s lunch “just to see what would happen.”

As soon as I find this pen, I will have to channel my bravery instead of crumbling under the pressure and fear. It’s what Grace would do for me. She’d jab a million EpiPens into my leg if necessary.

There are too many bags and coats in here. Or maybe my mind is too scattered. A better use of my time would be to alert an adult. Call 911. Every second is precious.

When I return to the front hall, Grace is still slumped over, and Anya’s right beside her, kneeling. “Grace, please. Stay with me. It’ll just be a second. Please.”

For the first time, I understand Julia. How she’d asked Anya to heal her grandfather. Anya had told her she couldn’t. That’s not what her magic is for.

I could never ask her that. We have medicine for this. We just have to get it.

I run past the two of them to go back into the gym for an adult, or a phone. Anything. My heels clank against the ground so hard that it shakes my teeth.

Suddenly Grace lets out a loud, gasping breath, stopping me in my tracks. I look back, afraid this is one of those last-breath-of-life things. But Grace is sitting up. Groggy, but alert.

“I didn’t fix it all the way,” Anya whispers.

Everything is so frantic that it takes me a second to understand.

She’s used her magic.

“We still need to call an ambulance. Her airways should be open enough for her to make it to a hospital.” She brushes Grace’s hair off her forehead. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”