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Andromeda gnaws on her crust of bread for a moment, then sighs. “I promise to do my best to behave appropriately in front of Mrs. Role’s parents for the duration of the Thanksgiving event we have been invited to if this oath is acceptable to my daddy.”
“An excellent oath. I accept it.” He pats the seat next to him, and she pops up fully, swings around, and is bouncing merrily when the food arrives.
After the plates have been situated on the small table, Pollux says, “We’d be honored to join you for the celebration. Are there any protocols or expectations I should be made aware of?”
Right. I forgot. Because your cult doesn’t do holidays, I need to explain the holiday. Hopefully this doesn’t get them in trouble with their “prince.” “Usually, my family just goes around the table during the meal and says something we’re thankful for. That’s about it.”
Just a meal.
With my family.
And two members of a faerie cult.
No big deal.
Twirling a fork in my pasta, I drown myself in the carbs in order to keep from thinking about what I’ve just done.
Chapter 19
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Magic. Isn’t. Real.
After dropping Pollux and Andromeda off at their home, I head back to the school. Whether I’m procrastinating letting my parents know what I’ve done or if what Andromeda said earlier has stuck, I’m not sure.
I shouldn’t even be entertaining the nonsense possibility that faeries are real, but here I am in my office pulling up the backyard camera footage from last night.
“Let’s see how they did it…” I murmur as the video scrolls back.
Playground. Playground. Zahra and me at the playground. Kids on the playground for today’s recess. Playground. Playgr—
Nothing.
My heart thuds.
I pause, bring the feed right up to the moment the playground just appears, and…watch a crackle of static take place before it’s simply there. Rewinding, I watch it. Again and again. I check the hours, make sure no time was lost, I scan the video for any proof of tampering, any small visible motion that cuts out the second the playground appears out of nowhere.
It’s stupid, of course, to think that someone would build me a playground then hack into my cameras to mask the whole event, but I’m grasping for an answer that isn’t Silly Kass, that’s when Cael dropped his faerie barrier, duh.
My eyes narrow on a single leaf blowing in the back corner. The static hits. And…
The little leaf finishes settling.
I swallow, lean back in my chair, and stare at the wall above my monitor. My ironic Hang In There cat poster mocks me, weeping eyes staring feebly from where the little gray thing clings to a tree branch.
I whisper, “Magic isn’t real.”
I stand and repeat the words.
Walking to my car, I get in and drive home and make it up the steps of my parents’ little brick house. I hesitate at the front door, my hand inches from turning the knob. I’m being an idiot. Somehow. Because magic isn’t real. It can’t be real. And if it were real, it wouldn’t include me in its escapades. I’m average. Unassuming. The most interesting thing about me is my wardrobe. Apart from that, I’m just like any other thirty-something stuck at home with her parents because she traded out her dating years in favor of crying over student essays.
Magic isn’t real, but I do need to talk to my parents about the questionable decisions I’ve made this evening.
I push inside. “Mom? Dad?”
“Living room,” Dad calls, so I head there and find my father peering at a sudoku puzzle. Brows raised to the line of his fading red curls, he marks in a number, glances my way above his glasses, and lowers the book. “What’s wrong, Kasserole?”
I’m losing my mind. That’s what’s wrong. I’m going bonkers.
