Page 72 of Everything She Does Is Magic

Helpless, I fumble with the box, all my plans thrown off by this development. Grace lets out another sigh, one of her throatiest, most theatrical groans, and opens her nightstand. The two walkies sit side by side. She hands one to me, then keeps the other for herself. “Doyle, this is Manalo. Do you copy?”

“Manalo, this is Doyle. I copy.”

“I figured it out because I’m brilliant. Over,” she says.

When I don’t lift the walkie to my hand, prepared to compliment her in person, she nudges me with her leg under the comforter until I lift the walkie to my mouth. “I see,” I tell her. “I should’ve figured.”

“Yes,” she responds. “Okay, you can put it down now.”

I set the walkie on the edge of her bed, and I hand her the box. She tears it open without ceremony, so fast that I don’t have a chance to tell the story about why I picked it. Not that she needs to hear it anyway. She’s always been ahead of me, so it’s probably right this way.

“A lizard pin!” she says with her usual delight, clapping as she attaches it to her pajamas. “It’s perfect. Great touch.” She winks at Darcy, knowing that bringing a ceremonial gift was heridea.

“Grace,” I say, all my plans out the window. “Will you be my protector?”

She throws the covers off her bed like she’s Charlie’s grandpa in the super super-old version ofWilly Wonka& the Chocolate Factory, ready to skip her way to the candy factory. She even strikes a pose, one hand behind her head, her opposite foot popped out.

“Of course I will,” she says. “Who could do it better?”

“No one,” I tell her. And that’s the truth. There is no one who would look out for me the way Grace Manalo would.

When she’s done posing, she gives me a hug. “Seriously,” she says. “This is a really cool honor. I can’t believe I get to help therealwitches of Fableview. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. Having powers would stress me out, so getting to help other people who have them is exactly the right role for me. Thank you for seeing that.” She pulls back. “And thank you for being my friend.”

“Thank you for beingmyfriend,” I say, insistent. Those pesky tears of mine spring up again.

“Awww,”Grace and Darcy say in unison, squeezing me from either side.

“Let it out, Doyle,” Grace tells me. “It’s healthy.”

No matter what comes next, I know I have them both to lean on. I owe all this to Darcy for giving me a chance. For believing in me when no one else did. And it’s a little bit like magic, really, how one person can come along and change your whole entirelife.

A Few Months Later

35

Darcy

I’m the first to reach the ancient computer we keep in the back office.

“How old is this thing?” Anya asks, watching me boot it up.

“You know, Anya, technology used to have personality,” Dad tells her, coming up beside me to run a finger over the monitor’s teal outer shell, lifting a layer of dust in the process.

I glance back over my shoulder to say, “It’s from 2001.”

This gets a genuine gasp out of Anya.

Mom laughs, setting down a tray of cookies she’s baked for us all. “He talks a big game, but this thing doesn’t have any of its original components other than the monitor. You can’t believe how much he’s spent on keeping it running.”

Dad shrugs. “What can I say? Some old things are worth keeping around.”

Even though this is ridiculous, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I could check my email on my phone, but that’s not the point. The spectacle is the point. And getting on my dad’searly-2000s computer is the only way I’d ever want to find out if any of my chosen colleges have accepted me.

The doorbell chimes.

“That must be Grace,” Anya says, springing up to answer it.

She disappears from the back office, leaving me alone with my parents. “Thank you,” I tell them again, “for letting me dothis.”