by Holly Bourne
“You’d be mental for giving Aidan the time of day,” Mia says.
“But he’s asked me to come. Surely that must mean something?”
“He’s hurt you before,” Alexis says. “That should mean something. Much as I want to go to this party, I don’t want you to get hurt. And that boy has a pattern.”
I shake my head now. “I literally don’t understand myself right at this moment. I mean, I cast this spell to get Aidan back and now I—”
I’m cut off by Alexis squeezing my arm. “Oh my God,” she squeals. “Guys! It’s Casper.”
Of all the interruptions in all the world, I was not expecting this one.
“What?” Mia asks.
We follow where Alexis is pointing and our eyes land on a very small, very lost‑looking dog. It has to be said, the little thing looks exactly like Alexis’s recently deceased Casper.
Alexis jumps up. “It’s Casper! He’s here to say goodbye.” She skids over the road at top speed and is at the animal’s side within seconds, crouching down and rubbing the dog behind his ears. “Here, here, boy. Oh my God, I MISS you SO MUCH. I can’t believe you came.”
Mia and I look at each other. I’m in total shock. Too many spells are coming true. I’m willing to accept Aidan’s message as coincidence … but a resurrected animal?
“That’s not her dog, right?” I ask Mia. “It can’t be Casper.”
Mia smiles. “At this point in the evening, I’m willing to believe anything.”
We get up slowly, shell‑shocked, and drag our cold bodies over to Jesus‑Casper and a now‑crying Alexis.
“He’s come to say goodbye before he crosses over,” Alexis says. She runs her hands through his fur, tears pouring from her eyes. Jesus‑Casper is loving it and rolls over so we can get to his stomach. His little legs start twitching with joy as Alexis rubs him. I never, ever saw her be this nice to her dog when he was alive.
“I miss you so much,” Alexis says. “I’m sorry I wasn’t very nice to you. I hope you have a lovely time in doggy heaven.”
I reach my hand out towards the dog’s head, almost expecting my hand to pass through him like a ghost. But I make contact with fur and Jesus‑Casper leans happily into my hand.
“So weird,” I mutter.
Alexis is a transformed person. Not one part of her seems freaked out. She can’t stop rubbing the dog. She’s the happiest I think I’ve ever seen her. A smile creeps over my face. I don’t know if this Jesus‑Casper is actually Casper coming to say goodbye. Maybe it’s a coincidence, maybe it’s a lost dog, or maybe it’s magic. Whatever it is, I’m very glad it’s happened.
We all crowd around, rubbing Jesus‑Casper for a minute or two. The dog’s still on his back, paws up, tongue lolling in pleasure. His eyes stare right at us, like he’s telling us, “Please never stop doing this.” It’s a very real dog. Unless we’re all having the same hallucination at once – which is possible as we ate a lot of cheesy pizza – this dog is real. Then, as quickly as he arrived, Jesus‑Casper lets out a sharp bark, rolls over and runs off into the darkness. We stand and watch him fade into black.
“Goodbye, Casper,” Alexis whispers through tears. “I love you.”
I keep shaking my head. “I can’t believe we magicked the dog,” I say. “First Aidan messaging, then Casper coming back.”
Mia puts her hand up. “Orrrrr, maybe that dog was just a lost dog and we’ve let him run out into the night where he might get eaten by a fox.”
“No, that was definitely Casper.” Alexis turns to us, smiling the biggest smile the universe has ever seen. “We did it. We helped him cross over. We really do have powers.”
We grin at one another and a breeze comes out of nowhere, lifting our hair, chilling us to the bone. We burst out laughing, then sort of scream, giddily frightened. We start running back in the direction of my house, shrieking and stopping occasionally to howl at the blood moon. We must look like complete nutters, but I feel so much lighter since my cry.
I stop in my front garden and throw my head back to howl again. I marvel at how full I feel when I’m with these girls. How lucky I am that I’ve met my crazy friends. I don’t know why I worry about being unlovable when I’ve got proof of my lovability – right here, with them.
We let ourselves in and turn the heating up to thirty to warm up. We put on crazy music and dance around the house, having our own party. One that’s not traditionally cool, but cool because we feel free to be truly ourselves. The moon rises higher in the sky, in all its bloody way. It gets to silly o’clock, but we’re not sleepy.
“I want to cast one last spell,” I declare at two in the morning, “seeing as we’re so good at it.”
We light candles in my room and I make up the “ingredients” for the spell in my head. I rummage around in the kitchen to find things that represent each of us. Some sugar cubes for Alexis, red grapes for Mia and a vanilla yogurt for me. We put the food in the middle of the circle.
When the magic circle is set, I close my eyes and summon the power that I know is in me. I chant the words to this blessing spell like I’ve known them my whole life. “Spirits of Mother Nature,” I say. “I call on you. I ask that you bless us all and bless our friendship that makes us stronger. Grant us strength in our together and strength in our apart.”
“Strength in our together and strength in our apart,” my friends repeat.
I share the food between us and we mix the sugar into the yogurt and plop the grapes in. Then we take it in turns to eat it.
“This is so weird,” Mia comments, a tablespoon in her mouth. “But, also, all these ingredients totally work together. You’ve made a new recipe.”
“See, I told you. Ingredients!” I say.
The Super Blood Wolf Moon looks down on us through my bedroom window as we dissolve into laughter.
TWO AND A HALF YEARS LATER
I stare at the eyeliner pencil, willing it to do what I want it to do.
“Eyeliner, oh eyeliner,” I say to the pencil. “Will applying you be overkill with the rest of my outfit?”
Mia emerges from my bathroom, red‑faced, wrapped in a towel, big clouds of steam around her. “Talking to inanimate objects again?” she asks.
“At least I’ve stopped trying to conjure my powers of telekinesis.”
Mia laughs as she perches on the edge of my bed to rough‑dry her hair. It will never stop being wonderful that Mia shows off her skin now. She still has scars but no fresh cuts. She’s not had those for two and a half years.
“Ha, do you remember our witch phase?” Mia asks, reading my mind. “That was such a fun night.”
I watch myself smile at my reflection. “I still can’t believe we summoned Alexis’s dead dog.”
“Oh my God, she HATED that dog. What was that about? Thanks again for letting me use your shower, by the way. I can’t believe our boiler broke on the actual night of prom.”
“No worries, my dear.”
I return to the mirror, trying to figure out if the eyeliner will be too much. I’m still a bit nervous about the dress I’ve picked. It’s so … not me. Well, so not what people think is me. It’s bright red and clingy and you couldn’t ignore me in it even if you tried. I’ve painted my lips ruby red to match.
Mia turns on my hairdryer and blows her hair into submission while I decide a bit of eyeliner isn’t going to hurt anyone.
“When’s Alexis arriving?” Mia calls over the noise, running her hands through her hair to fluff it. “She’s going to make us late, isn’t she?”
“Most certainly.”
“Pity she’s so great.”
“I know. A tragedy.”
Our witching sleepover all that time ago has been on my mind today. Mainly because I was remembering how certain I’d been that I’d share this moment with Aidan Chambers. What a hilarious thought going to the prom with him is now. It’s strange how time can allow you to go from obsessed with someone to completely unbothered by them.
I
like time, I decide as I finish a perfect cat‑flick with the eyeliner. I like how what’s important to you becomes obvious as time passes, because it’s the things that stay the same. For example, it’s been over two years since that sleepover, and Aidan is just a cringey memory, while my closest friends are still my closest friends.
After she’s dried herself off, Mia wiggles into a long black dress that is way too hot and Gothy for summer. But she looks amazing and she’s used to wearing black in the heat.
“Are my arms OK?” Mia asks, quickly holding them out. “My scars not too obvious?”
I reflect again on time passing and the good things it can do. Like Mia now being able to have an open and honest conversation about her scars, and not just with us. After that sleepover, Mia even told her parents and they got her to the GP straight away.
“They’re fine and you look amazing,” I tell her.
“Cheers, bubs. As do you. Year Nine Sophia would’ve never worn red.”
“Year Nine Sophia learned to care less what people think,” I reply, smiling.
We turn up the music and shove each other, fighting for mirror space. Our phones ping at the same time with a message from Alexis:
TOTAL HAIR DISASTER WILL BE A WHILE
“Always with the drama,” Mia says.
“So much drama.”
“Pity she’s so great.”
Twenty minutes later, our make‑upping is interrupted by a knock at my door. “Can I come in yet?” Mum calls. “I need to embarrass you by taking ten million photos.”
Typically, Mum doesn’t wait for my reply before bounding in. “Oh, Sophia,” she says, her hand flying to her mouth. “You look so beautiful.”
I blush as red as my dress. “Please don’t start crying,” I say.
Mum holds up her camera and starts snapping like a crazed paparazzi.
“Mum! I’m not even ready.”
“I just want some action shots! OK. Let’s go outside and pose.”
Mia and I share an eye‑roll. “Alexis isn’t even here yet,” I say.
“We’ll get more of the three of you when she arrives,” Mum replies. “Come on. Outside. By the tree. Your dad will kill me if I don’t get some photos.”
I roll my eyes again. “Maybe he should be here if he doesn’t want to miss out.”
Mum doesn’t disagree; instead her lips go thin. That’s the sad thing about time passing, I guess. It shows you what’s important to you, but, on the flip side, it also shows up how important you are to other people. And my dad has only had me over to visit once since he left for Canada. Once.
But I won’t let Dad ruin my buzz tonight. I shove my toes into my sandals and hobble downstairs. I catch a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror and hardly believe it’s me.
We head outside and stage a mini photo shoot in the honking sunshine. Mia takes several pictures of Mum and me together. Mum’s eyes are misty with pride, like it’s my graduation day or something. She keeps saying how proud she is.
“Of what?” I ask.
“Of you being you.”
And I find myself hugging her.
Once we’re done, Mum yells, “Right, champagne! I’m going to be a terrible influence and let you have a glass before you go.” She runs back into the kitchen, powered by her nervous energy.
“You’re a legend,” Mia calls after Mum, then sits down on one of our garden chairs to rub her already‑pinching shoes. “Your mum really is a legend.”
I sit down next to Mia. “I know.”
We sit in silence for a bit, enjoying the feeling of the early‑afternoon sun on our skin. I still can’t quite believe school is over. I’ll never be in that building ever again. Mia, Alexis and I are all going to the sixth‑form college rather than staying on at school, and it can’t start quick enough. There will be no more people treating me like I’m the same person I was in Year Seven. A completely fresh start with my oldest and best friends.
“We really did think we were witches, didn’t we?” I muse, staring at the bottom of the tree where I’d buried Aidan Chambers and remembering that night.
“We totally were,” Mia says. “All of our spells worked. We even resurrected a dog!”
I wag my finger. “Not all of them,” I correct her. “My love spell didn’t work, remember? Aidan Chambers got back together with stupid non‑vegan Jessica Hadley that night when I didn’t show at the party.” I blow up my fringe and remember weirdly feeling nothing when the photo of Jessica and Aidan kissing appeared on the hashtag. “God, he was a wanker,” I add.
“Hmm.”
“But if it wasn’t for that spell not working, I’d totally have thought we had powers.”
“Hmm.”
“What’s with all the hmming?” I ask, and drag my attention away from a fuzzy bee to turn to Mia. She’s randomly gone all red. The blushing stands out against her white skin and she won’t look at me.
“What?” I ask. “What is it?”
Mia holds up her hands. “OK, so you have to promise you won’t get mad. God! I totally forgot I’d done that!”
“Done what? What the hell? Mia? What is it?”
“Promise you won’t get mad.”
“About something that happened over two years ago?”
“Promise?” Mia demands.
“Yes, jeez! What did you do?”
She doesn’t reply straight away but starts scanning around the garden, using her hands to shield her eyes from the sun.
“What?” I ask. “What is it?”
Mum’s voice rolls out from the kitchen. “Just putting it on some ice in the sink – five minutes till champagne o’clock.”
Mia stands suddenly and hoists her dress up to walk over to the garden shed. She comes back holding a mucky trowel and then squats by the tree and starts digging.
I stand up. “What the hell are you doing? You’re going to ruin your dress.”
“The thing is,” Mia says, ignoring me as she dislodges a lump of soil. I stand up to join her and scoot to one side to avoid getting muddy. “You must understand that my intentions were right. You were so sad after your dad left, and even sadder after Aidan, and I just wanted you to realise how great you are.”
I shake my head as Mia lifts up another wormy clod of soil.
“Why the hell are you digging up the garden?” I say.
“Do you not remember the love spell?” Mia asks. “How you had to bury a photo of him?”
“I don’t know. I guess … why … what …?”
But I don’t finish because Mia’s holding up a filthy bit of silk. She flicks it to one side, takes out a very mouldy photo and holds it up. I gasp.
The photo is of me.
Me.
It’s my half of the photo I took of me and Aidan. My face.
Not Aidan’s face.
“I swapped it when your eyes were closed,” Mia says, shrugging and putting the trowel down. “I thought it was more important that you learn to love yourself. To cast a spell that made you realise what you are worth rather than giving all your power to a stupid boy.”
I reach out and take the photo, stunned. There. There I am. Young Year Nine Sophia, looking fragile and unsure of myself, like I didn’t deserve to be holding my cheek next to the boy who was supposed to be buried under this tree.
“I don’t know if I should be mad or not,” I say.
“I am sorry,” Mia replies. “I sort of forgot I’d swapped the photo halves until now.”
My mouth drops open. “Hang on, does this mean all our spells did work after all? I mean, I did learn to love myself that night. And the dog. And you got help and stopped hurting yourself.”
Mia raises both eyebrows. “Maybe. Who knows?”
I feel a chill even though it’s boiling hot. I thought that evening was a joke, just young girls being silly. But what if we were—
“Guess who’s here?” Mum calls as she arrives on the patio with a tray of full champagne glasses. Alexis stands next to her, looking
like she’s plugged herself into an electric socket. It distracts me from my train of thought.
“Your hair!” I say to Alexis.
“I KNOW! NOBODY BELIEVED IT WAS BAD BECAUSE YOU ALL THINK I’M DRAMATIC, BUT SOMETIMES I AM ACTUALLY ACCURATE, NOT DRAMATIC.”
Mum puts the tray down on the table. “We need photos of this,” she says, laughing. “Come on, let me document this disaster, then you can use my fancy straighteners to mend it.”
Alexis’s hand goes to her crazy head of hair. “I’m not sure I want to document this.”
“I promise you these moments are the ones that you really want to remember,” Mum says. “Now come on. All together. Group shot!”
We all gather under the same birch tree we stood below two years ago. Grown. Wiser. Maybe witches, maybe not. I’m not sure if I’ll cast a spell again. With friends like this by my side, I’m not sure I’ll ever feel the need to.
“Say cheese,” Mum tells us.
“Cheeeeeeeese.”
The camera clicks and freezes us in time. I think of the girl in that photo, buried under the tree, and how much she’d hated herself. I think of how life got so much better when she started to let go of that hatred and let the love come in. And how it was her friends who helped her get there. The friends whose hands are on my back now, pulling me into them, smiling for my manic mum. And I realise I don’t care if we are witches or not. I don’t need to know whether or not we are capable of magic. Because learning to love yourself, and finding people who love yourself too, that’s the real magic.
