Page 14 of Potion Sickness

“I’ve seen grown women throw the candle across the room, and by ‘grown women’ I mean me, my first summer learning it.”

“How many tries did it take you?”

“Nine.”

“You’re a terrible motivational speaker.”

She nudges a saucer containing a single tea light toward me.

“Everybody’s magic comes in crooked. Mine came in early and useless. It took me a decade to figure out how to apply it properly. Yours is coming in late and sideways. Late and sideways still arrives.”

“It’s not arriving. It’s been thirty-six years. It missed the exit.”

“You found a dryad the whole Council couldn’t find, just a few months ago,” she says, “and last month you cracked a windowpane with your mind, so.”

“Kindling charm attempt four remains the high-water mark of my magical career,” I say. “I peaked with unintentional property damage.”

The problem with arguing with Annabel is that she simply doesn’t engage. She just waits until you run out of objections.

I hold my intention like a match and offer it to the wick.

The saucer rotates a slow half turn and stops.

“Well,” Annabel says. “That’s new.” She leans over the table, studying the saucer. “Attempt four cracked a window. Attempt seven knocked over the pepper grinder⁠—”

“‘Knocked over’ is a bit of an oversell. It unscrewed itself and fell over.”

“—and this one turned the dish. Mari, everything you do moves objects. You keep aiming at the flame and hitting the thing holding it.”

She takes the candle out of the saucer and sets it directly on the table, bare. “Again. No dish this time. Nothing to hit but the candle.”

I, once again, hold my intention like a match. Attempt thirteen moves the shoebox the candles came in.

Before Annabel can insist on more intention, Gabe calls.

“I know it’s not Tuesday,” he says. “But I’ve got the Kowalski service at eleven and the sitter has a sudden dentist thing, and Hannah’s busy at the Community Center all day⁠—”

He arrives a few minutes later with Addie, a box of pastries, and an apology already in progress before the screen door is fully open.

“Addie is very upset the girls are at the Community Center and she’s not⁠—”

“It’s unfair,” Addie says, ducking under his arm into the kitchen. “Emma gets to use the drill.”

“I am quite certain Emma does not get to use the drill,” Gabe says.

“We can go to the Community Center when we’re done here,” I say.

Gabe sets the pastry box on the counter and looks around the room. “Am I interrupting witch business?”

“You’re interrupting remedial witch business,” I say. “Stay. Watch me menace a candle.”

“I’d love to, but I have to bury a Kowalski.” He pours himself half a cup of coffee anyway. “Addie, listen — Ms. Rose is not your teacher right now. She’s Mari’s teacher. She’s your host.”

“I know how to be a guest,” Addie says, with dignity, climbing onto the chair next to Annabel.

Outside the screen door, a little grey face appears at the gap, whiskers first — Bandit, Addie’s raccoon familiar.

“Do I smell pastries?” he says, pressing himself against the screen.