Spells

  She breathed in, sucking just a tiny bit of the sugar mixture into the tube, and then blew out, very slowly, while picturing—concentrating on—what she wanted it to look like. She turned the tube as she blew, and the small bubble on the end elongated, stretching out—contrary to all laws of physics—not into a round bubble, but a long cylinder. The opaque, muddy mixture whitened, then grew translucent.

  Laurel gave the tube a little more air and turned it once more before hesitantly pulling her mouth away. She usually did well up to this point.

  “That’s—”

  “Shh,” Laurel ordered, lifting a small silver knife that resembled a scalpel. She scored the sugar glass all around the edge of the diamond tube, then pulled on the cylinder, slowly separating it from the straw.

  The first side came easily and Laurel painstakingly rolled the cylinder in a circle, detaching the other edges. She held her breath as she pulled the tube away from the final point of connection. The still-flexible sugar bent, then stretched into a long string and, finally, broke away.

  As it did, the cylinder shattered.

  “Damn it!” Laurel yelled, slamming the tube down on her desk.

  “Careful with that thing,” David said.

  Laurel brushed his concern away with an annoyed wave of her hand. “Can’t break that,” she muttered.

  A long silence followed as Laurel studied the pile of glass shards, trying to decide what she had done wrong. Maybe if she sucked up a little more of the sugar syrup, it would make the vial thicker.

  “Can…can I try it?” David asked hesitantly.

  “If you must,” Laurel said, although she knew it wouldn’t work.

  But David grinned and scooted over to the chair she had just vacated. She watched as he tried to imitate what she had done, sucking a small amount of the sticky syrup into the straw and then blowing carefully. For a second it looked like it would work. A tiny bubble began to form, although it was round, rather than oblong. But almost as soon as it had formed, the bubble popped with a faint blurp and the liquid ran uselessly out of the diamond tube.

  “What did I do wrong?” David asked.

  “Nothing,” Laurel said. “You just can’t do it.”

  “I don’t see why not,” David said, looking at the greenish blob hanging off the end of the tube. “It doesn’t make sense that we should do this exact same thing with such drastically different results. At the very least they should be similar.”

  “This isn’t physics, David; it’s not science. It works for me because I’m a Fall faerie, and that’s the end of the explanation. Well,” she said, taking the tube from David, “it almost works.”

  “But, why?”

  “I don’t know!” Laurel said in exasperation.

  “Well, do you blow it in a certain way? Is there a technique I can’t see?” David asked, not catching her tone at all.

  “No. What you see is what I’m doing. No secret method or whatever.”

  “Then what am I doing wrong?”

  “What are you doing wrong?” Laurel laughed cynically. “David, I don’t even know what I’m doing wrong!” She slumped down on her bed. “In Avalon, I spent an hour every day for the last three weeks practicing blowing glass vials. And I haven’t managed to make a single one without breaking it. Not a single one!”

  David joined her on the bed. “An hour every day?”

  Laurel knew he was wondering if practice would help him blow vials too, but at least he didn’t say it. “My instructors keep telling me that if I’ve studied the components and the procedures, my intuition should do the rest, but that hasn’t worked yet.”

  “So you’re just supposed to know what to do?”

  “That’s what they keep saying.”

  “Like…instinct?”

  At that Laurel flopped down on her back, a frustrated breath whooshing out of her. “Oh man, instinct, that’s like the F-word in Avalon. Yeardley kept telling me, ‘You are trying to rely on instinct, you need to trust your intuition instead.’ But I looked up those two words and they mean the exact same thing.”

  David lay down beside her and she rolled over, snuggling into the crook of his arm, her hand draped across his chest. How had she lived without this for eight weeks? “It’s just so frustrating. Everyone my age in Avalon is so far ahead of me. And they’re just getting farther ahead. Right this minute!” She sighed. “I’m never going to catch up.”

  “Sure you will,” David said softly, his lips tickling her neck. “You’ll figure things out.”

  “No, I won’t,” Laurel said sullenly.

  “Yes, you will,” David repeated, his nose touching hers. His arms tightened around her waist and Laurel couldn’t help but smile.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  She closed her eyes, waiting for his kiss, but a rap on the doorway made her head jerk up.

  “Can you at least not make out on your bed while I’m home?” Laurel’s mom said dryly. “You know, pretend you’re following the rules.”

  David had already shot to his feet and stepped about three feet from the bed.

  Laurel dragged herself up slowly. “I did leave the door open,” she said.

  “Oh, good,” her mom responded. “Can’t wait to see what’s going on next time I walk by. I’m heading to the store,” she continued before Laurel could respond. “I want both of you to come downstairs, please.”

  Laurel watched her mom walk away, wearing a nice skirt and blouse, with a very businessy-looking bag on her shoulder. Just one of the many changes that had greeted Laurel on her return from Avalon.

  The first one had been awesome. David had driven Laurel back from the land yesterday and pulled into her driveway beside a black Nissan Sentra, complete with a red bow. “I figure, since you’re responsible for our current financial situation, you should reap some benefit from it,” her dad had said with a laugh as Laurel squealed and hugged him. The diamond Jamison had given Laurel last year to prevent her parents from selling their land had covered more than just her dad’s medical bills. But Laurel had not anticipated such a personal perk.

  The second big change was one she knew about. Her parents had decided to renovate their very small house by adding on a rec room—with lots of big windows for Laurel—and enlarging the kitchen. Laurel’s being away for the summer had struck them as the perfect opportunity. The work was supposed to be done by the time she got back, but the first thing Laurel did after walking in the door yesterday was trip over a bunch of tools. The contractors promised to be out by the end of the week, but Laurel had her doubts.

  The most drastic change, though, came as an even bigger surprise than her car. In the spring, Laurel’s dad had acquired some shop space next to his bookstore, intending to expand his store. But shortly after Laurel left for Avalon her parents decided to open a new store, instead—a naturopathy store for her mom. Nature’s Cure—which had opened just before Laurel got home—sold homemade remedies and a wide array of vitamins, herbs, and natural foods, as well as a nice selection of health and wellness books provided by the lovely bookstore next door. With all the time they both spent at their stores, her parents actually saw each other more now than ever before in their marriage.

  Which is great! Laurel told herself. After all, her mom should have something like this that was all her own. But in Laurel’s absence her mom had grown…distant. Her dad couldn’t seem to hear enough about Avalon, but during those discussions her mom would suddenly remember something she needed to do in another room. Laurel felt like the new store presented an additional avenue of escape; in the twenty-four hours Laurel had been home, she’d only seen her mom for a short dinner and once or twice as she rushed in and out on errands.

  She sighed and stood from the bed. “Come on, let’s go downstairs.”

  “Yeah, but…” David gestured at the glass-making supplies on Laurel’s desk.

  “I’m done for today,” Laurel said. “Let’s go do something fun. We’ve only got a few days before school starts a
gain.” Laurel pulled him toward the door. “My mom made cinnamon rolls this morning,” she added, trying to give him incentive.

  He let Laurel drag him away this time, but not before giving the desk a long look.

  In the kitchen David pulled a cinnamon roll from the pan and slathered it with cream cheese frosting. As he bit into it, he turned toward the large kitchen window—a new addition Laurel was quite fond of.

  “I haven’t seen Chelsea yet. Should we call her and see if she wants to watch a movie or something tonight?” Laurel secured the plastic wrap back over the bowl of frosting. The smell always made her a touch nauseated.

  “Sure, if she’s not hanging out with Ryan.”

  “Ryan?” Laurel asked, stowing the frosting in the fridge. “Tall Ryan?”

  “Yep.”

  “Are they, like, together?”

  “Chelsea’s been a bit closedmouthed about it—if you can imagine—but if they’re not together now, they will be soon. Maybe you can worm something out of her.”

  “Maybe. That’s weird.” Not that Chelsea would have a boyfriend—Laurel was way excited about that—but that she would choose Ryan. Tall, gangly Ryan, who didn’t talk a lot and was particularly unobservant. Laurel was all for the idea that opposites attract, but maybe there was such a thing as too opposite.

  And then, of course, there was the issue that Chelsea had been enamored with David for the last several years. But if she was over him now then, hey, all the better.

  They were silent for several minutes, David finishing off his cinnamon roll and Laurel staring out the picture window, thinking about Chelsea. Finally David swallowed his last bite and took a deep breath. “I thought I saw Barnes yesterday, just before coming to pick you up.”

  An icy shudder of fear clutched at Laurel’s chest. “You thought?”

  “Yeah, wasn’t him. It was just that guy who runs the bowling alley.”

  “Oh, I took a double take at him a few months ago too.” Her laughter was tense, and it died away completely when she saw David’s face.

  “Why hasn’t he come back, Laurel?” he asked quietly.

  Laurel shook her head as she looked out the picture window at the woods behind her house. She wondered just how many faeries were living there, watching her right at this moment. Maybe now was the time to talk to David about her conversation with Jamison. “I don’t know,” she said, putting it off a little longer.

  “We ruined his plans. Big, big plans. And he knows where you live.”

  “Thanks for reminding me,” Laurel said wryly.

  “Sorry, I’m not trying to scare you. But I feel like…I don’t know, like a string getting stretched tighter every day. I keep waiting for something to happen. And it’s just getting worse,” he continued. “I see trolls everywhere. Every time I see an unfamiliar face in sunglasses, I wonder. As big as our tourist season was this summer, you can imagine it was a paranoid couple of months. And with you gone…” He took her wrist and pulled her to him, kissing the top of her blond head. “I’m just glad you’re back.”

  “Good.” She wrapped her arms around David’s waist and pushed up onto her tiptoes for a kiss. It was quite a stretch these days—he was almost a foot taller than her now. He’d grown three inches the last six months and had started lifting weights, too. He hadn’t said as much, but Laurel suspected his confidence had taken a beating from their encounter with Barnes. Whatever his motivation, she couldn’t help but appreciate the results. She liked his stature; it made her feel safe and protected.

  If she could only get the hang of the things she’d learned at Avalon, maybe she’d feel even safer.

  Chelsea squealed and threw her arms around Laurel, who laughed into her hair, realizing just how much she had missed her friend.

  “I was going to come over yesterday,” Chelsea said, “but I promised myself I’d give you a day with David first. He’s been miserable without you.”

  Laurel grinned. She rather approved of that.

  “He hung out with me almost every day and talked about you nonstop for the first month, but then I started hanging out with Ryan, and David got all weird, so I haven’t seen him as much the last couple of weeks. Come upstairs,” Chelsea said as a tangle of limbs crashed into the entryway where they had been standing. “The last week before school is always the worst,” she said, pointing to her brothers wrestling on the floor.

  Laurel couldn’t tell for sure whether it was a real fight or just a fun one. In either case, it was probably safest to get out of the way. She followed the still chattering Chelsea upstairs to her faerie-bedecked bedroom. It always made Laurel a little uneasy to be in there, with traditional butterfly-winged faeries staring out at her from the walls, the ceiling, and the spines of Chelsea’s impressive collection of faerie books.

  “So, you don’t look very tan,” Chelsea said, pausing for a response.

  “Uh,” Laurel said, totally off guard. “What?”

  “Tan,” Chelsea repeated. “You don’t look very tan. After almost two months at a wilderness retreat I figured you would have gotten pretty tan.”

  Laurel had almost forgotten the cover story David had invented—that she’d been on a wilderness retreat. A retreat that, conveniently, had no phone or internet access. Laurel felt awful lying to Chelsea, but Chelsea was just too forthright for keeping secrets. Ironically, it was one of her best characteristics. “Um, sunscreen,” Laurel said elusively. “Lots and lots of sunscreen.”

  “And hats, apparently,” Chelsea said dryly.

  “Yeah. So tell me about you and Ryan,” she said, anxious to change the subject.

  Chelsea suddenly found something very interesting to study on the carpet.

  Laurel laughed. “Chelsea, are you blushing?”

  Chelsea laughed nervously and shrugged.

  “You like him?” Laurel prodded.

  “I do. I never thought I would, but I do.”

  “That’s awesome,” Laurel said sincerely. “So…are you guys officially together yet?”

  “How do you get ‘officially together’?” Chelsea asked. “Do you have to have some kind of special conversation where you say, ‘Oh, gee, I like you and you like me, and we like to make out, so now let’s be official’? How does that work?”

  Laurel’s eyes widened. “You make out with Ryan?”

  “I think so.”

  “Either you do, or you don’t,” Laurel said with an eyebrow raised.

  “Well, we kiss a lot. Does that count?”

  “Not only does that count, I think that makes you officially together.”

  “Oh, good,” Chelsea said with a sigh of relief. “I was all stressed out because we hadn’t had any special talk or anything.”

  “Kissing is better than talking,” Laurel said with a grin. “So how did this happen?”

  Chelsea shrugged. “It just did. Well, kind of. I mean, you know I liked David hardcore for forever.”

  Laurel nodded but thought it best not to actually say anything.

  “It got to the point where he was all I could see. Ever. And I hated that you were with him, but I loved that you were both happy, and it was awful being so torn.”

  Laurel scooted a little closer and laid a hand on Chelsea’s arm. It was a subject they’d never broached before, despite Laurel knowing it must have been difficult for her. Chelsea smiled and shrugged. “So I decided I needed to just stop. Stop everything David. Stop thinking about him, stop watching him, stop even liking him.”

  “How did you do that?” Laurel asked, thinking instantly of her issues with Tamani.

  “I don’t know, really. I just did. It was weird. I’ve spent years trying so hard to get David’s attention, to make him like me. And it was like I couldn’t see anything else. And then I didn’t so much make myself stop focusing on David, as I let myself focus on other people. And it was really cool.” Her eyes widened dramatically. “There are guys everywhere; did you know that?”

  Laurel laughed. “I’m afraid I’m st
ill pretty focused on David.”

  “You should be,” Chelsea said seriously. “So, anyway, Ryan and I started hanging out more and then he asked me to a movie and then to lunch and soon we were hanging out all the time.”

  “And kissing.”

  “And kissing,” Chelsea agreed enthusiastically. “Ryan is a great kisser.”

  Laurel rolled her eyes. “Now there’s something I really wanted to know,” she said sarcastically.

  “Ah, come on—everyone wonders.”

  “Do not!”

  “Sure. I’ve always wondered what kind of a kisser David is.”

  “Um, that’s one of those questions you’re not supposed to ask.”

  Chelsea laughed. “I didn’t ask. I just said I’ve always wondered.”

  “That’s asking.”

  “Is not.” She leaned back against her headboard. “’Course, you could tell me anyway.”

  “Chelsea!”

  “What? I told you.”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “Technicality.”

  “I’m not telling.”

  “That’s code for he sucks.”

  “He does not suck.”

  “Aha!”

  Laurel sighed. “You are so weird.”

  “Yeah,” Chelsea said with a grin, tossing her springy curls. “But you love me.”

  Laurel laughed. “Yes, I do.” She leaned over and tipped her head onto Chelsea’s shoulder. “And I’m glad you’re happy.”

  “I’d be happier if you told me what David’s like in bed.”

  Laurel looked incredulously at Chelsea, then hit her with a pillow.

  TEN

  LAUREL SAT CROSS-LEGGED IN HER ROOM, SORTING through school supplies and packing her backpack. David, who had been ready to go back to school for a week now—probably a month, Laurel just didn’t have proof—was sprawled out on her bed, watching her. She pulled a four-pack of multicolored highlighters out of her shopping bag and took a moment to hug them to her chest. “Oh, highlighters,” she crooned melodramatically, “how I missed you!”

  David laughed. “You can take them with you next year.”