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“I didn’t time anything,” I said. “That’s what happened when I said the incantation the first time. The wind, then the candle. At the time, I thought the wind had come down the stairs when Noelle opened the door, but … ”
“There was no wind when we did it,” Ivy said. “Just the cell phones.”
“But my cell phone didn’t ring,” Amberly said, glancing toward her foot where she’d laid her phone on the floor.
“No. It wouldn’t. Because we used the candles this time,” I said, feeling impatient.
“So why didn’t my candle light?” Amberly asked, her bottom lip puffed out petulantly.
“I don’t know,” I replied.
“And mine’s barely doing anything,” Portia said, waving it around like a Fourth of July sparkler. “WTF?”
“I don’t know,” I said again.
“So what does it mean?” Kiki asked, her gaze intense. “Are we witches or not?”
“Maybe we’re witches and they’re not,” London said, waving a finger at Tiffany and Amberly. “Because, you know, our candles lit and theirs didn’t.”
“Or maybe the factory that makes the quote magically relighting candles unquote made a couple of defectives,” Tiffany shot back.
“Tiff, we got the candles at Pottery Barn,” Noelle said flatly. “As far as I know, they don’t do trick candles.”
“So what does that make me?” Portia said. “Some kind of weak-ass witch because my candle barely lit?”
“Maybe you guys just aren’t believers,” Kiki blurted out.
“You’ve got that right,” Tiffany retorted.
Suddenly everyone was talking at once, throwing out theories, debating the reality of what they’d seen. I closed my eyes, the voices colliding and roiling inside of me, stretching my nerves to their breaking point.
And then, suddenly, a whistle split the air. I opened my eyes to find Noelle standing there with her thumb and index finger stuck inside her mouth.
“Everyone shut up!” she shouted.
They did, of course.
“Reed,” she said, turning to me, holding her candle casually at her side. “This is your baby. What do you suggest we do now?”
I breathed in, counted to ten, then swallowed back my confusion, my excitement, my annoyance, and my fear—which was a mighty large pill to swallow. Everyone looked at me, hanging on my next words. I recalled Eliza’s torn diary pages in my head and knew exactly what we should do.
“I think we should try out some of the basic spells.”
“This is one of the first spells Eliza and her friends tried,” I said as we all gathered around the small round dining table near the bay window in Noelle’s living room. It was a spot where she liked to eat croissants and sip black coffee while reading the Style section of the New York Times and looking out over the park, or nurse a hangover with the blinds drawn, depending on the day. Ivy, Kiki, Constance, London, and I leaned into the table, while the others crammed in behind us. Tiffany was over by the wall, scrolling through photos on her camera, the picture of indifference. I wondered if she was really uninterested, or if she was just posing as such. But if this spell worked, she would be convinced. All of them would.
If it worked.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” London demanded, pressing her hands onto the surface of the polished table.
I looked down at the ornate silver spoon we’d laid in the center of an old-fashioned doily. Was I really going to try to make the thing float? Suddenly I felt conspicuously unworthy, like the first time I’d played Grand Theft Auto with my brother’s friends and kept driving my car into pylons while they cackled at me.
“Maybe Ivy should try it,” I said, taking a step back. “We already know you can move things with your mind.”
“Allegedly,” Noelle snorted, fiddling with her hair.
“Fine. I’ll try it,” Ivy said curtly.
She stood so close to the table the edge made a dent in her plaid gabardine skirt. Her dark eyes squinted down at the spoon. I pressed my lips together and crossed my fingers at my sides.
