Page 73 of Everything She Does Is Magic

Mom kisses my forehead. “You did this on your own. You deserve the credit.”

“Our brilliant baby girl,” Dad adds.

“No matter what happens, we’re really proud of you.” Mom switches to hugging me sideways, in the same spot she always takes when we’re on the couch.

“We’re the proudest that two parents could ever be,” Dad says.

It wouldn’t be a moment with them without this kind of talk. I don’t even mind it. If I’m honest, I might have set them up for it, needing one last boost before everything changes in a permanent way. Before college becomes not just a dream but a reality.

When Anya returns, Grace is with her, carrying a handful of balloons. “I know we don’t know for sure, but let’s call this wishful thinking,” she says in explanation. “And we can pop them if you don’t get in. It will be really satisfying. I brought baseball bats too, in case we want to break stuff.”

Grace has decided she doesn’t want to go to college. I admire her for it the same way I admire everything else about her. She loves Fableview the way my parents do, and she doesn’t have any interest in seeing what’s outside of this place, not even when I’ve pleaded with her to look at some of the schools I’ve applied to. She knows herself. She always has. And that’s why she’s my best friend.

With all my loved ones gathered together, my nerves kick into high gear. I might fail in front of them. All the struggle—the fights and the back-and-forth that got me to this place—may have been for nothing. I might be destined to be a Fableview lifer after all.

I sit in front of the monitor and go over the game plan. “I’m gonna start with my top choice,” I say. “If it’s bad news, we’re not dwelling, okay? We still have four more to check. And if I get denied from all five, we’re stomping on the balloons Grace brought.”

“Exactly,” she says solemnly.

It takes a second to navigate the login, my hands shaking so hard that I can’t get my password right.

Everyone arcs around me. Anya puts a supportive hand on my shoulder. Her touch, so assured, gives me an unexpected wave of confidence. Maybe it’s her magic. Her healing. Or maybe it’s just her, the way she can slow down my racing mind, holding me to the present as only she can. It gets so quiet that every click I make echoes, sharp and loud as a stapler on paper.

And then I see it.

One word.

Congratulations!

“You did it,” Anya says softly, right as Grace screams. She pops off a confetti cannon. My parents erupt in applause.

It’s Anya I hold first, wrapping my arms around her and resting my head against her shoulder. “I knew it,” she’s telling me. “I’m so proud of you.”

And shedidknow it. Through every wavering doubt, she’s been there with encouragement. In exchange, I’ve been helping her understand the other side of her magic. Now that she’san official member of her coven, she’s finally told everyone in her family about her new ability to “unmend” things, as she likes tosay.

They’ve been excited by the development. Thrilled to learn that magic can evolve the same way everything else does. She and I have both shattered our old lives into a thousand pieces together, and now here we stand in what we’ve built atop them.

“I’m going to college,” I say. The giddiness kicks in.

Grace and I spin each other. “You’re going to college, bitch!” she says. Then she remembers my parents are in the room, and she gives them the same speech she once gave Anya, about how “bitch” is a term of endearment.

Unlike Anya, my parents need to hear it. They nod along, confused but forced to accept it. Then they smother me in kisses and hugs and tears. We return to the computer, where I check the other schools. I get into two more, wait-listed for one, and rejected from the last, but it doesn’t dim the shine of this. Nothing could.

When we exit the office, another surprise awaits. The shop is filled with people—Piper, Kyle. The Doyles. The owners of the shops along the street. Our Fableview Fall Planning Committee.

They cheer as I walk through. I turn to my parents, expecting to find that they’re responsible for this. But they point to Anya.

“What if I hadn’t gotten into any of them?” I ask.

“Impossible,” she says, grinning as she squeezes my hand. “But we’d have had a rage party instead. Grace really did bring bats.” Then she looks out over the crowd. “I hope this is a good group. I handpicked who got invited.”

“It’s perfect,” I tell her.

My parents take out the mic we use for our biggest events, encouraging me to give an impromptu speech. Unprepared, I attempt to give my thanks. Somehow it evolves into this sobbing, impassioned speech about everything Fableview has given me. How much I’m going to miss this place next year. How nowhere else can ever compare.

When I’m done, there isn’t a dry eye in the house. Not my mom. Not Anya. Not even Aunt Cal, who has been the hardest one to crack in a town full of particularly tough nuts.

I shove the mic back into my dad’s hand, afraid I’ve brought the mood down with my dramatic speech. “Tell them something happy,” I say. “Please.”