And then she remembered—he was under the influence of a spell.
This kiss was a lie.
Anna broke away. Brimming with shame, she got up and tripped over other moviegoers’ legs on her way out, needing to get away as fast as she could.
She was halfway across the parking lot when Noah caught up with her, calling her name. She stopped and closed her eyes, her breath fogging in the chill night air.
“Anna! I’m—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable—”
She laughed harshly and turned back to him, tears building in her eyes. “No, that’s not it. This... This is all fake. I can’t do this with you.”
Noah frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“That spell I baked for you? It wasn’t a confidence spell. I accidentally gave you a love spell.” She swallowed as her throat burned, the shame choking her. “It was an accident, and I tried to give you a counter spell, but it didn’t work. So then I tried to avoid you until it wore off, but...”
He stared at her, uncomprehending. His pale face was flushed from the cold, or maybe from the kiss, or maybe with anger.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I... I wanted to kiss you, I really did, but not like this.”
He looked around, at a loss, and ran his fingers through his hair. “So...that’s why it was a cupcake instead of a whoopie pie.”
“Yes,” she whispered, staring at the ground.
“I guess now I know why my brother was acting so weird for a couple days.”
Anna frowned and looked back up. “What?”
Noah put his hands in his pockets. “The spell wasn’t for me. It was for my brother. I’ve known he has a crush on one of his friends for a while, now. We’ve talked about it, but he could never get up the courage to ask him out. So I wanted to give him a confidence spell to finally make the leap.”
He ruffled his hair again, frowning. “I gave the box to his friend, who brought it up to him. I guess since it was a love spell, it did work, in a way. But my brother was already half in love with the guy, so...” He shrugged. “He was acting pretty goofy for a couple days, like I said. Drawing hearts. Giggling.”
Anna could hear her heartbeat in her ears. “So...you didn’t eat any of it. You weren’t spelled.”
“No. I kissed you because I wanted to.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Why didn’t you just tell me this earlier?”
“I... I didn’t know how.” She crossed her arms, shivering. “I’m sorry, Noah.”
He looked at her a moment, then turned back to the theater.
“Well, I still gotta chaperone those dorks, so I guess I’ll see you later.”
He left her in the parking lot as her tears finally fell, stinging in the cold.
* * *
The next day, she told Carlin the truth. They sat across from her, listening silently, their brows furrowed.
“It’s completely my fault, and I would hate for this to reflect badly on the shop,” Anna finished. “I promise I’ll never do anything like this again.”
Carlin took a deep breath. “Anna, you know you’re supposed to run all spelled orders by me. Even if it’s a favor for a friend.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Carlin shook their head, eyes filled with regret. “I’m sorry too, Anna. I’ve got to fire you.”
Her stomach clenched. “Wh... What?”
“The shop can’t be linked to stuff like this—stuff that can endanger others. I know you meant no harm, but I have to set an example. I have to let you go.”
Anna nodded numbly, getting up from her stool. She could barely feel her body as she took off her apron, as Carlin handed her an envelope containing her last paycheck.
“You’re a great baker, Anna,” they said. “You’re going to go on to do amazing things. Don’t let this setback cost you a promising future, all right?”
She couldn’t tell them that she likely wouldn’t have that future without a letter of recommendation from them—the surefire way she could get accepted to Gramoire. Shaking, she nodded again and left, saving her sobs until the bakery was out of sight.
* * *
Her father took pity on her and made her some laddu while her mother lectured her, barely pausing for breath.
“You were foolish to do such a thing!” she said for the tenth time while her dad set a fresh cup of chai before her. “You could have ruined someone’s life!”
“I did,” Anna mumbled into her chai. “Mine.”
“Nahi, beti,” her dad said. “You did the right thing, in the end. People learn from their mistakes and become better people for it.”
Her mom fiddled with her welding goggles as she muttered. Anna slunk away from the kitchen to curl up in her room, deciding to call Emma.
“This sucks worse than the tentacle monster in The Revenge of the Space Kraken,” Emma said. “But you’ll get through this, babe. I know you will.”
“Just tell me something good.”
“Well...you’ll never believe this, but guessed who asked me to Homecoming?”
“Riley?”
“Nope. Vivian Huang.”
“Wait, what? Seriously?”
“Yeah! Apparently, girl’s had a crush on me like, all semester. Go figure.”
“You sound pretty happy about it.”
“Um, yeah, because Vivian is hot. And like, really funny? I sat next to her during the movie and she kept making me laugh.”
Anna winced at the mention of that night. “That’s great, Em. I’m happy for you.”
“You sound all emo when you say it like that.”
“Sorry, I just...” She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Still trying to process things.”
The doorbell rang, and her dad called for her. Frowning, Anna sat up.
“I’ll call you back.”
She crept down the stairs, then nearly ran back up in mortification. Noah was standing in the front room with her dad.
And she was wearing her pajamas. Specifically, her Harry Potter pajamas.
“Hey,” Noah said.
It took her a minute to breathe out the word. “Hey...”
Her dad, getting the hint, went back to the kitchen. Anna flushed and grabbed her peacoat from the hook by the door. “Let’s go outside.”
They sat on the front step. Anna burrowed her hands in her pockets, biting her lower lip as her stomach writhed anxiously.
“So,” Noah said, nodding to her pajamas. “I didn’t take you for a Slytherin.”
She blinked, then laughed weakly. “Yeah, everyone assumes I’m a Hufflepuff, but I’m not nearly nice enough for that.” She shifted and cleared her throat. “As you probably know by now.”
Noah shook his head. “You’re being too hard on yourself. I’ve been thinking about what happened. It’s like you said—it was an honest mistake. You weren’t trying to hurt anybody.”
“I hurt my best friend, though. I hurt you.”
“I understand why you kept it from me. Honestly, I’d have probably done the same thing.” He sighed, and a long plume of fog drifted from his mouth into the air. “And you know what? It worked—my brother and his friend are happy. To me, that’s what matters.”
Anna shifted again. “So you...you forgive me?”
He smiled. “Yeah. And that’s not some weird spell talking.”
She laughed, then realized how close they’d gotten. She sucked in a breath, remembering all the times he had looked at her this week, the silly smiles he’d given her.
Noah liked her. Really, truly liked her.
When he kissed her, she melted against him. For a half second, she wondered if maybe she was under a spell, wondering how this boy could do this to her.
After a minute, Noah pulled back, flushed and grinning. “I uh... I have to get ba
ck home, but I’m glad we talked.”
“Yeah,” she breathed, too light-headed to think of anything else.
She walked him to the curb, where they kissed again before Noah took off. She watched him with her own goofy smile, not even caring that the whole street could see her Slytherin pajamas.
She grabbed the mail before heading back in. Plopping the stack down on the table beside the door, she did a double take. The top envelope was addressed to her, and it was written in Carlin’s hand.
Anna ripped it open and read the letter inside.
It was a recommendation. One she could send to Gramoire with her application.
Her eyes stung as she hugged the letter to her chest. Maybe her dad was right—admitting you’d messed up was hard, but ultimately, it forced you to grow and become a better person. Or at least, she hoped to become a better person, a better baker, a better witch.
One spell at a time, she told herself.
* * *
FAR FROM HOME
by
Saundra Mitchell
“I knew you were hiding something from me,” River says through gritted teeth. His grip on the line above us hasn’t wavered, but every time the wind blows, we dip a little lower over the ravine.
Actually, looking down, with my sweaty hands threatening to slip at any moment, I have to revise that. It’s not a ravine. It’s a chasm. A canyon. Maybe even an abyss. A waterfall of loose stone showers over us, and I can’t get my stupid, alien brain to focus. “Can we fight about this later?”
“I hope so,” he retorts. “Can’t you do something about this?”
Incredulous, I say, “Like what?! I can’t fly.”
“That’s your yearbook quote, right there,” River says, sarcastic to the end.
Sweat softens the angles of his panicked face, and sunlight slants into his dark eyes. Usually, those eyes are so dark, his pupils disappear into the irises—every look is dark and deep. His eyes brood for him, no attitude required.
What the hell? We’re about to die, for real die, fall—no, plummet to our deaths, our permanent, very messy, very painful deaths, but here I am, dazzled by the secret bronze in his eyes. It’s on brand for me; I’ve always been distracted by River’s details. From the moment we met, and now, apparently, until the moment we die.
A thin twang cuts the air.
We drop. Hard.
The rope gives another groan and bows with our weight. Pebbles fly through the air like confetti; my shoulders wrench almost to snapping. River’s must, too. We both hiss in pain. Our hearts stop, skip, then crash back into rhythm. I can say that with authority; I can feel River’s pulse inside mine.
That’s what being in love is like when you’re from a galaxy far, far away. I don’t remember my home planet; hell, I don’t even know the name of it. But I’ve read a lot of books, watched even more movies, and not one human has mentioned the surge of another heartbeat in their blood. It’s like having River inside of me, 24/7. No matter where he is, I feel a trace of him in my veins. Most of the time, I find that comforting.
Our linked beat started in elementary school, when Mrs. Bakker put me next to him in her class. River was a good student; I was a juvenile delinquent. Teachers murmured about me sometimes; I heard them in the lounge, where secret teacher meetings happen.
Sorry, you’re going to have him for art and music this week.
Lucky, lucky me. Guess I’d better spike my coffee.
Ha, or jump off the roof!
Maybe they wouldn’t have said it, if they realized I could hear them, even across a football field. Or maybe they would have. In any case, their brilliant plan to reform me went exactly as far as changing the seating chart so that Dumaresq, Wade fell next to Hart, River.
Second-grade social engineering. He was supposed to be my good influence, and I guess he was.
He took the job seriously, helping me with my cursive, and sharing whatever dessert showed up in his lunch with me. (I got free lunch, so I had to stand at the end of the line. Free lunch kids got whatever was left over after the paying customers filled their trays.) When my test scores ticked out of the basement into gentleman’s Cs, River acted like I was Einstein.
The static in my head settled when I was near River. He was my reason to do my spelling test instead of folding it into progressively smaller stars to flick across the room. River, just River, his warmth and spotlight attention—his freckles and his too-long hair...they felt like home, to me. A real one; not the group home where I had my bed and nothing much else.
In River, I found peace that kept me from tipping my chair back, breaking my pencil, drawing in my books, sneaking games on the Leapfrog Pad...but I still got in fights.
I just got in fights over him. For him. In his honor, to right the injustices against him. Basically, I was his rabid dog, bigger inside than my scrawny frame at the time justified. All anybody had to do was give him a look I didn’t like, and I rushed in, fists first.
(It’s worth mentioning River came out in eighth grade, when he was the star hitter for our baseball team. He took us to junior State, so nobody at our school gave a shit if he wanted to wear eyeliner and kiss guys. A lot of Visiting jackasses had a problem, however, so that meant I had plenty of lips to split and eyes to dot over River Hart.)
“Superman couldn’t fly in the beginning.”
I blink at River as I try to pull myself up on the rope. If I can get an elbow over it, I can get my waist over it. Pull River up and then...nope, still no good plan. And now River’s dangling with his unlaced Converse slowly slipping off his feet. Sharing comic book facts. For no reason at all.
Finally throwing an arm over, I wince as the rope burns against my skin. “What does Superman have to do with anything?”
River watches me, his dark eyes running over me like I’m a map to salvation. “All he could do in the beginning was jump over stuff.”
With a grunt, I finally drape myself over the line by the waist. My hair falls in my face, because of course it does. It’s wet with a flop sweat, and I can smell myself when the wind shifts directions. Ripe. Groaning, I try to lay out a plan in my head. River keeps me on the narrow, and I keep him out of danger.
Usually.
How we got here isn’t important—it will be later, if we survive. Suffice it to say that Area 51 got a bad rap for alien autopsies, but it was only testing experimental aircraft. Fort Carter Research Center, on the other hand, had a morgue full of starbois like me and a staff of scientists that had recently developed an interest in adding me to the collection.
Yeah, I gave myself away when I flipped that jackknifing semi over our school bus with a psychokinetic blast. It’s not like I was gonna let a bunch of people die, just to keep this secret.
And come on! I’m a high school senior with just enough credits to get my diploma and squeak into a community college. It’s not like I’m on an Ivy League path to world domination.
I work construction all summer to cover my studio apartment (got emancipated right out of the group home at 16; River helped me file the paperwork with the court). I eat cold hot dogs from the fridge because I’m too lazy to boil them, and I’d probably have to carbon date my jeans to figure out when I washed them last. All I care about is River Hart and paying my rent on time, in that order.
Well, and now, not dying.
River and I are about equally athletic, but his is from sports and mine’s from framing walls and putting on roofs. Dexterity versus brute force, you know? Once River sees how I alienhandle my way up, he follows deftly. That crazy bastard even does a kind of flip that stops my heart completely, but ends with him sitting on top of the rope.
Slinging my leg over, I manage to straddle the thing. Hauling myself up, I find myself staring into River’s eyes, and they’ve gone all dark again. Rich, like a night sky with a full moon. There’s light and depth and stars in
there, if I stare too long. I stare, but I also tell him, “There’s a little ledge over there, if we can get to it.”
Holding on to the rope, River turns slowly to look. The wind kicks up his hair, baring the shaved nape of his neck. It’s one shade paler than the regular, deeply-tanned copper of the rest of his skin. My heartbeat twines around him; I love that spot on his neck. It’s always so sensitive. All I have to do is rasp my nails against it to get him worked up.
And if I wanna live to do that again, I need to focus. Assess the damned situation. Down—definitely still too far down. Up...well, that’s impossible, unless a helicopter decides to come to the rescue. But my eyes burn as I look to the sky. It’s so blue that everything seems to stand out in relief to it. A natural, magic outline. I look around again—we can’t go back, but maybe we can go forward.
The rope is piked into the rock on the far side of the ravine, tied in bright, complicated knots. Best as I can tell, somebody was using it as a zip line. There’s elevation over there. I don’t think we can just head that way, not together. We’d be sliding uphill on a line that’s already coming loose.
Turning back, I can’t see the spike on this side anymore. It’s overhead, over the ledge, and just out of sight.
“So,” River says, “I’m thinking that Superman could always fly, he just didn’t know how to stay up in the beginning.”
“Do I look like Clark Kent to you?” I snap at River. This is still a bad time to bicker, but a slightly better time than twenty seconds ago. “I can move stuff. I can hear stuff. That’s it.”
Stubborn and patient, River raised one of his Peter Pan eyebrows at me. “You threw a semi. Throw me.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
There, hundreds of feet from the ground, clinging to a rope that ominously groans and sags, River Hart is asking me what’s the worst that could happen if I yeet him with an ability I can barely control.
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