Page 41 of A Witch's Guide to Surviving Halloween
“Fine,” Lucy bites back, balancing her drink on her criss-crossed legs, her spine so straight it could be made of steel. “You aren’t Grandma.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re bending over backward to prove to this whole town that you can fill her shoes, when—in reality—you’re hating every second. You don’t owe them anything, especially not your sanity. I think you’d be better off hiding here for the rest of the festival and telling them all to screw themselves. Or better yet, let me do it for you.”
I narrow my eyes at her, refusing to show the way her words spear me right through the chest.
“If you hate this town so much, then why are you still here?” I spit at her, and I can tell by the way her gaze darkens that the words hit their mark. “Oh, that’s right! Because?—”
“Amelia,” she cuts me off, her tone slicing across my skin like a dried corn stalk leaf. “I love you. Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
I promptly shut my mouth so hard my teeth clack, holding back the rest of my sentence. I take a moment, running my hands through my black hair and my nails across my scalp as I breathe deep. A few heartbeats later, I’m drained of all my fight.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, just loud enough for her to hear.
The worm peeks around the edge of a book, pointedly turning its attention on Lucy. “Why haven’t you left?”
With a flick of her hand, Lucy sends the book in my lap back onto the shelf, hiding the worm from view and forcing it back to wherever it goes during the day.
The three of us fall into a heavy silence, punctuated by Lucy taking a long, loud sip of her drink. After what feels like an eternity, Oliver clears his throat and straightens on his stool, using his feet to push against the bottom rung and twist back and forth like a little kid who can’t sit still.
“So . . .” he starts, trying and failing to sound casual. “Where should this all take place?”
“Where should what take place?” I ask, keeping my tone as friendly as possible.
“The bread-breaking ritual.”
“I don’t know,” I admit after a moment.
Lucy hums with thought, swirling her hand over the top of her cup to slowly stir the contents. “Why not the woods?”
“Isn’t that a little too . . . horror movie? Two girls wandering off into the forest on the edge of town with a strange man they met a few days ago?”
Oliver’s brows furrow with exaggerated offense, holding a hand to his chest like a damsel in an old-timey movie.
“Maybe a little,” Lucy admits.
“Crying a little inside over here.” Oliver sulks, though neither of us pays him much attention.
“But it’s within the bounds of the magic and far enough from the town square that maybe the rebound from a failed attempt won’t cause any chaos.”
I contemplate the suggestion. “Okay, that’s fair.”
“So, it’s settled then? I’ll meet you two tonight after you sneak away from the movies.”
“Do I get a say?” Oliver glances between us and waves a forlorn hand in the air to get our attention.
Lucy and I look at each other for a brief moment before returning our attention to him.
“No,” we say in unison.
Oliver takes a long sip of his matcha before setting the half-empty cup on the counter. “I get the feeling I’m going to need a lot more caffeine to keep up with the two of you.”
Chapter Seventeen
The moment hot, buttery popcorn hits my tongue, I have to suppress a moan, savoring the salty crunch. I side-eye the bowl of cheese-topped chili and the bag of miniature fried donuts, piled high with cinnamon sugar, balanced in Oliver’s hands. “I can’t believe you aren’t getting popcorn. I think that’s a sin or something.”
“I like to switch it up sometimes.” He lifts the bag to his mouth, grabs the topmost donut with his teeth, and draws the whole thing into his mouth.
