Page 68 of Summer L.A.W.

A moment later, Joell reappeared with Sahara behind her.

“What now?” Joell asked, taking in the tableau. Peaking over the bench, she saw two adults glued in the missionary position, a wallaby tangled in magic taffy, and potion threads webbed across half the greenhouse like avant-garde performance art.

Sahara stepped forward, squinted, and said, “Oh. This is an Adhesion-3 type reaction. Rare. Usually only appears when someone mixes binding herbs with emotionally charged⁠—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Magda begged.

Joell cracked her knuckles. “All right. I’m going to pull you free.”

“No—!” Sebastian started.

Joell grabbed Magda’s arm and was promptly stuck.

“Oh come on!” she shouted, tugging violently. The potion stretched, glittered, and clung harder, now binding her hand to Magda’s elbow.

Sahara tried to unstick Joell by pulling her waist from behind. She became stuck.

“Why did you touch me?” Joell demanded.

“You said you were going to pull!” Sahara said through clenched teeth. “I thought by putting clothing between us I wouldn’t stick to you.”

“No, now you’re just stuck to my clothes. Do not rip my silk blouse."

“This is why scientists take notes,” Sebastian muttered.

“This is why witches don’t let academics into the lab unsupervised,” Sahara shot back.

“Everyone,” Magda said, inhaling deeply, “Stop talking. We’re going to coordinate this.”

“Finally,” Sebastian sighed.

“Joell and Sahara lean right,” Magda instructed. “Sebastian, you roll left. Wally—please don’t do anything that involves hopping.”

Everyone leaned.

The potion stretched.

Then Wally grabbed the shelving unit behind them.

Metal groaned. Pots rattled. A row of ceramic planters slid forward like synchronized divers.

“Oh no,” Joell whispered. “Oh hell no.”

One planter toppled. Then another. Then all of them.

By the time the cascade settled, the entire group was half-stuck to each other, half-stuck to the shelving, and one unfortunate pothos vine was draped over Sebastian’s shoulder like a leafy scarf.

“This is fine,” Magda said brightly. “We can fix this.”

Sahara deadpanned, “We need a solvent, not optimism.”

“And where do we get a solvent?” Sebastian asked.

Magda winced.

“Magda,” Joell said. “Why did you make that face?”

“Because the only thing strong enough to dissolve this mixture is in the kitchen,” she admitted.