Page 70 of Under Your Spell

‘She’s more of a clear spirits girl,’ I agree.

‘When she’s not drinking the blood of her vanquished enemies.’ Theo’s smile looks slightly haunted.

We throw a couple more logs in the fire pit and thread our marshmallows on metal skewers before sitting down side by side on one of the blankets. It’s gone ten o’clock, and a burnished rose-gold light begins to spill across the sky. My name is scrawled in the sand in front of the fire pit next to Lil’s and Serena’s, all of them held inside the giant heart Lil drew with her fingertips.

‘I cannot believe that last race.’ Theo shakes his head with a wince. ‘I think Lil might have broken a couple of my ribs. How can someone so tiny slam into you like she’s a defensive player for the All Blacks?’

‘I tried to warn you,’ I laugh, while carefully rotating my marshmallow. ‘You should have noticed everyone else was giving her an extremely wide berth.’

‘Honestly, I thought Serena would be the vicious one.’

‘Nope, Lil’s always been a competitive nightmare. She once got suspended from school for breaking another girl’s nose during a hockey match. She said she didn’t do it on purpose, but I don’t know… there’s this red mist that descends.’

‘Henry was loving it, though, wasn’t he?’ Theo smirks. ‘She was busy trying to trip people up – including him – and he looked at her like she was an angel who fell out the sky.’

‘True love,’ I smile.

‘Why is your marshmallow so perfect and mine always look like this?’ Theo grumbles, blowing out the flames that are engulfing his marshmallow, leaving behind a blackened lump.

I examine my own evenly golden, gooey treat. ‘It’s because I am careful and patient, something that you know very little about.’

‘Clemmie, I can be very careful and patient if the occasion calls for it,’ Theo replies, and something low and serious in his tone has me looking up at him. His gaze is steady, open, and it makes my skin heat.

I smile, trying to cover the nervous feeling in my belly. ‘I’m sure. Tell it to the half dozen eggs you broke today.’

Something like disappointment flickers in Theo’s eyes at my response, but he lets it slide, arranging his face in faux outrage. ‘I’m not saying the game was fixed, but did we test Serena’s egg to make sure it hadn’t been boiled? I swear she dropped it once and that thing bounced.’

‘Here,’ I say, handing him the marshmallow. ‘I toasted this one for you anyway.’

‘You did?’

‘Yes, I did, because I know how rubbish you are at cooking them and that you would burn yours, but I also know how much you like eating them, you sugar junkie.’

‘You toasted a marshmallow for me.’ Theo takes the skewer from my hand and just sits, looking at it for a moment.

I laugh, inexplicably nervous. ‘It’s just a marshmallow, Theo.’

‘Mmm.’ He makes a noise like he disagrees but doesn’t want to tell me so.

‘And it’s to say thank you.’ I draw my finger through the sand, not wanting to look at him for some reason. ‘For my best birthday ever.’

There’s a beat. ‘You mean I’m even better than a pink Power Ranger?’ His body relaxes, the easy smile returns.

‘I mean watching Lil rugby-tackle you to the ground then trample over your prone body towards the finish line was even better than meeting a pink Power Ranger.’

‘I knew there was trampling. Having her mother referee was a clear violation of egg-and-spoon-race regulations.’

It feels like we’ve successfully navigated away from something too serious, back to familiar ground. We tease and bicker some more, and Theo eats his marshmallow slowly, like it’s the most delicious thing in the world.

When he’s finished, Theo picks up his guitar, and if you had asked me before this if I could think of anything cringier than a grown man appearing at a camp fire with an acoustic guitar, I’d have been hard pressed to give you an answer. But with Theo it’s not an affectation. Or embarrassing. It’s perfect. Probably because of how talented he is, but also because I realize now that Theo with a guitar in his hand is Theo in his natural state.

He starts to play softly, absently, in the background while we talk. That lovely melody he played for me and Lil first, and then other things, bits of songs I recognize and bits of songs I don’t, all winding in and out of each other. Eventually he plays a tune so familiar to me that I instantly cringe.

‘Oh no, don’t!’ I exclaim.

Theo grins evilly as his guitar twangs those notes that prompted so many hokey, faux-southern childhood performances. The song I couldn’t escape, that chased me down school corridors. The song my mother had cursed me with when she chose my name.

Oh my darlin’, Oh my darlin’, Oh my darrrrrrrlin’ Clementine…