“Good idea. Ugh. That was so creepy.”
“I think we need some retail therapy,” Binx suggested. “How about Auntie Anne’s for pretzels, and then Michaels for supplies?”
Ridley gave a thumbs-up. “Agreed.”
They linked arms and headed toward the center of the mall. Binx could hear Ridley quietly repeating “Pleukiokus” with each step, as though she were keeping time or sounding out a rhythm. Binx herself was on heightened alert, side-eyeing each person they passed to see if they were wearing an Antima shoulder patch. (Did Antima wear other symbols, too? She would have to research that.)
At Auntie Anne’s, the two girls ordered their standbys: a cinnamon sugar pretzel for herself and a pepperoni pretzel for Ridley. Then they made their way to Michaels. Michaels was one of their favorite stores because it was the perfect place to buy witchcraft supplies without appearing to buy witchcraft supplies. Cute little glass bottles with cork stoppers were ideal for storing potions. Cool pens were good for writing in grimoires—for Ridley at least, since Binx kept hers entirely on her phone. And of course there were other items that were useful, like candles, beeswax, and bags of gemstone chips.
Binx and Ridley grabbed a couple of shopping carts. Peering around, Binx noted that the store seemed relatively empty, which was a plus… just a couple of moms with their kids and a few Michaels clerks in their cheerful smocks. At the cash register, a woman in a black leather jacket and red Dr. Martens was talking to the cashier. (Binx made a mental note to order boots like that for herself; they would go really well with her new skater dress.)
“Do you want to wander or do you have a shopping list on your phone?” Ridley asked Binx.
“Both. I definitely need some seashells and feathers. I’ve been”—Binx glanced around and lowered her voice—“experimenting with potions that have a bio-cyber interface.”
“Calumnia,” Ridley cut in. “Okay, now we can talk. Explain.”
“So we use herbs, flowers, and other plants for potions, right? And other natural, biological ingredients like beetle wings and… oh, snap, remember when we used Kyle Morrison’s grody-toady toenail clippings to try to create a new type of polymorph potion? That was epic.”
“Ew. Of course I remember. It was a complete fail. Go on.”
“The bio-cyber interface will happen if I’m able to link up my cyber capabilities”—Binx held up her phone—“with real-life stuff like seashells, feathers, toenails, plants, cat whiskers, whatever. Like with nanotechnology, when scientists can literally change the molecules in your body by inserting you with point-one-micrometer nanite bots and then remote-controlling those bots with external computers?”
“I still don’t know what that means. You’re talking sci-fi gibberish.”
“No, I’m not. I’ll send you some links about nanotech, you should read up, and then you’ll understand. Your problem is, your magical mind-set is outdated. You’re so stuck in the olden days with your palm-reading and numerology and all that Gen-Grandma craft. You’re insanely smart—what’s your GPA these days, like six-point-five?—and you like science, right? You need to get with the program.”
“Maybe. I’m more of a traditional girl, though. I like the grandma stuff from Callixta’s book. Did ever I tell you that I have an antique Ouija board? It was a present from my aunt Viola, and I keep it hidden in my desk at home.”
“Hmm. Well, I invented a magical Ouija board app that’ll blow your Ouija board out of the water.”
“You’re on!”
“I shall hold you to it!”
They meandered through the aisles, past the picture frames and the unfinished-wood birdhouses and the early display of Halloween decorations. (Ridley picked up a couple of plastic skulls.) Binx eyed two skeins of yarn—one violet-purple and one charcoal-gray—and reminded herself to come back for them sometime soon. (She planned to crochet beanies and fingerless gloves for her witch sisters, for Christmas.) When they reached the aisle with the feathers, Binx tossed several bags into her cart: duck, turkey, ostrich, and pheasant, dyed and undyed. She also grabbed half a dozen peacock feathers and two long red boas.
She tucked a peacock feather behind Ridley’s ear and draped one of the boas around her neck. “Very glam!”
Ridley struck a supermodel pose. “Why, thank you!”
Binx draped the second boa around her own neck as they went off in search of seashells. They looped back to the front of the store and finally found the seashells near the bins of rainbow-colored fake flowers.
Binx added several bags of assorted small seashells to her growing pile and a couple of large white-and-pink conch shells. She considered a bag of dried brown starfish. “Starfish aren’t shells, are they?”
“Nope. They’re echinoderms.”
“Do you know if they have special properties? Never mind, let me look it up in my grimoire.” Binx swiped at her phone. “Okay, got it! So according to these notes, starfish are associated with the heavens and with instinct and intuition and a ton of other stuff. They make good amulets or charms if you’re sick or hurt or need renewal. Plus, there’s the pentagram shape, which has all sorts of mystical meanings.”
Her phone trilled and she glanced at it as Ridley pulled her own out of her pocket.
“It’s Greta again,” Binx announced. “‘I just met Iris, and she’s definitely one of us,’” she read out loud. “‘She was getting harassed by Orion and Axel and Brandon.’ Oh no! ‘I invited her to come to one of our meetings.’ Um, hello? Maybe you could have, like, asked us first? ‘BTW, Iris thinks that 1415 is a code for the word “no.”’ No what? And how does she know this, exactly?”
Ridley didn’t answer.
“Earth to Ridley!” Binx elbowed her.
“A-hem.” Ridley elbowed her back. “I want to check out cupcake pans, do you want to check out cupcake pans?”
“What? Are you mental? Why would I want to check out—”
“Hi, Ms. O’Shea! How are you?” Ridley called out loudly.
The new history sub? Binx coughed and slid her phone into
