Page 11 of Practically Magic

She inspects the minuscule red line. “Does it hurt? That could be a symptom. I’ve never heard of a Hadley needing to bleed, but feeling your magic in your fingers could be possible—”

“It’s a paper cut,” I say, a little sharper than intended. “Just a paper cut.”

It hurts how disappointed they both are.

“Would you like a Band-Aid?” my dad offers. “I’ll get you a Band-Aid.”

I sigh. As my mother looks around, probably trying not to let her crushing disappointment play across her face, I reach for the glass jar of candy corn and candy pumpkins we leave on the counter all fall. By the end of October, there are only candy corn left. I have a thing for the candy pumpkins. I know they’re the exact same candy and, sure, they taste like wax, but I love them. I start fishing out a pumpkin. My fingers close around two at the same time. “Don’t worry. Peter and I have gone over the rituals, and we’re ready for Samhain. I’m going to nail the ritual this year, I promise.”

Peter. As in Parker. My imaginary boyfriend. I’ve never been so happy that my parents hate comics.

“We can’t wait to meet Peter,” Dad says, hustling back into the room with an entire first-aid kit. “Do you think he’ll be free before we leave for Grams and Grampa’s?”

“I don’t know,” I mumble. “He’s got that big science project due. It’s about . . . spiders. He’s big into science. Which is why he’s the perfect person to help me with the Samhain rituals.”

Mom’s lips purse. The woman is a human lie detector, but this time she doesn’t say anything. “I still feel so guilty leaving you to deal with this on Samhain. I know you have your aunts to help you, but this is a big responsibility.” She wrings the kitchen towel in her hands. “You need to have a real . . . connection.” She seems to struggle to find the right word, which is a rarity for the brainiac witch professor that she is. She looks to my dad for help.

He, too, seems a bit unsure. “What your mother is trying to say is we don’t want you feeling pressured to do this. Your aunts are happy to give their husbands a call.”

I’m not sure they remember their numbers, but I’m not saying that.

“Dad’s right, though.” Mom drains a bowl of pasta into a colander in the kitchen island sink, and steam fills the air, fogging her face. “If you and Peter don’t feel ready, Aunt Viv and Aunt Diane can manage. The rituals need to be done by people with a strong bond, and they’ve been married for, um, well, I think it’s been at least a year. A decade?”

“These ones, it was . . . did they have a fall wedding?” my dad asks.

“What we mean to say is you and Peter have only been dating a few months, right? It’s early. No shame in having the aunts step in—”

“I’m ready,” I insist, even if I do need to finalize things with my supposed other half. “I’m not going to let you down. Haven’t I proven myself around the house? Taking out the trash? Trimming the herbs in the greenhouse? I even sang to the Venus flytrap the other day to get it to eat every insect and it listened.”

Mom brightens. “Really? Victor usually only opens up when Harry sings to him.”

I ignore the Harry mention. “Well, Victor and I are besties now. I sang ‘Monster Mash’ to him and he loved it.” I squeeze Mom’s hand. “I am not going to let you down. I know the protection spells by heart, and I’ll follow them exactly that night.” And this I truly mean. “The last thing I want to do is mess up the veil between Mystic Hollow and the supernatural world.”

Mom smiles, her shoulders relaxing. A pot of homemade marinara sauce stirs itself with a large wooden spoon on the stove while she shakes out the pasta noodles. “It’s just such an important night. I feel bad we’ll be with Grampa and Grams.”

“Nic, our daughter’s got it,” Dad says, placing a comforting hand on my right shoulder. “This girl was prepared coming out of the womb. Remember that time I knocked over a candle during our dance lesson in the dining room? This girl was the first one to get to the fire extinguisher.”

I can tell my mom isn’t impressed, though. Because I didn’t use magic.

Just another reason I can’t let her find out about this morning.

Dad beams at me. “Kitty Kat always gets things done.” He looks at me proudly. “You don’t have to worry about her protecting Mystic Hollow.”

My heart warms. “Of course I will! The Halloween party is not going to get in the way of that.” I open the candy jar again and reach for another pumpkin.

Mom’s wooden spoon flies over and swats my wrist. “Kat, we’re about to eat!”

“I have room,” I mumble. “And that hurt.”

“Sorry. But the party, is that still happening?” Mom asks as the napkins next to her leap into her hand. She hands them to me to put on the table. “I haven’t heard you mention it in a while.”

I feel a twinge of panic that she’s suddenly questioning this. “Because everything is already set and I know the rules. We’ll stay on the first floor. I’ll keep people out of the greenhouse and have the whole house cleaned up before midnight.”

Mom’s eyes widen. “Midnight?”

“I meant ten thirty,” I say hastily, feeling the waxy pumpkin get caught in my teeth. “Which leaves plenty of time to do the rituals at the house right before midnight. Laney will help me prep long before moonrise.”

Mom purses her lips and I fear she’s going to say something I will not want to hear, but then her face lights up. “Oh! That’s your sister! She’s about to call!” She stands the iPad up against the pasta bowl. I guess we’re having cold pasta tonight. Because Harry has to call right now. “Everyone, gather round. I think she’s just getting back to her dorm room in three . . . two . . .”