Page 8 of Practically Magic

One girl covers her eyes, but the other holds up her phone, probably live streaming. “Is it a ghost? Is there a presence with us in this bookstore?”

“Nope!” Laney’s mom reaches into the stacks and pulls out a large gray tabby cat. “It’s just Jinx. There’s a crawl space behind some of the stacks, and he finds it funny to make more work for us.” She rubs the cat behind the ears, and the cat wriggles to get away.

The phone is lowered with a scowl.

Laney leans over and whispers in my ear, “Next time, she should just say it’s witchcraft.”

Fifteen minutes later, the shelving is done, and I can’t stall anymore. By the time we get to the coffee shop, there is a crowd of people waiting to order and pick up drinks. A group of middle schoolers stands off to the side by the hay bales taking selfies. They each have a tiny pumpkin filled with iced coffee, topped with whipped cream, cinnamon, and fall sprinkles. They laugh as they try to squeeze into the picture with their drinks, and I shake off a pang in my chest. Harry and I took a selfie here, after the fiasco with Ryan at the carnival and I puked up all my cotton candy. She cut the POP wristband off my arm, and I stuffed it in my backpack. It’s probably still there, but it reminds me more of her than of him.

I don’t remember the last time my sister and I hung out like that and just talked.

“You don’t need to get anything,” Laney says. “Principal Aceste is right over there.” She points to the familiar form in the corner, cheeks hollowing out as he sucks on a huge pumpkin drink.

My nerves are making my fingers tremble. “I could use some caffeine.”

Laney gives my shaking hands a knowing look. I’m stalling and she knows it, but Colton and his football buddies are over in the corner, kicking around a pumpkin like a soccer ball. The line should take at least ten minutes. These are complicated drinks.

“Katherine Hadley,” a voice calls, and I step forward in confusion to the pickup section. Zach hands me a pumpkin heaped with whipped cream. “Pumpkin spice latte. Extra whip. Extra white chocolate. To go.”

He made me my drink? Did Laney text him? “What?”

“It’s a long line.”

“So?”

“Don’t want you getting bored and setting anything else on fire,” Zach says, cutting his dark eyes at me. I blink, my stomach lurching as I notice some whip caught in his curls. “What?” he asks, eyes softening.

Before I can stop myself, I reach over with a thumb and brush his hair clean. My cheeks burn. Why did I just do that?

“You should wear a hairnet,” I say quickly, trying to sound annoyed.

He only grins back at me, like he’s won an argument. “Wait.”

That same mitt-sized hand lands on my wrist. I freeze as he knocks a shaker over the cloudlike puff of whipped cream, depositing cinnamon. How did he know I wanted that? Before I can say anything, Zach’s brothers are calling him back to manage the line.

When I reach Laney, she’s shaking her head.

“What?” I ask. “He just wants me out of his hair.”

“His hair,” she repeats. “Looks like you were very much in his hair.”

“That’s what I said.”

She laughs again. “Whatever. You’ve both got it bad. I’m just curious who is going to admit their crush first.”

“The only crushing I’m doing on Zach Powell involves my GPA totally defeating his. And I’m sure he feels the same.”

“Then why didn’t you have to pay for your drink?” She leans forward and takes a long sip on the straw. “And why does he know your order?”

I roll my eyes. This is just Zach proving he’s better than me. That he has a near-perfect memory and pays attention, unlike me. That he’s serious and good at his job.

The one good thing about this terrible conversation is it makes me want to actually embarrass myself by sitting down at a table with our high school principal.

“Katherine,” he says, sounding surprised.

“I wanted to, um, apologize for the accident earlier today.”

He frowns. “It may have been an accident, but there was extensive damage.”