Page 19 of Practically Magic

“No. Of course not.” Principal Aceste’s cheeks redden. “Have fun.”

7

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New post from Mystic Hollow PTO: Apparently reports of the chemistry lab being destroyed were exaggerated. The lab is fine! And thanks to an anonymous donation, the science department has money to buy brand-new lab equipment.

“Tell the truth,” I say as my aunts breeze out of the high school with me in tow for a late lunch. “How did you know about my meeting?”

Aunt Vivianne and Aunt Diane smile at each other mischievously.

“Like you don’t know,” Aunt Viv says, and her eyes glitter.

“I really don’t,” I say with a nervous laugh.

“Because unless your principal is secretly best friends with Wolverine, it’s pretty lucky that he happened to call the phone we were holding, looking for your mom.”

My heart stops. I remember the aunts hanging up on our call because their borrowed phone was ringing. I also remember typing the wrong number into Principal Aceste’s phone because my hands were shaking. The spilled drink. It’s not exactly the perfect sacrifice, but if my intention was strong enough . . . could I have cast a spell?

“Lucky, or maybe magical?” Aunt Diane says, with another wink. “Of course, you can always call us to swoop in and save the day. It’s what we’re here for.”

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” I gush, bear-hugging them on the school steps.

“But we do want to hear all about it,” Aunt Diane says as she walks quickly to her car that is parked illegally in front of the school. “And you can tell us over lunch.”

“Okay,” I agree, my chest ballooning with hope. Once I tell them that I successfully cast a spell, they’ll definitely agree to leave me unchaperoned on Samhain. “If I can ask you who wrote that check you gave Principal Aceste.”

“Ummm . . . let me think,” Aunt Vivianne says as she starts the car. “Diane, who did we tell we needed money for equipment at the high school? Kristin? Or was it Leslie?”

“Oh, I don’t remember. Everyone wanted to help when they heard the school burned down,” says Aunt Diane, getting into the passenger seat.

“But the school didn’t burn down,” I remind her.

“Technicality,” says Aunt Vivianne, flooring it. We race through the school zone, the speed pressing me into my seat. My aunts just don’t have to worry about speeding tickets. “The money went to the school, didn’t it? And they wanted to remain anonymous, so all’s well that ends well.”

I’m a bit skeptical, but I’m instantly swayed when I see the clear bag filled with candy pumpkins Aunt Diane is passing me from the front seat. “We got these for you in the city, dear. From some sugar factory to celebrate.”

“Celebrate?” I ask, taking the bag and opening it up. I smell a hint of vanilla and caramel. I pop a pumpkin in my mouth and decide to save the rest for Zach as a peace offering. He’s been texting nonstop after my “We’re all clear! Detention canceled!” text. I haven’t had a chance to write him back. With detention off the table, all that’s left to do is convince my aunts they don’t need to be home.

“Your talents, of course,” says Aunt Viv, taking a sharp right turn into town that sends me tumbling into the adjacent leather seat. “Getting a phone call to manifest is one thing, but we’re so proud that you blew up the chemistry lab!”

“I thought you told Principal Aceste it was an accident,” I say, and pause. “Plus, ‘blew up’ is a bit of an exaggeration.”

She turns to look at me, crossing her arms. The wheel continues to twitch on its own as the car zooms down the tree-lined streets, orange and red leaves blurring. “That, my dear, is your magic at work.”

I might as well accept it. “Right,” I say. “I was just, you know, practicing. Honing. Since I’m doing the rituals this year alone with . . . Peter.”

“Peter!” says Aunt Diane, clasping her hands together. She looks teary as Aunt Viv—or whatever enchantment has the car—pulls neatly into an open parking spot on the town green. “Look at how you’ve grown this year. I know you’ve been so worried that your magic wasn’t as strong as ours, what with no ailment to let you know it’s working, but clearly you were wrong. You started a fire! That’s some serious spell work. The rites will be a cinch compared to that.”

“About that,” I say, nerves prickling along me. “Since I’m clearly coming into my powers so well, I was wondering—well, hoping—that you two might consider letting me do the ritual on my own.”

“On your own?” Aunt Viv asks, and her tawny hazels are suddenly serious.

I gulp. “I mean, you were just saying how proud you were—”

“That’s a tall order, little miss,” Aunt Viv says, trading a look with Aunt Diane. “For you, and for . . .”

“Peter,” I say, a moment too late.