Page 97 of Impractical Magic

Chapter 37: The Dork Debate

When Scarlett was fourteen, she had secretly applied to and been accepted at a six-week computer-programing summer camp, hosted on the grounds of a mildly respected university in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The question of whether or not to permit young Scarlett to leave the witches of Oak Haven to walk among the nerds sparked a family argument that dragged on for five days. The Harvard Dork Debate, as Delilah had named it, was one of those endurance-test rows—a multi-hour verbal slugfest where opposing teams would periodically take breaks and return to their corners to steady themselves. It was like one of those marathon games of Risk, where the incomplete board sits on the dining room table for weeks, and friends stop by to offer strategic advice. Except in this case, the ultimate prize wasn’t Kamchatka—it was Scarlett’s life.

The Harvard Dork Debate—with Scarlett and Papa in the Pro-Camp camp, Mama and Luna in the Anti-Camp camp, and Delilah solidly in the Who Cares About Camp camp—was unquestionably the most intense conflict the Melrose family had ever experienced . . . until now. From the moment Scarlett brought her starling idea to her mother and the other witches, it was clear that this Murmuration of Scarletts Debate would make the Harvard Dork Debate look like a mild difference of opinion. It would probably make the Battle of Stalingrad look like a mild difference of opinion.

But Scarlett had history on her side: she’d won the Harvard Dork Debate and by God, she’d win this one too.

***

“Absolutely not!” Mama slammed her teacup down so hard, it sloshed Earl Grey onto the tablecloth. The debate had been raging for some time—this was Mama’s third cup of tea—but her determination hadn’t flagged. “A flock of birds? Have you lost your mind, Scarlett?”

The dining room of the Melrose inn had been transformed into a war room of sorts, with witches crowded around the large oak table. Scarlett stood at the head, her chin lifted defiantly as she faced her mother’s fury.

“As I have said repeatedly, it will be a telepathic murmuration, not just any old flock. And it’s the only way.”

“It’s sheer lunacy!” Delilah chimed in to agree with Mama. But in her eyes, Scarlett thought she saw a flicker of reluctant admiration.

“Scarlett, this is madness. If even one starling doesn’t return, you’ll be trapped forever. I won’t allow it.”

“Luna, tell them.” Scarlett appealed to her baby sister for support; Luna had far more street cred concerning magical decisions than she ever would.

Luna leaned forward, her voice calm but urgent. “Mama, believe me, I understand what you’re saying. But—”

“But?!” Mama repeated. “Oh good grief, Luna! Don’t tell me you support this!”

“—but if we don’t stop the dragonflies, the grove will be destroyed. Starlings seem like the answer, but wild starlings will most assuredly destroy the grove. Scarlett’s plan might be our only hope.”

Mama shook her head. “You don’t understand. I have an entire presentation on the perils of wild animal transformation—I have slides! Let me show you all the slides.”

Scarlett smiled affectionately. Just last night, her mother had been shouting at her. Today, she’s shouting about her. This was better. “I don’t need to see the slides, Mama. I inspired the slides, remember? I’ve lived the slides.”

Lounging in her chair, glass of pinot in hand, Belinda Chatterjee waved dismissively. “Oh, let the kid try. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“The worst that could happen?!” Aphra’s voice quivered with emotion. “We could lose Scarlett forever. No, it’s much, much too dangerous.”

Violet bounced in her seat, eyes wide with excitement. “It’s totally metal! Scarlett, you have to do it!”

Jerusha, one of the elderly witches, cleared her throat. “In my day, we respected the dangers of magic. The young always think they’re invincible. But transformation spells are not to be taken lightly.”

“This is so.” Candace nodded sagely. “But with that being said . . . might we consider that perhaps Miss Luna should perform the spell? I believe she is, well . . . how shall I put this . . .”

Scarlett lifted an eyebrow. “Better at witch shit than Scarlett the screw-up?”

“My word!” The old witch huffed. “I would never use such language!”

“Dear old Candace . . .” Luna patted her hand consolingly. “We all appreciate your wisdom—”

“Speak for yourself,” muttered Scarlett.

“—but Scarlett’s abilities aren’t in question here. After all, she’s the only witch in this room who has successfully performed this spell before.”

“Beginner’s luck!” Mama pounded the table again. “That was just a case of God looking out for drunkards and fools.”

Scarlett made a face. “Thanks, Mama.”

“I don’t want any of my girls participating in this nonsense, no matter how skilled they are.”

“Kelly,” said Jerusha firmly. “You know as well as I that magic demands a price. And the grove must be preserved.”