Page 1 of Practically Magic

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New post from page administrator: Halloween is less than a week away! Comment below if you’ll be welcoming trick-or-treaters and what candy kids can expect. (Tip: Get good candy. No shade, but we all remember Abe Henderson of Appletree Lane’s Necco Wafers Fail of Halloween 2024.)

“Everyone grab a partner,” Mr. Ruth says. “Remember, whoever comes up with the best Halloween display will have it featured in the town green! And yes, you’ll get five extra points added to your lowest test score.”

My best friend, Laney, steps up next to me, like she always does, but I subtly shake my head. Laney and I could totally crush this competition, and while I’m never one to say no to extra credit, right now there’s something more important than that.

But that something is currently talking to Zara Patel. I’ll have to move quickly if I want to be lab partners with him.

I’ve been waiting all month to find a time to ask Colton Croft to come to my Halloween party. The note that I passed him in history had a perfect message that was equal parts flirty and confident, but when Mrs. Hullman slammed the door, it went flying directly into the trash. When I tried waving him down in gym class, a tenth grader mistook my gesturing as an invitation to chuck the basketball at my head. Even once I was on the floor, Colton Croft didn’t even look at me.

But this time, it’s going to work. I’m going to get Colton Croft to notice me. We’re going to crush this experiment, have it enshrined on the town green, and he’s going to come to my Halloween party, where he’ll realize that I’m the girl he’s been looking for, and we’ll get married and finally unite the two oldest families in Mystic Hollow.

I just need to get to the lab bench before Zara sits down next to him.

Colton is so cute, you’d think someone designed him on Canva. He’s got expressive blue eyes, a strong jawline, and killer blond hair that I can picture running my fingers through. Plus, Colton is funny, charming, town royalty (his dad is mayor), and our star quarterback. Is it at all a surprise I’d been in love with him forever? Or, you know, technically a year?

“Don’t tell me you’re going for dry ice,” a voice mutters behind me.

“Get out of my way, Powell,” I bite back. The last thing I need is Zach Powell blocking me here as well. He’s been a tenth of a GPA point ahead of me all year, thanks to taking a second language as a senior—of course he’s going to score straight A’s at freshman-level French.

But the extra time spent swerving around Zach—who happens to be infuriatingly tall—is all it takes. Zara slips onto the stool beside Colton.

“Katherine,” Mr. Ruth says. “Who’s your partner?”

“I—” I gesture toward Colton, who is helping Zara put on her goggles. She giggles. I grit my teeth.

“I’ll work with Kat,” Zach offers.

“I’ll work alone,” I say at the same time.

Mr. Ruth frowns. “You need a lab partner. Two heads are better than one. We haven’t had a student win on their own since . . . well, your sister.”

Now I’m definitely not working with Zach.

“In fact,” Mr. Ruth continues, raising his voice, “don’t bother trying anything with dry ice. Harriet Hadley’s exemplary display of sublimation two years ago—”

I snatch up the dry ice. Zach raises a brow at me. “Sure that’s a good idea, Hadley?”

“Yes,” I say shortly, stepping up to the only empty lab bench. Unfortunately, that means Zach has to follow me. He helps himself to a pair of goggles, tangling them in his curls as he tries to get them over his normal glasses. When he holds out a pair to me, they knock into my nose—I was staring at Colton again.

They seem to be making some sort of bright green slime. Zombie brains? Colton is laughing, flicking it toward Zara, who shrieks and tries to shield her curtain of long, dark hair.

“Mr. Ruth already said your sister did it best—”

I might growl at Zach. That might be the noise coming out of my mouth. While Laney would hold up her hands in defeat, Zach only glares right back at me.

“Need I remind you,” I continue, digging in the drawer for a beaker. I’m not sure what I’ll do with the dry ice that will be better than what my perfect sister did—considering Mr. Ruth is still extolling her Halloween display—but I need to do something better. “I won the science fair last year.”

Zach folds his arms over his chest, blocking out the “FurReal” logo on his tee. It’s the name of the animal rescue “initiative” he started at Mystic Hollow High this year. Not a club. An initiative. Apparently, it looks better on college applications. At least that’s what I overheard him bragging to someone. I’m in five clubs—my sister was only in four—but I’ve never created one. I’m not sure that group silent reading sessions or candle making would look quite as impressive on my résumé, so what’s the point?

“You won on a technicality,” Zach goes on. “My tornadic activity experiment came in second by less than a tenth of a point.” I snort. “Seriously, Hadley, we should do our own thing.”

If he wants to go to battle, my armor is ready. “We are not doing anything. Mr. Ruth just said we can enter on our own. My sister did it.”

“You aren’t Harry Hadley,” Zach points out, and I rip the next drawer open so sharply that the beakers nearly break, hot anger scorching down my neck. Laney shoots me a concerned look from where she’s paired up with Zach’s old lab partner. I shake my head subtly, and she points over at Colton, who is “helping” Zara stir their slime from behind, his arms around her like a bear hug.