He frowns, swipes at it, and misses. “Have I? Where?”
Calida lets out a squeal that bangs against my mind and launches herself across the room like a glittery missile, twining around my legs.
‘CASIE!’She yells. ‘You’re home! We’re making friendship bracelets! Taylortoldus to.’
I blink. “Taylor... told you?” What are these two using? Maybe they’ve been breathing in fumes for too long.
Flint groans, holding a bracelet in one hand and struggling to collect bead containers before Calida’s tail knocks them all over. I kneel to scratch under her chin, and her thoughts batter against mine like hail.
‘Oh my GODS, I was playing on your tablet and then I foundher. Taylor – her majesty – Swift.And she sings and she tells people to make bracelets and trade them and the girls bring like,HUNDREDSof them and she goes from city to city like some kind of sparkly goddess ofJOY.’
I blink at the speed of her thoughts, my grin growing with every sentence. She’s practically vibrating with joy, dancing in place like she’s had six espresso shots and a glitter IV. Flint meets my eyes over her head. There’s amusement, yes, but also something warm. Something soft. Despite how it looks, it doesn’t feel like a mess. It feels like home.
Finally, the smell of burning plastic registers.
“Flint?” I ask, setting my bag down cautiously. “Is something on fire?”
“No,” he replies, solemnly, “but I did melt one of the cords trying to seal the knot. We don’t speak of it.”
I glance down and feel my mouth drop open.
The coffee table looks like it’s been through war. There’s a sticky granola bar next to a spool of pink string. Alphabet beads are everywhere and I’m pretty sure that tiny pizza charm is glued to the tabletop. Near where Calida now stands is a haphazard, half-finished, proudly chaotic bracelet that says TAYLOR-4EVR-CASIE-CALIDA-FLINT.
I take a closer look at Flint, who is holding another semi-completed bracelet in his lap. I squint.
“Is that a tiny pink sword?”
He lifts it like it’s a sacred relic. “It’s for you.”
My breath stutters. Yes, I’m ridiculous. Sue me. “You made me one?”
“I didn’t want to forget,” he says simply, holding up his own wrist.
The bracelet there is purple and silver, delicate in contrast to the ink and scar of his skin. It spells C-A-S-I-E encased between a heart and what looks to be a tiny ink bottle charm. He’s wearing my name.
The tension in my body – the lingering tremor from walking home alone, Brett’s shadow still curling in on the edges of our lives – melts like ice in the sun.
Calida flaps into the air, glitter storming off her wings. ‘Alright! Casie’s here now and she needs to make one! Alphabet beads incoming!’
I’m not sure how, but a container flies at me with frightening accuracy.
“Alright,” I say, stretching. “I want in. Thanks for the letter beads—I have things to say.”
‘Make mine say ‘Snaccident Queen!’’she demands. ‘Also yours needs to have a cat – even if it isn’t giant.’
I catch Flint watching me again. Not amused or embarrassed – just watching, like I’m something he’s anchoring himself to. He says nothing as I take a seat next to him, stringing beads, but his knee brushes mine and stays there. As we settle in, the three of us cocooned in warmth and music and beautiful chaos, Flint finally murmurs, “This is a magickal trap. I keep accidentally spelling ‘FART’ instead of ‘Flint.’”
I snort so hard I almost drop my beads.
“You’re hopeless,” I giggle, leaning into his shoulder. “Let’s switch. I’ll fix yours if you help me find charms.”
Calida perks up. ‘A sword for Flint, a book for Casie and a sparkly heart for me.’
We string them together – me, a girl who was losing faith in magick; a warrior trying to pretend like the softness in his hands is new; and her, a tiny dragon who thinks Taylor Swift is a divine messenger of friendship.
Calida creates another bracelet for Flint that says “Mostly Fireproof”. Rather than laugh, he very seriously tells her “I will wear it into battle.”
‘You better,’she says fiercely, ‘or I might cry actual fire tears.’
