Page 55 of Practically Magic

“Can I say something to you without you getting mad?” Laney asks. Her nose is running and her breath appears as she talks. I’m not sure if the temperature is still dropping from the ice realm or it’s from Eleanor appearing behind her.

“You’re my best friend. You can say anything,” I tell her.

“I’m happy you finally have some boys paying attention to you. Even if it’s just a spell. Really. And you are the smartest, most hardworking person I know, but all this,” she says, looking around at the crumbling house, “is a lot without also having to perform magic tonight. Are you sure you’re up to doing this alone?”

To be honest, the closer it gets to sundown and the rituals, the more nervous I feel. Mom and Dad texted me and Harry this morning reminding us about what herbs to gather, where to place the sigil, what spells to say and when. Harry and I answered separately. The first spell has to be done at moonrise, then the other right before midnight. She raided the dried hydrangeas from the greenhouse, which are the first thing we need to burn, and I’m pretty sure all the ceremonial tapers are missing from our mantel. No matter how mad I am at Harry, the thought of doing this alone still makes me sad. It’s fine, though. There are more hydrangeas in the garden, and I’m pretty sure we have a pack of birthday candles in the junk drawer.

I try to put on a brave face for Laney. “I’m going to be fine. We’re almost done cleaning, so I have plenty of time to gather ingredients for the spell. We’ve got plenty of time.”

There’s a growl in the kitchen, followed by a crash, and Laney and I jump.

“That does not sound like a garden gnome,” Laney whispers.

“It’s not,” Eleanor says. “A creature has entered the ice realm in the kitchen. White. Large. Furry. Lots of teeth. He does not seem to be enticed by the candy bars like those gnomes are.”

Laney and I look at one another. “Yeti.”

“But it’s fine,” Laney says, glaring at me, “because you put a handwritten sign on the door.”

I frown at her. “Should I have printed it out? Would Comic Sans help this situation?” The doorbell rings. “That must be the first of the trick-or-treaters.”

“This is so exciting!” Eleanor exclaims. We both turn to look at her in surprise. “What?” she asks, looking embarrassed. “I died before this holiday really became something fun. A day where everyone celebrates witches. How grand!”

“Just don’t scare anyone,” Laney says, giving Eleanor a sideways look.

“Like I could,” Eleanor says with a grin. “They’ll just assume I’m part of the decorations!”

She isn’t wrong, unfortunately.

I open the door and find a grown man. Laney and I relax a smidgeon. At least Eleanor won’t scare an adult. Plus, he might get a kick out of her clothing; he looks like he’s part of a historical reenactment.

“Greetings,” he says, sweeping the pilgrim hat from his head in a flourish-filled bow. “I seem to have lost my way. Pray tell, which is the road to the great colony of Roanoke?”

“He’s dead,” Eleanor whispers from behind me. “He might not realize it.”

I try to give him my best smile, but when I look him in the eye, I can see the oak tree through him, and that still makes me a little queasy. “Just a moment.” As covertly as I can, I pull out my phone. Will Google have directions to a sixteenth-century colony? As I’m busy checking the directions—better switch to walking because I doubt this guy has Lyft—Laney nudges me. “Twelve o’clock,” she murmurs.

I look down our drive to see Justin Tremble returning. He’s carrying four bags on each arm.

“Hey,” I say weakly as Justin bounds up the steps, the bags swinging. “What are you doing here?”

He grins. “I heard you were throwing a party. And since you mentioned you liked whipped cream, I bought every can I could find. In a three-hour radius.” He leans against the doorframe with the sort of smile that says he thinks this is totally normal and looks at the pilgrim. “Hey. Cool costume, dude.”

“Good tidings,” says the pilgrim with a nod.

My heart is beating fast. One thing at a time, right? That’s how I study for exams, handle my homework. I’m not first in my class—or, at worst, second—for nothing. I turn to the pilgrim. “So you are way too far north. What you want to do is head south and keep going on foot for the next . . .”—I scroll through the directions and gulp—“twenty-two days.”

The pilgrim, however, looks undeterred. “Thank you. Fare thee well,” he tells us both, and turns to go. After consulting the sun, he turns and strides directly into the forest.

Justin frowns. “Is he actually walking?”

“Method acting,” I say quickly, and my rambling explanation is cut off by a loud roar from the kitchen. The door shakes. Justin doesn’t seem to notice. He’s just staring at me with a goofy expression.

“So,” Justin continues, “when does your Halloween party start? I can help you set up. Let me put these in the kitchen—”

“No!” Laney and I cry at the same time. I drag him away from the door. So apparently those Do Not Enter signs are not as effective as I was hoping. “We were, um, just cleaning the living room. Maybe you can help Laney finish.”

Laney gives me a look. “Why doesn’t he help Kat finish?”