Page 48 of The Magic We Made

Still, I don’t want to seem ungrateful—I know Bella sacrificed her hair last night, too, in order to attract Hecate’s bounty.

But I wish we’d manifested some tents, or at least warmer coats, since I’m still freezing. Today the only place it’s warm is in the sun, but we’re hardly ever in the sun because of all the trees. So my fingers are basically frozen as I dig.

But when I mention this out loud, as a sort of joke, Haley snaps, “You should be grateful for the cold, Emma. It means Samhain is coming, and with it, the rise of the darker half of the year, over which Hecate rules.”

“I am grateful for the cold,” I tell her. “And for all of the gifts Hecate has brought us.”

But I don’t know how long I’ll be able to last out here without a tent, or at least some gloves.

I know I’m not the only one who feels this way, because Trina is digging alongside me today. She just saw me struggling with my spade because of my numb fingers, and she asked if I was all right.

“No,” I say. “I’m grateful for the boat. I really am. But I wish Hecate had blessed us with a tent, too. And maybe handwarmers like I used to have when we went skiing in Breckenridge. And my Uggs. I really miss my Uggs.”

Trina nods. “I miss mine, too. Is there someone from home you could call and ask to drop off your Uggs?”

I look at her like she’s crazy. “How?” I whisper. “Haley made us leave our phones behind. She said we can’t call our families anymore because she’s our family now.”

“I know.” Trina is digging hard. The cold doesn’t seem to bother her. “But some of us have families back home who need us. My mom only has me and my siblings to take care of her. I don’t want her to worry about me, so I’ve been keeping in touch.” When I stare at her in absolute shock, shegives a little laugh. “Oh, come on,” she says. “What kind of mother goddess is going to punish me for being nice to my own mom?”

“Ladies.” Haley’s voice rings out. She’s making her rounds, checking to make sure we’re all working. Meg’s desertion has spooked her, I think. It’s spooked all of us. “More digging, less chatting, please.”

I dig harder, but a part of me can’t stop thinking about what Trina said. My mind has been moving sluggishly lately because I’m so hungry, and probably because of the cold, too. But even in my current state, I can see that Trina is right.

“A nurturer like Hecate wouldn’t punish you at all,” I whisper when I can’t see Haley anymore. “But how do you keep in touch with your mom?”

“I have a second phone,” Trina whispers back. “The one I gave to Haley was my work phone. I kept my personal phone. I charge it off her generator when she’s not looking. Do you want to borrow it? You’d have to be careful not to get caught but you could at least call your mom and let her know you’re okay.”

I feel hope for the first time since we discovered Meg and the boat were missing. Even waking up to find Hecate had gifted us with a new boat didn’t make my heart swoop the way Trina’s admission that she still has a phone does.

“Can I borrow it?” I ask, eagerly. “I’ll only call my mo—”

“Trina.” Haley is standing right behind us, and she doesn’t look—or sound—happy. “Come with me, please.”

Frankie

“Zia Frankie is here! Zia is here!”

That’s the cry I’m greeted with when I walk through the doors to the Brewport. My nieces are over the moon to see me at an event that’s outside of Nonna’s house, which I’m embarrassed to realize is basically the only place they’ve seen me lately, aside from various recitals and gymnastics events I’ve attended at their school.

I’m a big enough person to admit I might need to be a little less negative and get out more... and also I might have been wrong about engagement parties. They aren’t societally necessary anymore, but they don’t have to be pretentious drags, like mine was thanks to Richard’s mother, who hosted ours at the stuffy West Harbor Yacht Club.

Dina has made a much better choice in hosting hers for Jessica and Derrick at the Brewport. A large, family-style restaurant overlooking Long Island Sound, the Brewport’s not the ritziest place. It has too many flat-screen TVs on the walls, broadcasting various sporting events.

But it’s in an excellent location, popular with West Harbor’s boaters, Summer People, and witches alike.

Everyone seems to be having a great time, especially my nieces, who immediately grab my hand and drag me out to the back deck, where a local band—made up of high school girls, including the ones Jessica is mentoring, Esther and her best friend, Gabby—is playing.

Witch Riot—the name of the band—isn’t great. Rainbow-haired Gabby is trying to sing and play the guitar at the same time, which appears to be a challenge for her, while Esther bangs the drums like someone who has no idea what she’s doing but is enjoying herself immensely.

Still, there’s something oddly appealing about their music. What they lack in talent they make up for with good vibes, and Gabby’s voice is undeniably pleasant to the ear. And since most of what they play has a beat, it’s fun to dance to—unlike the dirges played by the string quartet my ex-mother-in-law insisted on hiring for my own engagement party.

And by hiring Witch Riot—a tongue-in-cheek reference to the Internet-famous #WestHarborWitchRiot—Dina has made Jessica happy, since she loves mentoring those kids. Although everyone knows Jessica’sgreatestjoy is helping women to find a dress that looks really, really good on them. I start getting compliments on the one she chose for me right away.

“That dress isfire,” Rochelle walks up to tell me the second my nieces allow me to step off the dance floor to get something to drink.

“Thanks. It’s a Jessica Gold.”

“Oh, well, that explains it. I thought you weren’t coming to this.”