Page 67 of Summer L.A.W.

“Don’t you dare make me explain this to Chad,” Sebastian muttered, trying to free his fingers from Magda’s wrist. The potion had other plans. It clung, gleaming, the perfect mix of chemistry and mischief.

They pulled hard, but accidentally ricocheted chest to chest, tied together by glossy strands of experimental adhesion.

“For the record,” Sebastian said tightly, “your binder appears to be effective.”

“For the record,” Magda said, breath brushing his collarbone, “so does your control.”

The door slid open. Joell took one look and sighed through her nose. “Should I get the chisel or the camera?”

“Chisel,” they said in unison.

“Dinner in twenty,” Joell added, backing out. “Try not to become a permanent art installation.”

Magda closed her eyes for one second, counting to three. “Okay,” she said. “We both lean back slowly. No sudden movements.”

They leaned. The potion stretched. And did not break.

“All right,” Magda said, shifting her stance while the potion stretched like caramel stuck to one’s teeth. “We’re going to lean back again. Slow. Controlled.”

“We’ve been leaning for ten minutes,” Sebastian said. “The only change is that my arm is asleep and we’ve attracted a fruit fly.”

“That is not a fruit fly,” Magda corrected, staring at the tiny glowing bug hovering near the potion threads. “It’s a spirit of stickiness.”

Sebastian blinked. “A what?”

Wally hopped closer, fascinated. The bug landed on one of the potion strands—and promptly got stuck. It buzzed in slow circles, trying to free itself.

“See?” Magda said. “If it were an ordinary fly, it would’ve gotten away.”

“I’d say precisely the opposite,” Sebastian groused. “Your potion is behaving like a high-viscosity polymer with progressive bonding properties.”

“Tomato, tomahto,” she said, tugging experimentally.

The potion clung harder.

Wally tried to help by grabbing the strand with his tiny hands. The potion adhered to him immediately, and when he panicked and hopped backward, all three of them jerked forward like puppets on one string.

“Wally—stop—stop… STOP!” Magda shouted.

Too late. Wally yanked again, harder this time, and all three of them toppled to the floor.

Magda collided fully with Sebastian, their lips almost touching. The impact rattled the shelves behind them. Two jars toppled, shattered, and released a puff of sparkly pink dust that smelled like cinnamon oatmeal.

“Oh great,” Magda groaned. “Love enhancer powder. Wally, why?”

Wally chirped, unhelpfully.

“Don’t breathe it in,” Sebastian said, holding his breath as the glitter settled.

“I’m a witch who works with airborne ingredients,” Magda replied. “If anything was lethal, I’d be dead years ago.”

The powder swirled, caught a draft, and drifted toward the greenhouse door, which slid open.

Chad peeked in. “Dinner—oh. Oh no. Absolutely not. I’m not dealing with that again.” He backed out so fast his shoes squeaked.

“Coward!” Magda yelled after him.

“I am not explaining this to Bas in my weekly report,” Chad’s voice called from down the hall. “You’re on your own!”