“I’m going, are you going?”
“Yup.”
“Binx and Ridley are going, too. I’m not sure about Div and her girls.”
“I don’t like funerals.”
“I don’t like them, either. I don’t like goodbyes. But we need to honor our witch sister. Maybe we can walk over together?”
“Yes, please!”
The two girls sat in silence, petting the black cat, watching the sun trying to break through the gray morning mist. When a car backfired down the street, Greta jumped and let out a little yelp. “Sorry, sorry,” she murmured, and touched her raw amethyst pendant. Iris wished desperately that she could redo their conversation. She shouldn’t have told Greta about the dream; for that matter, she wished she could redo the last few hours so she wouldn’t have had the dream to begin with. Things were scary and awful enough with Penelope’s death, the shadow messages, the Antima, and everything else. They didn’t need the dark storm cloud of long-ago witch-hunters—executioners—hovering over them, too.
28 DRESS CODE
Magic cannot cure all Ills.
(FROM THE GOOD BOOK OF MAGIC AND MENTALISM BY CALLIXTA CROWE)
Ridley stood in front of her closet trying to figure out what to wear for Penelope’s funeral. She owned two suits—the black one she’d worn for Daniel’s funeral and the navy one that was her go-to recital/audition/competition suit. She also owned two identical white dress shirts and a black-and-blue-and-sort-of-gray paisley tie that matched both paradigms.
Of course, it didn’t ultimately matter which suit she chose, since she would be changing outfits (as well as the rest of her appearance) between here and Sorrow Point Cemetery (she’d already picked out a private spot, not in the Seabreeze development, to cast her muto spell). So what should that outfit be? A black dress? Or maybe a pair of black slacks, a blazer, and a white silk blouse?
Ridley felt a headache coming on. Massaging her temples, she stared at her reflection in the slightly warped closet mirror. After things had calmed down, she would go back to working on the vertero and dissimulatio spells. She couldn’t wait.
A knock on the door. “You in there, son?”
Her father poked his head through the door. He was dressed in his paramedic uniform, and he was carrying a steel thermos and a brown paper bag. “I’m off to the hospital for a few hours. Do you want me to give you a ride to the Hart girl’s funeral? It starts at four, right?”
“No, thanks. I thought this was your day off?”
“Rami had a family emergency, so I’m covering the rest of his shift.”
“Oh, okay. Is Harmony still over at her friend’s?”
“No, she’s downstairs. Your mom’s playing with her.”
Ridley blinked. “Say what?”
“They’re having a snack, too. Your mom made her famous grilled cheese. Make sure to say bye before you go.”
“Momma is with her,” Ridley said skeptically.
Her father’s face hardened. “I don’t want to hear any disrespect from you.”
“I’m not disrespecting her. It’s just…” Ridley took a deep breath. Was her father choosing to ignore the fact that his wife had been MIA for over a year? Guess we’re not going to discuss that particular reality. “I’m glad she’s up, and I’m glad she’s hanging out with Harmony. I’ll say hi and bye before I take off.”
“All right, then. I’ll see you at dinner. Thought I’d grill some burgers.”
“Sounds good. I might be late, depending on how long the… yeah, so I’ll let you know.”
After her father left, Ridley dressed quickly (she chose the navy suit; she didn’t want Momma seeing her in the black suit), ran a pick through her hair (again, for Momma’s benefit), grabbed her backpack, and gave Agent Smith a handful of timothy hay. She also chose her daily angel card from Daniel’s Cleveland Browns mug. The card said: Life.
Hmm. A life-themed card made zero sense, given that she was on her way to a funeral. But whatever. The angel cards must know something; they were usually smarter than she was.
Still, shouldn’t she have selected a card that said The Return of the Missing Mother or something like that?
Downstairs, Ridley found Momma and Harmony playing Barbies on the living-room floor. Barbies with a variety of hairstyles and skin colors as well as Barbie clothes, shoes, accessories, furniture, and even a car (pink, one wheel missing) were scattered all over the carpet, mixed up with random other items like Legos and broken crayons and dried-up balls of Play-Doh. Pandy was asleep on the couch, his face twitching and his tail thumping.
Momma was wearing jeans and a Browns sweatshirt. She’d put on lipstick and a little mascara. Not exactly the old Joyce Ibrahim Stone, City Hall communications director, who owned a closetful of power suits and heels… but also not the Joyce Ibrahim Stone who’d been living (or not living?) for the past year-plus in pretty much the same powder-blue robe and nightgown.
“Momma?” Ridley said.
Joyce glanced up from the Barbie pile. “Don’t you look so handsome. Why’re you all dressed up? Do you have a violin recital today?”
“No, it’s… it’s this thing for my friend.” Ridley didn’t want to say funeral. “I won’t be gone long. Unless you need me to stay?”
“Harmony and I will be fine. Are you hungry? There’s an extra grilled cheese sandwich on the stove. It might be cold, though, so you should put it in the microwave for thirty seconds, on low. Keep an eye on it so the cheese doesn’t go melting like lava all over the place.”
“Thanks, Momma, but I already ate.”
Harmony was squeezing one of the Barbies into a sequined red ballgown. She rooted through the messy pile and found a pair of gold vinyl boots. She pulled them over Barbie’s freakishly high-arched feet.
“Isn’t she beautiful? Isn’t she the most beautifulest girl you’ve ever seen?” Harmony said breathlessly.
“Absolutely,” Ridley agreed.
Harmony picked up a doll-sized rhinestone tiara, put it back down, picked up a flower-power headband, and
