Page 2 of Death and Do-Overs

“No need to fret, Marnie,” he said, surprisingly remembering my name as well.

Only I wasn’t Marnie anymore. I was Mar. I resisted the urge to correct him.

I also resisted the urge to stare at his vigorously thrashing lip noodles.

“Do I look like I’m fretting?” I asked, because I seriously doubted it. I kept my discomfort, along with every other emotion, locked down in my pinky toe. There, no one could seeit, which meant no one could use that emotion to manipulate me.

“Not exactly fretting,” Caspian said. “But you have the look of someone who isseeingfor the first time.”

Ah, that. I guessed it was impossible to completely suppress every ounce of outward expression, try as I might. I forced my gaze away from his mouth and settled at the thick bush of purple hair growing across his brow. I made a noncommittal noise.

The last time I was at the market, I hadn’t experienced magic yet. When you don’t believe in magic, you don’t see magic. That’s the rule.

But then Imogen had bodysnatched me, I’d confronted her, and I’d split in two.

From that moment forward, there were two Marnies. Me, and Nie.

Everything changed.

I wasn’t alone anymore, or at least I wasn’t supposed to be. I’d finally found someone I could completely trust.

But a week ago, she left to go on an adventure, leaving me all alone. I’d bought her a set of warm gloves as a going away gift. I even told her how happy I was for her, although I hadn’t entirely felt it.

I loved my alone time, usually.

I thrived on seclusion, until recently.

And I wasn’t supposed to be thinking about Nie’s absence, or how it left me feeling hollow and confused. I was supposed to be focusing on the joys of the midnight market.

Which was exactly what I was going to do. Right now.

Now that I’d been exposed to magic, I was able to see things I’d never believed possible. I could see the talking sheep that had haunted Imogen, the undead crow that talked to Wendy, and my next-door neighbor Louisa’s lizard scales.

Here and now, I could see a whole new layer of interest in the market.

I would never admit it out loud, but Imogen was right in her enthusiastic and insistent proclamations—magic was awesome.

Snorfy wedged both feet against Tufty’s round little belly and kicked with a “ya!”

The two tumbled apart, and the prized wrench flew up in the air between them. They both scrambled to their feet and ran at each other like meteors bent on destruction.

“There are five more wrenches in the bin,” Caspian told the pair. “All exceptionally rusty.”

The goblins slowed their rolls, twisted their heads in unison toward Caspian, then bolted toward the bin yelling,“Sssmine!”

The originally coveted wrench fell to the blanket, forgotten. Splinters of rust flaked from the metal and scattered across the fabric like copper glitter.

I took that as my cue to move on and headed back the way I had come.

A huge line snaked its way from the popcorn stand that I, and everyone else apparently, had hoped to patronize. I couldn’t say how long I waited in that line, but even if it took two hours, I knew the wait would be worthwhile.

It totally was. As I stepped away from the cart with my cylinder of buttery carbs, excitement crackled beneath my skin. I strolled between stalls, taking in the sights, and popped a piece of popcorn in my mouth.

Exotic spices spread across my tongue, bringing welcome heat. There was nothing in the world that tasted quite like this, and as far as I knew, no other popcorn that acted like a fortune cookie by offering a kernel of truth scrawled on the paper at the bottom.

I popped another piece of popcorn into my mouth and moved on to the next stall where boxes of old family portraitsfilled one of the tables. I pulled out a photo of a family where everyone, including the parents, was crying.

Nie would love all of this. I knew with certainty, because she was me, and I adored every bit of the market, from the strange wares and the stranger patrons to the questionable skewered meats roasting over the fire breath of what looked like a large toad.

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