Page 71 of Everything She Does Is Magic

“What a little sweetie.” I turn back to Anya. “What was I saying? Oh yeah, I was telling you I love you.”

“I think you already said it,” she says.

“That doesn’t mean I’mdonesaying it.”

“Well, we should probably continue our proclamations on foot. You’ve got me worried we won’t get enough of the good stuff for Grace.”

We continue trick-or-treating. And it’s so silly, but it’s also the best, getting to do this with her.

This is the magic I’ve never failed to believe in—the kind that only Halloween can bring, innocent and hopeful. A wonder that never goes out of fashion. At least, not in a town like ours. And I know that if I get the chance to leave for college next year, it’s Fableview that’s made me ready. Because that’s what the spirit of this holiday does. It inspires us to try on different lives as often as possible. To have the courage to become someone new.

34

Anya

Mrs.Manalo wraps me in the biggest hug I’ve ever had, tears springing to her eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispers over and over.

I don’t know what story Grace told her—the EpiPen one or the truth. It doesn’t matter. This town would protect me either way, but no one would take more care with that truth than a Manalo. I get the distinct impression that every single one of them would personally fistfight my Uncle Edward if he somehow found out and caused trouble over it.

It’s Maddie who interrupts us, tugging on my cloak to get my attention. She’s dressed again as a manananggal, wearing the wings I mended for her. It’s much gorier this time. The fake blood is all over, and there are pool noodles attached to her that have been painted to look like intestines.

“You’re a witch!” she says, pointing to my hat.

“I am,” I tell her.

“I knew it,” she says.

“Come in, come in.” Mrs.Manalo beckons. “Grace is upstairs in her room. She will be so glad to see you both.”

Maddie attempts to follow us up the stairs, but Mrs.Manalo stops her. Maddie starts to cry, and I turn back. “We’ll come down soon, I promise. Then we can hang out,” I say.

When we get to Grace’s room, she’s under the covers, wearing a green silk pajama set and one of those headbands designed to hold your hair back for makeup. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her face bare, and she looks so young—sheisso young—that it dissolves any last lingering regret I have about breaking my family’s magic. She has so much ahead of her.

“You guys are late,” she says.

“We have a good reason, I promise,” Darcy tells her, handing over our carefully sourced candy bucket.

Grace combs through it like she’s TSA at an airport and this item has been plucked for further examination. She picks out the full-size Starburst, and I expect her to smile, pleased, but she remains stoic. “Very good. Thank you.” She sets the candy bucket on her nightstand, then folds her hands together over her comforter. “Well…” she says expectantly.

I shoot a look at Darcy. Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe we need to wait until Grace feels all the way better. But Darcy’s almost laughing. There’s something here that I don’t understand, haven’t all the way worked out.

I decide to press on, ignoring my rising panic. “How are you feeling?” I ask as a warm-up.

It’s also a valid question. She’s been through quite the ordeal.

Grace doesn’t answer for a long while, locking eyes with me the way she used to when she told me she was watching me. When I was “sinister.” I roll backward through the past fewhours. Have I wronged Darcy? Was it too much when I told Parker Holt to take care of Grace? What has her so upset?

Finally Grace breaks, pointing to the box in my hand.

“Come on!” she says. “I’m waiting for you to ask me! We can do the how-are-yous afterward!”

“You know?” I say, looking again at Darcy, who now has her hands up in surrender.

“I didn’t tell her! You know I’d never do that.”

It’s true. She wouldn’t.