Spells

was as if Laurel had never showed up that day, which was somehow worse. Their relationship seemed to increasingly revolve around ignoring problems in hopes that they would go away. But they never did.

“Where’s Dad?” Laurel asked.

Her dad shook his paper from the couch, just out of sight through the living room doorway. “I’m here,” he said distractedly.

“She blossomed,” David called.

Laurel brought one hand to her forehead as she heard her father get quickly to his feet. “Oh, yeah? Let’s see.”

“Tattletale,” she whispered to David.

Her mom grabbed a canvas tote and passed by as her dad was coming through the doorway. “I’m headed to the store,” she said, her eyes avoiding his.

“But don’t you—?”

“I’m late,” she insisted, though her voice wasn’t sharp. It sounded strange to Laurel, almost like she wanted to stay and couldn’t bring herself to. She and her dad both watched her all the way out the door.

Laurel’s eyes stayed glued on the door, willing it to open; for her mom to come back.

“Whoa,” her dad said, refocusing on Laurel. “That…that’s huge.”

“I did tell you,” Laurel said, knowing that if she were human her face would be bright red right now. Being a plant was not without advantages.

“Sure. But, I thought…” He scratched the back of his neck. “Honestly, I thought you were exaggerating a little.” He circled Laurel as her embarrassment grew. “How did you hide this from us?”

Excellent timing. “Like this,” she said, pulling her sash off her wrist and binding the petals around her ribs and waist. She pulled her blousy peasant top down over it and dropped her waist-length hair over the whole thing. “Ta-da!”

He nodded. “Impressive.”

“Yeah,” Laurel said, grabbing David’s hand. “Let’s go.”

“What about breakfast?” her dad said as she picked up her backpack off the table.

Laurel shot him a look.

“Sorry, habit.”

“My car or yours?” David asked after Laurel shut the door.

“Yours. Driving with a smooshed blossom can’t be very comfortable.”

“Good point.” David held the passenger door open for her. Even after almost a year, he never forgot.

“Well,” David said, firing up the engine, “we’ve got about half an hour before first bell. Shall we go straight to school?” His hand slid onto her thigh. “Or somewhere else first?”

Laurel smiled as David leaned over and kissed her neck.

“Mmm, I have missed that smell.” His lips traveled up her neck to her jawline.

“David, my dad is peeking through the window at us.”

“That’s okay with me,” he murmured.

“Yeah, ’cause he’s not your dad. Get off!” she said, laughing.

David leaned back and shifted into reverse. “I guess I can hold on till I get a block or two away.” He looked at the house and waved at the small gap in the living room curtains.

“David!”

The gap disappeared.

“You are so bad.”

He smirked. “Your parents love me.”

And they did. Laurel had always thought that would be a good thing. Sometimes, though, she wasn’t so sure.

THIRTEEN

THE NEXT DAY, LAUREL AND CHELSEA SAT ON THE porch swing in front of Laurel’s house, lazily swaying back and forth. “I hate Saturdays,” Chelsea said, her head hanging over one arm of the swing, her eyelids closed against the sun.

“Why?” Laurel asked, similarly draped.

“’Cause boyfriends always have to work.”

“Sometimes you have races.”

“That’s true.”

“And besides, you get to come over and hang out with me. Isn’t that worth something?” Laurel said, poking her.

Chelsea opened her eyes and looked at Laurel skeptically. “You don’t kiss as good as Ryan.”

“You don’t know that,” Laurel said with a smile.

“Not yet,” Chelsea said, leaning toward Laurel.

Laurel swatted at her arm and they both leaned back again, giggling.

“You do have a point,” Chelsea said. “We don’t hang out as much anymore; aside from lunchtime, I mean.”

“And you mysteriously disappear about half the time,” Laurel said with a laugh.

“I’m a busy girl,” Chelsea said in mock defense. “Oh, hey! Ryan’s having a big party at his house next Friday. You and David are invited. It’s the old ‘say good-bye to summer’ thing but minus the cold water, scratchy sand, and smoky fire.”

“He’s a little late,” Laurel said, forgetting that not everyone was hyperaware of the change from summer to fall.

“Meh. Close enough. It’s still a good enough reason to have a party. Ryan has the best party house. Surround sound, big rec room. It’ll be awesome. You guys should come.”

“Sure,” Laurel said, accepting the invitation for the both of them. David wouldn’t mind; she was the one who usually didn’t like late-night things.

“Awesome.” Chelsea squinted at the sun. “Is it five o’clock yet?”

Laurel laughed. “I’d be surprised if it’s even three.”

Chelsea stuck out her bottom lip dramatically. “I miss Ryan.”

“That’s good. You should miss your boyfriend.”

“I used to mock girls who practically swooned when their boyfriends walked by. I always wanted to tell them to grow a personality and stop letting someone else define them. Sometimes I did tell them.”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”

“And now I’m one of them,” Chelsea said with a groan.

“Except that you have a personality.” Chelsea had more personality than almost anyone Laurel knew.

“I hope so. But, seriously, he’s become such a big part of my life.” She lifted her head to look at Laurel again. “Did you know that the two races he’s come to this year have both been personal bests for me? I run faster when he’s around. And I thought I was running as fast as I could before. I’m a scoring runner on our team now. He did that to me!” She put her hand to her forehead and mocked fainting back against the swing. “He’s wonderful.”

“I am so glad, Chelsea. You deserve a great guy, and Ryan seems to really like you.”

“Yeah, he does. Weird, huh?”

Laurel just snorted.

“Do you think we’re moving too fast?” Chelsea asked seriously.

Laurel raised an eyebrow. “Well, that depends. How fast are you moving?”

“Oh, nothing like that,” Chelsea said, waving away her concern. “I mean more like maybe I’m getting in too deep too quickly.”

“How so?”

“I was registering for the November SAT the other day—”

“November?” Laurel interrupted. “How come November? David and I aren’t taking it till spring.”

“Chronic overachiever,” Chelsea said dismissively. “Anyway, it asked which schools I wanted my scores sent