Spells

“Thanks for reminding me,” Laurel said wryly.

“Sorry, I’m not trying to scare you. But I feel like…I don’t know, like a string getting stretched tighter every day. I keep waiting for something to happen. And it’s just getting worse,” he continued. “I see trolls everywhere. Every time I see an unfamiliar face in sunglasses, I wonder. As big as our tourist season was this summer, you can imagine it was a paranoid couple of months. And with you gone…” He took her wrist and pulled her to him, kissing the top of her blond head. “I’m just glad you’re back.”

“Good.” She wrapped her arms around David’s waist and pushed up onto her tiptoes for a kiss. It was quite a stretch these days — he was almost a foot taller than her now. He’d grown three inches the last six months and had started lifting weights, too. He hadn’t said as much, but Laurel suspected his confidence had taken a beating from their encounter with Barnes. Whatever his motivation, she couldn’t help but appreciate the results. She liked his stature; it made her feel safe and protected.

If she could only get the hang of the things she’d learned at Avalon, maybe she’d feel even safer.

Chelsea squealed and threw her arms around Laurel, who laughed into her hair, realizing just how much she had missed her friend.

“I was going to come over yesterday,” Chelsea said, “but I promised myself I’d give you a day with David first. He’s been miserable without you.”

Laurel grinned. She rather approved of that.

“He hung out with me almost every day and talked about you nonstop for the first month, but then I started hanging out with Ryan, and David got all weird, so I haven’t seen him as much the last couple of weeks. Come upstairs,” Chelsea said as a tangle of limbs crashed into the entryway where they had been standing. “The last week before school is always the worst,” she said, pointing to her brothers wrestling on the floor.

Laurel couldn’t tell for sure whether it was a real fight or just a fun one. In either case, it was probably safest to get out of the way. She followed the still chattering Chelsea upstairs to her faerie-bedecked bedroom. It always made Laurel a little uneasy to be in there, with traditional butterfly-winged faeries staring out at her from the walls, the ceiling, and the spines of Chelsea’s impressive collection of faerie books.

“So, you don’t look very tan,” Chelsea said, pausing for a response.

“Uh,” Laurel said, totally off guard. “What?”

“Tan,” Chelsea repeated. “You don’t look very tan. After almost two months at a wilderness retreat I figured you would have gotten pretty tan.”

Laurel had almost forgotten the cover story David had invented — that she’d been on a wilderness retreat. A retreat that, conveniently, had no phone or internet access. Laurel felt awful lying to Chelsea, but Chelsea was just too forthright for keeping secrets. Ironically, it was one of her best characteristics. “Um, sunscreen,” Laurel said elusively. “Lots and lots of sunscreen.”

“And hats, apparently,” Chelsea said dryly.

“Yeah. So tell me about you and Ryan,” she said, anxious to change the subject.

Chelsea suddenly found something very interesting to study on the carpet.

Laurel laughed. “Chelsea, are you blushing?”

Chelsea laughed nervously and shrugged.

“You like him?” Laurel prodded.

“I do. I never thought I would, but I do.”

“That’s awesome,” Laurel said sincerely. “So…are you guys officially together yet?”

“How do you get ‘officially together’?” Chelsea asked. “Do you have to have some kind of special conversation where you say, ‘Oh, gee, I like you and you like me, and we like to make out, so now let’s be official’? How does that work?”

Laurel’s eyes widened. “You make out with Ryan?”

“I think so.”

“Either you do, or you don’t,” Laurel said with an eyebrow raised.

“Well, we kiss a lot. Does that count?”

“Not only does that count, I think that makes you officially together.”

“Oh, good,” Chelsea said with a sigh of relief. “I was all stressed out because we hadn’t had any special talk or anything.”

“Kissing is better than talking,” Laurel said with a grin. “So how did this happen?”

Chelsea shrugged. “It just did. Well, kind of. I mean, you know I liked David hardcore for forever.”

Laurel nodded but thought it best not to actually say anything.

“It got to the point where he was all I could see. Ever. And I hated that you were with him, but I loved that you were both happy, and it was awful being so torn.”

Laurel scooted a little closer and laid a hand on Chelsea’s arm. It was a subject they’d never broached before, despite Laurel knowing it must have been difficult for her. Chelsea smiled and shrugged. “So I decided I needed to just stop. Stop everything David. Stop thinking about him, stop watching him, stop even liking him.”

“How did you do that?” Laurel asked, thinking instantly of her issues with Tamani.

“I don’t know, really. I just did. It was weird. I’ve spent years trying so hard to get David’s attention, to make him like me. And it was like I couldn’t see anything else. And then I didn’t so much make myself stop focusing on David, as I let myself focus on other people. And it was really cool.” Her eyes widened dramatically. “There are guys everywhere; did you know that?”

Laurel laughed. “I’m afraid I’m still pretty focused on David.”

“You should be,” Chelsea said seriously. “So, anyway, Ryan and I started hanging out more and then he asked me to a movie and then to lunch and soon we were hanging out all the time.”

“And kissing.”

“And kissing,” Chelsea agreed enthusiastically. “Ryan is a great kisser.”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “Now there’s something I really wanted to know,” she said sarcastically.

“Ah, come on — everyone wonders.”

“Do not!”

“Sure. I’ve always wondered what kind of a kisser David is.”

“Um, that’s one of those questions you’re not supposed to ask.”

Chelsea laughed. “I didn’t ask. I just said I’ve always wondered.”

“That’s asking.”

“Is not.” She leaned back against her headboard. “’Course, you could tell me anyway.”

“Chelsea!”

“What? I told you.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Technicality.”

“I’m not telling.”

“That’s code for he sucks.”

“He does not suck.”

“Aha!”

Laurel sighed. “You are so weird.”

“Yeah,” Chelsea said with a grin, tossing her springy curls. “But you love me.”

Laurel laughed. “Yes, I do.” She leaned over and tipped her head onto Chelsea’s shoulder. “And I’m glad you’re happy.”

“I’d be happier if you told me what David’s like in bed.”

Laurel looked incredulously at Chelsea, then hit her with a pillow.

TEN

LAUREL SAT CROSS-LEGGED IN HER ROOM, SORTING through school supplies and packing her backpack. David, who had been ready to go back to school for a week now — probably a month, Laurel just didn’t have proof — was sprawled out on her bed, watching her. She pulled a four-pack of multicolored highlighters out of her shopping bag and took a moment to hug them to her chest. “Oh, highlighters,” she crooned melodramatically, “how I missed you!”