by Emma Savant
Except right now.
I examined my wand for a moment, making sure it was ready to work. My wand was like a loyal pet: usually willing to go on an adventure, but often needing a moment to wake up. The base was carved with gently curving olive branches, adorned with a minuscule spray of stars near the tip.
I waved it around my head three times, then tapped the top of my head.
Tiny stars rained down in the air around me like slowly drifting snowflakes. The magic took hold. I felt it descend like a mask around my face—not uncomfortable, exactly, but not me.
The bathroom mirror showed a face that was mine, but wasn’t. It was hard to tell what was different. Slight irregularities in my face had smoothed themselves out. My one eye that was almost imperceptibly higher than the other had shifted down so that my eyes were perfect mirror images. They were bigger than usual, too, and their dark hazel had clarified to a sparkling, mysterious green. My nose was smaller, mouth fuller, skin clearer. My normally frizzy hair curled in attractive spirals around my face.
In short, I looked like me after I’d let someone else do my makeup and run me through Photoshop a couple times. It was more unnerving than attractive.
But Tyler seemed like the kind of guy who’d think otherwise.
I came up on him as he was shoving books into his locker, and leaned up against the locker next to his.
“Hey,” I said.
With a different face, I wasn’t myself. I was someone else—someone who wasn’t weirded out by talking to attractive guys.
Though, to be fair, it was easier to fall into believing my own illusion when I had literally no interest in what that guy thought about the me under the mask. I pretended I was Imogen and offered him a radiant smile.
He’d glanced up when I first spoke, looking almost bored. Girls probably tried to get his attention all the time. But then he did a double take. His eyes jumped down to my boobs and quickly back up to my face.
“You’re Tyler, right?” I said.
I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, resisting the urge to cross my arms over my chest. People passed by us in the halls. A couple of them glanced at me as they passed, then let their eyes linger.
“Yeah, I am,” he said. He shook his head so that his own dark hair flew out of his blue eyes. He looked like an Abercrombie model. “Have we met?”
“Come on,” I said. “Don’t you think you’d remember me if we had?”
This was another tip from Imogen: Be way, way, way overconfident. “Guys eat that stuff up,” she’d said, when I’d told her my plan and she’d coached me on it. “They pretty much believe you’re exactly as hot you think you are.”
Tyler shoved the last book up into his locker and slammed it shut. He leaned against it, his emotions brightening like I was a nice surprise on what had promised to be a boring day.
“What’s your name?” he said.
“Olivia,” I said. “I think we had homeroom together last year.”
“I seriously doubt that,” he said, leaning forward. “You’re right—I’d remember you.”
I narrowly avoided cringing.
“I saw your last game,” I said, hoping he wasn’t going to ask for particulars. “You’re pretty good.”
“I try,” he said. His voice was casual but he stood up straighter, sticking his chest out a little. He smiled down at me. “You like basketball?”
“Confession,” I said. “I’m not that into it. But you made it interesting.”
I wanted to gag on the words, but the emotions floating around his body were pleased. He felt proud of himself, and, I realized with some irrational surprise, interested in me.
I leaned in more toward him until I was definitely violating his personal bubble.
“What are you doing after last period?” I said. “You want to go grab a coffee?”
His emotions shifted to being even more interested. I got the impression girls asked things like this a lot, and that this was the first time in a while it hadn’t just been an annoyance. Oh, to be in Tyler Breckenridge’s shoes.
“I’ve got some time,” he said, looking down at me with a smile clearly meant to charm me.
“I’ve got just the place,” I said. “Their shortbread cappuccinos are to die for and they’re pretty close. Have you been to Pumpkin Spice?”
He shook his head, and I widened my eyes like I was horrified.
“Map it,” I ordered. “It’s the café, not the home decor store. I trust you’re smart enough to tell the difference.”
“I think I can figure it out,” he said. He leaned in toward me, just a little too close. I backed away.
“I’ll see you at four,” I said. “Don’t be late.”
I walked away down the hall, aware of his eyes on me. I forced myself to walk slowly and give him something worth looking at, like Imogen did.
It felt creepy.
I turned the corner and ran smack-dab into something solid.
“Sorry!” I exclaimed.
I hoped Tyler hadn’t seen. It wouldn’t exactly improve my first impression. I stepped back to look up at whomever I’d run into, then felt the blood rush to my face.
Lucas was staring at me with his mouth slightly open.
“Hi, Olivia,” he said, although hesitantly, as though uncertain it was me.
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. It looked like shiny curls but felt the same as ever to me. My finger snagged between two curls and I yanked it out.
“Hi,” I said.
My face felt like it was a million degrees. Why had I had to run into him, of all people?
He said, still uncertain, “You look… nice.”
“Lots of makeup,” I said. “Doing a photoshoot. Art project.”
I wasn’t in Art. I hoped he didn’t know that.
“Cool,” he said, but he couldn’t seem to stop staring.
I felt myself getting hotter and redder. I tried to keep it from showing through the glamour, but I was no Imogen. There was no telling what I looked like.
“I’ve gotta go,” I said. “I’m going to be late. For the photoshoot. You know.”
“Right,” he said, too quickly. He was a little pink too, come to think of it. “Better get going. See you later.”
I ducked past him and down the hall, not checking to see if he watched me go. I didn’t even wait until I was all the way through the ladies’ room door before I tapped my wand and brushed the uncomfortable magic off.
Chapter 11
I sat on one of the couches with my muscles poised to spring. I felt like a cat. An antsy, paranoid, ready-to-snap-at-any-second cat.
Rain sprinkled down onto the glass, tiny drops that were barely more than heavy mist outside. They peppered the backward Pumpkin Spice logo on the window. I flinched as a dark-haired guy walked past, but it wasn’t Tyler.
My phone buzzed on the table. I looked down.
Lucas: Good news! I talked my way into US History. You’re in that one, right?
It was a sign of my nerves that I wasn’t excited about the text. I picked up the phone, then set it back down.
“Here you go,” Elle said, making me jump. She handed me a coffee and a small muffin wrapped in a crinkled paper cup. “You okay?”
“I’m good,” I said, too quickly. “Sorry. Was just thinking.”
“About anything interesting?”
“No,” I said. “Definitely not.”
Elle didn’t believe me but smiled. “Is Imogen with you? Sorry I can’t make the movie tonight. I promised Kyle I’d go to his grandma’s birthday party.”
I remembered, just in time, that Imogen had said she’d try to get Elle to a movie with us that evening. “The more bonding the better!” Imogen had said, though I knew part of it was just her excitement at being part of an actual professional godmothering case. Imogen could get jealous sometimes, but she’d learned to turn her envy into motivation to help instead of motivation to sulk around and complain, which just went to show that
we were growing up.
Or maybe she was growing up. I seemed to be spending a lot of time sulking and complaining about having the case at all.
“That’s okay,” I said. “Grandmas are a big deal.”
“Especially Kyle’s,” she said. “She thinks she’s a psychic. Purple scarves and tarot cards and everything. She keeps telling me I can make business here better by ‘charming the coffee like my mother used to do.’” She rolled her eyes. I forced a laugh. “At least she remembers what we were like before,” she said. “Anyway, I’ll catch you later, okay?”
“Sure thing,” I said. “Hey, I’m meeting a friend here in a few minutes. Would you bring a shortbread cappuccino over when he gets here?”
“You got it,” she said. She walked back to the counter, and I went back to watching the windows.
After what felt like an hour, his figure appeared through the streaked glass. I recognized his profile from under his dark blue hoodie. I tapped my wand’s handle, activating the glamour I’d set up earlier. It settled around my face. It would wear off as soon as I threw the love spell on him and another glamour on Elle—I wasn’t about to try to keep all three spells going at once. It was a lot of magic in a short amount of time and I had to time it just right.
The bell on the door jangled, its bright sound cutting a sharp line between the gray day outside and the warm brown nest of Pumpkin Spice. Tyler stepped in, pulled his hood down, and looked around for me. I could see him taking in the room. He saw me and sauntered across the room to my couch.
He sat down on the sofa next to me, not too close but close enough that I could reach out and touch him if I wanted to. “Am I late?” he said.
“Nope,” I said, though it felt like it. “Right on time. I ordered for you. I hope you don’t mind.” I batted my lashes at him. It was a corny move, but it always worked for Imogen, and he didn’t seem put off by it.
“Not at all,” he said. “You seem like you’d have pretty good taste.”
I smiled at him, then realized we had literally nothing else to talk about. Small talk wasn’t my thing. It was one of many skills the faeries had forgotten to give out at my christening. I sipped on my coffee, trying to buy time, and said, “So. Basketball. How long have you been playing?”
It really was as easy as asking a question. He was off, explaining how he’d been playing since he was three, had met some famous basketball player and gotten a signed ball from him when he was eight, and had spent the last few years training hard so he could play in college. “It’s pretty much my life,” he said. “I probably won’t get to play professionally—I mean, who does?—but I still love it. It’s fun, and I figure if it’ll get me through four years of college, I did good.”
“What do you want to study in college?” I said. “You must have a major in mind if you don’t want to play ball forever.”
“Business,” he said. “Maybe go into politics someday. I want to make the world better, you know?”
Maybe he and Elle did have something in common, after all. I leaned in. “How?” I said.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Crack down on illegal immigration or something.”
I didn’t know a whole lot about Humdrum politics—the Glimmering world gave me more than enough to keep track of on any given day—but I had a feeling Elle wouldn’t be behind this goal. I glanced over. She was busy behind the counter while Cortney cheerfully but slowly took the orders of the cluster of people waiting their turn.
“What about immigration?” I said. I needed to keep him talking. He obliged, launching into a diatribe about how immigrants were just here to steal jobs and leech off the welfare system and try to turn America’s national language into Spanish. I pressed my lips shut to avoid telling him that actually, the USA didn’t have an official language. Even without knowing too much about the issue, I couldn’t help cringing. He sounded like such a spoiled rich kid.
Was I really setting this guy up with Elle? I couldn’t think of anyone I knew who was likely to want him less.
But it wasn’t my job to judge, I remembered. It was my job to do.
Elle was coming out from behind the counter, a mug in her hand. Her lips pursed when she saw him, but she didn’t say anything.
She leaned in and handed him the mug, and as she did, I tapped the back of my wand and sent a jolt of magic in both their directions. I gave her my glamour, and I drenched him in the love spell I’d put together yesterday at work and been carrying around in my wand ever since. The air between them crackled, and they both froze for a moment, staring at one another. Then the world resumed its normal course and she leaned back.
“Careful,” she said slowly, like she knew something had just happened but couldn't figure out what. “It’s hot.”
He set the mug down on the table and, still staring at her, said, “I’ll be careful.” He spoke like it was a secret promise.
She looked radiant. Her blond hair was suddenly suffused with gold and sunbeams, and her eyes were the glimmering brown of driftwood under a running stream.
I reached my thoughts out to him, trying to sense if the spell had taken hold. It was immediately apparent that it had gone exactly according to plan. His entire energy had been consumed by the single thought that he loved everything about her.
So far, so good.
“Let me know if I can do anything else for you,” Elle said, tilting her head at him. He kept gaping at her, and she looked over at me and quirked an eyebrow slightly. I shrugged, like I had no idea what was going on.
She walked away, glancing back over her shoulder to find him still gaping.
I elbowed him. “Quit staring. You’re freaking her out.”
Startled, he turned to look at me. His face registered surprise, then confusion. He couldn’t figure out why I suddenly wasn’t pretty. I hoped he’d put it down to simply the power of comparing anyone else to the true object of his affections; otherwise, I was going to have a lot of explaining to do.
But Humdrums never realized when something supernatural was going on. They always blamed themselves, even when that was literally the last rational course of action.
“Who was that?” he asked. His voice was as hushed as if we were in a church. I wondered if maybe I’d mixed the spell too strong, then decided it needed to be crazy strong to get past Elle. Judging by the way she kept glancing over at him with her eyebrow quirked and lips pursed, she was more confused than impressed by his quick jump from apathy to passion.
I tried to act casual. “What?” I said. “Oh. That’s just my friend Elle. She practically runs this place.”
“She’s—” He cut off abruptly and looked at me, probably realizing it was rude to admire one girl when out with another.
I smiled. “She’s gorgeous,” I said. “I know. I could introduce you, if you want. Except maybe tomorrow. Looks like she’s a little busy today.”
He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. He still ended up looking like a model out of a J.C. Penney catalog. “Tomorrow,” he repeated. “Tomorrow would be good.”
As if he were sleepwalking, he stood up, his coffee untouched. “I’d better go get ready,” he told me seriously. When I nodded, he walked out. The bell on the door clanged brightly behind him.
I sipped my coffee. The calm relief flowing through me wasn’t what success felt like, but maybe it was the appetizer. My arms felt heavy. The magic had worn me out.
Before I finished my mug, just as the caffeine began perking me up again, Elle showed up at my side. She crossed her arms and looked down at me. “What was that about?” she asked.
“That was Tyler Breckenridge,” I said.
“I know who that was,” she said. “He made quite a point of telling the entire world I was a lesbian during health class last year. We go back a ways. What was wrong with him?”
“You’re a lesbian?” I said, then immediately wished I hadn’t. I couldn’t have jammed my foot any further down my throat if I’d tried.
; “No,” Elle said. “But that’s no one’s business, and anyway, I don’t care if people think I am. But that douche seems to think being called ‘gay’ is a legitimate insult, which makes him an ignorant asshole. Why was he being weird?”
“The douche is in love with you,” I said. I wasn’t sure whether this would soften her or make her hit me. From the way her jaw was twitching, it could go either way.
“Let’s pretend you didn’t say that,” she said.
I shrugged, trying to look apologetic but not halfway as apologetic as I actually felt. My job wasn’t to judge; my job was to do. I chanted it as a mantra in my head.
Elle sighed, the air bursting out of her in disgust.
“That’s ridiculous,” she said. “How do you know?”
“Trust me, I know when a guy is in love,” I said. “I’ve seen it before.”
“Are you kidding me?” she said. Her arms tightened against her chest, making her apron go taut against her shirt. “That’s really not funny.”
“I’m really not joking,” I said. “Why would that be funny?”
“You think a guy like Tyler is going to be interested in a girl like me?” she said. “Anyway,” she added, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t give him the time of the day even if he was.”
I scooted forward to the edge of the seat, looking up at her and trying to send softening waves of emotion toward her. I wished I had time to put together a spell, but my magical energy was shot. “Maybe you just need to give him a chance,” I said. “He seems like a really nice guy.”
“He’s not a nice guy,” she said.
“You don’t even know that,” I said. I couldn’t believe I was arguing for him. “People change.”
“Yeah, they do,” she said. “And he hasn’t. And I think whether or not to ‘give him a chance’ is my business.”
“Come on, Elle—”
“I was going to ask Kyle if maybe I could sneak out early to meet up with you guys,” she said. “But you know what? Never mind.”
She spun on her heel and took a few steps away, then turned back around to face me. “I really thought I’d give you a chance,” she said. “You seemed cool. But you’re just like everyone else. So you get to learn, just like everyone else, that I make my own decisions, and I’m not interested in hanging out with anyone who doesn’t respect that. I’m sorry I thought you were different.”
