Page 4 of The Mechanics of Broomstick Racing

Safer in the air? She wanted to scream at him. No, not at him. Zephyr just wanted to scream. Period. Her helmet felt too heavy, her jacket too tight.

She knew that if she stayed a second longer, Neil would start asking questions. Questions like “Are you okay?” or, better yet, “What is wrong with you? Didn’t you use to be somebody?”

So, she simply snapped her face shield down and grabbed her broom. She took off without another word or a glance backward. Fine. Neil could wait for her every morning if he had nothing better to do. That didn’t mean she had to show up and take her scolding like a good girl.

Pumpkin Hollow was small. She’d redraw her mail route to avoid him until after his garage opened. He’d be too busy doing his actual job to criticize her flying then. Easy.

Chapter 3

Avoiding Neil’s morning lecture really screwed up her route’s efficiency. Pumpkin Hollow was a tiny town, but Zephyr still stared at the map for hours until she fell asleep. Dale had to wake her, and she had drooled on Main Street until it was illegible. There was no way she’d be beating her time tomorrow.

Unless fate was on her side. And the next day, when Zephyr zipped past the early breakfast rush at Frank’s diner, she saw an opportunity.

Standing outside, one hand on the diner door, was Neil. He held it open for a dark-haired man carrying a motorcycle helmet Zephyr desperately needed to know the brand of. She needed a helmet that didn’t have her name and racing number, 33, plastered on it.

Her sights settled back on Neil, and a mischievous thought appeared. If she could make Neil’s delivery here and now, she would save so much time on her route. Maybe even beat her top time. As long as the town gossip, Gertrude, didn’t catch her again. Yesterday, the old witch and her equally old and crusty white dog had added forty-five minutes to Zephyr’s time. All Zephyr had to show for it was Gertrude’s insistence that when she had last used her telescope (which was for stargazing and not spying on her neighbors, thank you very much), she had witnessed a very handsome ghost creeping around the cemetery.

Zephyr adjusted course, pulling her broom to an abrupt stop before Neil. He let go of the door, startled by the woman hovering a few inches above his head.

“Good morning,” Zephyr sang, and her enthusiasm set him on guard.

Neil narrowed his eyes. “Is it going to be a good morning, Zephyr? For both of us?”

“You’re paranoid,” she laughed, already digging into her mailbag. “Cough it up,” she ordered her bag with a shake. “We have a special delivery for Finnegan.”

“Do you finally have my new welder? The one that’s been delayed three times?” He stepped toward her, his excitement keeping him from realizing her evil plan. When Zephyr pulled out a gigantic cardboard box, Neil paled. “Wait, I can’t carry that. Do not give that to me here.”

The mailbag’s magic made all her deliveries weightless until she handed them over. Zephyr jiggled the oversized box just out of his reach. “It’s only a few blocks back to your shop, Finnegan. I’ve seen your arms. This’ll be a walk in the park for you. Literally. I genuinely suggest cutting through the park.”

He pushed the box back towards her. “You can’t make deliveries wherever you want! And—wait, what did you say about my arms?”

“Neil!”

Zephyr glanced down the sidewalk, watching Tawny and Karah making their way to the diner. If they had both left the Post, that meant Lyle had gotten stuck inside. “Lyle didn’t make it out before dawn? Again?”

“Nope,” Karah replied with a grin. “He was talking to Tawny this morning and got distracted.”

“Distracted by those big brown eyes,” Zephyr said.

“We were talking about work,” Tawny cut in. She adjusted her round glasses with a sniff.

“Sure,” Karah and Zephyr both teased.

During their conversation, Neil had tried to slip into the diner. Zephyr caught his collar with one hand and spun him around. “Not so fast. You have a delivery.”

“I’m not dragging that back to the shop,” he argued. “Is this even legal?”

“Stow the package and have breakfast with us, Zephyr,” Tawny offered. “The pancakes have bits of bacon in them. Or strawberries. Pecans?”

“I’ll consider it…” Zephyr decided. “If Neil says I win today.”

He grunted. “Win what?”

“Just say I win. Come on,” she needled him. “Say it for me.”

“No.” He scowled up at her. Gods, he had perfect hair again. With some concentrated magic wind, she could fix that, but that would really be childish. Neil added, “I’m not saying that when you look like it’s going to get you off.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know what that looks like?”