Chapter Twenty-Six
Chrys knew she was in trouble.
First, Lily had apologized. Then she’d bought Chrys hot chocolate. Then they’d been squeezed in that closet of a room together. Not even the pungently musty smell of the Historical Society had been able to hide the delicious scent of Lily’s shampoo.
And now, less than twenty-four hours after witch school, Chrys was back in a confined space with Lily.
Lily had insisted on stopping by Black Cat Coffee on the way to their after-school magical study session. Between finding a parking spot and waiting in line, the detour had so far added an extra twenty minutes to her time in Lily’s company, and two coffee splurges in one week was more than Chrys should indulge in, but pride kept her mouth shut about the overpriced drinks. Besides, that overpriced coffee would go so well with the homemade cookies she’d brought for them to snack on.
Chrys glanced over at the very same cookies that were displayed for purchase in Black Cat’s bakery case and reminded herself that she was sharing only because Lily had bought her a hot chocolate last night. Chrys had to do something nice in return or be forever in Lily’s debt.
“Lily, Chrys!”
Mr. Stephens’s voice cut through the coffee shop’s din as Chrys retrieved her PSL from the counter.
“Glad to see you two getting along.”
Presumptuous, Chrys wanted to retort, but she and Lily were standing close enough to each other that it was clear they’d been waiting for their orders together. And wait—since when did they not try to stand as far from each other as possible?
Chrys managed a polite nod, but Lily offered the Historical Society’s librarian a pert smile.
“Nice to see you,”
she said, and he seemed pleased.
Chrys waited until they were back in Lily’s car before speaking again.
“Were you born with that talent, or is it a skill you practice?”
“What?”
Lily asked.
“Kissing people’s asses.”
Lily stiffened, her features turning brittle, and Chrys felt a twinge. She hadn’t really been trying to be mean. She just didn’t understand how anyone could make it to seventeen without becoming jaded.
“If you’re referring to Mr. Stephens, I was being friendly,”
Lily said, coming to a harder-than-necessary stop at an intersection.
“You might try it sometime.”
I brought you cookies! Chrys wanted to snap back, but didn’t. The pumpkin spice aroma had lost some of its appeal.
“I like my way better. A scowl a day keeps the bullshit away.”
“And the people.”
“People are the bullshit.”
“That’s really sad, you know.”
Probably, yes. But everyone had to do what was required to survive.
“That’s why you’re the princess, and I’m …”
The freak? The outcast? The loser? All those options were exhausting.
“The goth girly?”
Lily suggested.
Despite the dip her mood had taken, Chrys couldn’t help but snort.
“How about the evil sorceress?”
“Please, you’re not evil.”
“You called me a demon,”
Chrys pointed out, as the light changed color and Lily began driving again.
“I don’t think you’re actually a demon.”
Lily paused. “Are you?”
“Do I look like a demon?”
“I don’t know. A glamour spell could hide your forked tongue. There’d be no way to tell.”
“Nah, a kiss would give that away.”
A glamour was just an illusion, after all. A kiss would reveal the truth about her tongue, and an image of kissing Lily popped into Chrys’s brain, and oh no. This car, despite being so roomy, was too confined. She could smell Lily’s shampoo, practically taste the mocha on her lips, feel her breath against her cheek.
Lily was quiet. Had she been shocked into silence? Was she mentally gagging? Had her fingers always clutched the steering wheel that tightly, or was she silently freaking out?
Unable to stand it any longer, Chrys pulled her cookie container from her backpack.
“Thank you for the hot chocolate last night. I brought cookies today. Would you like chocolate gingerbread or pumpkin white chocolate chip?”
She hadn’t intended to share until they reached Lily’s house, but desperate times called for distractions, and Chrys held out the container toward Lily.
Since Lily was driving, she gave it only a quick glance.
“Are those from Black Cat?”
“They come from our kitchen first. My mom bakes the ones at Black Cat.”
Lily sucked on her lip.
“I didn’t know your mom made them. Why didn’t you say that the other day?”
Chrys shrugged.
“I thought if I told you, you might spit out the cookie and complain to Black Cat’s manager or something.”
Lily gave her a funny look.
“I would never.”
“Okay.”
Chrys picked a pumpkin white chocolate chip, trying to sound nonchalant.
Lily narrowed her eyes, and nope—it still wasn’t the slightest bit intimidating. But it was kind of cute. Chrys took a large bite of her cookie, hoping these thoughts were the result of low blood sugar.
“I think you can be demon-ic,”
Lily said after a moment.
“There’s a difference.”
“Like, scary?”
“Hardly.”
She spat the word out too quickly and winced.
“Just mean.”
Being called mean was laughably hypocritical coming from Lily. Chrys opened her mouth to point this out—but shut it abruptly. Until this whole war over Luke had started, the meanest thing Lily had ever done to Chrys was ignore her (competing over grades hardly counted). To call Lily out for that would be to admit she’d noticed and been hurt.
“I brought you food,”
Chrys said.
“That’s friendly, not mean. Just like you wanted me to be.”
“True.”
Lily sounded pained to concede it, and shock flashed over her face.
“Oh no. If we’re both being friendly, it’s no wonder Mr. Stephens sounded so pleased at the coffee shop. Their punishment is working.”
“Wow, I hope not.”
Lily giggled.
“Same. I refuse to be that easily manipulated. We should make a pact that once we solve the hex problem, we go back to fighting. Just on principle.”
The very idea that they’d need to plan to fight when Chrys considered this only a temporary alliance made her laugh, too.
“Do we need a pact? It’ll happen naturally.”
“You’re right.”
Lily took a deep breath, her giggles subsiding.
“I am not losing to you for valedictorian.”
“Oh, you are.”
Chrys would make certain of it, as she would with winning the magic fair and its scholarship money.
“You absolutely are.”
The weirdness of the situation—she’d made Lily laugh, and she was laughing with Lily—hit Chrys like a paint can to the head. She felt like chaos in this moment. Nothing made sense anymore. And, oh, she was going to regret this, because making Lily laugh felt good.
“Are you sure no one’s going to catch us?”
Chrys asked as Lily pulled into the Allertons’ driveway.
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
Lily’s tone was neutral, but Chrys sensed tension beneath it.
“My dad’s in Boston for some real estate conference, and my mom was supposed to be off today, but she got called into the hospital. Sara has a swim meet, and when that’s over, she’ll go home with one of her friends for dinner. We won’t be interrupted.”
Great. It would just be her, Lily, and a couple of rabbits. Her it’s-not-a-crush-again problem aside, the privacy should have made her relieved, yet Chrys didn’t feel it. She just felt sad, thinking about Lily’s apology the other day.
“Do you have to cook your own dinner?”
Chrys would never have imagined Lily needing to fend for herself.
“Sometimes? I know how to make stuff, but if everyone’s going to be gone for a weekend or something because of Sara’s swimming, I’ll usually eat whatever or get delivery.”
“Does that happen a lot—everyone being gone?”
Chrys suspected she was being rude. Any moment, Lily would tell her to mind her own business.
“Only during swim season,”
Lily said.
“The rest of the year, it’s not as bad.”
A princess shouldn’t just have someone to cook for her; she should have a retinue, or whatever it was called. Although, Chrys supposed Lily did have that—at school. She was Miss Popular. But the important people, the ones who should be there for her, Chrys was less certain about them.
She knew what working odd hours was like. Her mom was out the door in the mornings before Chrys left for school, and most nights, she was in bed while Chrys was still doing her homework. But her mother tried to be there in between. They still ate dinner together every night. During previous winters, when witch school was in session, her mother used to stay up far later than she should so Chrys wouldn’t have to bike home in the freezing weather. Chrys wasn’t sure which of them had been more relieved when she got her driver’s license so her mother wouldn’t have to do that this year. They’d be sharing the one car, but it would help. In contrast, it was no wonder Lily had her own car. She had to be responsible for herself constantly.
Once Chrys’s initial infatuation with Lily had worn off two years ago, she’d decided Lily was selfish and self-absorbed, but while her opinion wasn’t entirely changing, she was beginning to understand. The people closest to Lily had left her to fend for herself. And, viewed that way, it wasn’t hard to see why Lily thought she needed to be perfect. What other chance did she have of getting attention?
Unable to stomach any more of these softer thoughts, Chrys got out of the car, and instead of following Lily toward the house, she walked toward the yard. Leaves were piling up on the lawn, creating a thick brown blanket.
It was perfect. She needed to smash something.
“What are you doing?”
Lily asked as Chrys set down her coffee and backpack on a retaining wall.
“Stomping.”
Chrys kicked a rough pile together near the driveway and jumped on it. It crackled nicely.
“That’s …”
Lily shook her head and disappeared into the garage.
“Spoilsport,”
Chrys muttered.
She kicked together another pile, grinding the leaves deep into the long grass. Lily was probably watching her from a window and rolling her eyes, and what had felt like fun a moment ago was starting to seem childish. Chrys turned to go inside, but before she could, Lily exited the garage carrying a rake.
“Don’t do something unless you’re going to do it right,”
Lily said, grinning. Chrys was too surprised to retort, so she stood aside as Lily swept up a decent-sized pile.
“There you go.”
“Are you laughing at me?”
Lily raised an eyebrow.
“Do you care?”
No. Yes. Chrys warmed in spite of the chilly air.
Screw it.
She jumped, and leaves went flying with a delightful scrunch and flutter. Chrys had no idea why it felt so good, but it did. She scrambled up out of the pile, held out a hand for the rake—which Lily passed to her—and quickly raked the pile back together, even larger than before. The Allertons had several mature ash trees on this side of the house that sported partially naked limbs, so there were lots of browning yellow leaves to go around.
“Your turn.”
She half expected Lily to turn up her nose, but Lily defied her expectations once again. Without a moment’s hesitation, Lily jumped onto the mound. Chrys immediately began raking up the leaves that had gone flying, allowing Lily to jump again and again.
With her red hair, long brown boots, and forest-green jacket, Lily looked every inch a Thornhaven witch. Now that she had leaves sticking to her hair and clothes, it only made her look more magical—and it also made Chrys’s stomach swoop like she was stuck on the free-fall side of a good jump.
“Jump with me!”
Lily shrieked. She grabbed the rake from Chrys’s hand and tossed it aside.
They took turns making piles and jumping, for how long, Chrys couldn’t say. Lily’s cheeks turned charmingly pink, and Chrys laughed along with her. For a moment, nothing was more pressing than how loud a noise she could make.
A barking dog broke the spell at last.
Lily stumbled as they both turned to the sound. Instinctively, Chrys reached out to steady her. It wasn’t a mistake, exactly, but all the anxious energy she’d burned off flooded her veins again with a vengeance.
She drew a deep breath that was filled with leaf dust and mold, hoping that lungful of death might kill off these feelings inside her chest. She hadn’t wanted them before, and she didn’t want them now.
Lily tucked her hair behind her ears, the most purely delighted grin on her face that Chrys had ever seen. But it faded into self-consciousness as she realized that the neighbor walking her dog was regarding them and their leafy mess with disdain.
“We should get to work.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m here.”
“That was fun?”
Lily almost made it sound like a question.
“I haven’t done anything like that in a long time.”
“It was fun.”
Chrys grabbed her backpack and her coffee, which was still scaldingly hot thanks to the bespelled cup.
“Who knew—you can have fun?”
“Me? You’re the one who scowls all the time. I used to think you didn’t know how to smile.”
“Most people don’t deserve my smile.”
They couldn’t be trusted not to turn it against her. When you knew what made someone happy, you knew how to make them unhappy. But wait. If Lily chose to interpret that comment as Chrys finding her more deserving of friendliness than most people …
She would simply have to hope Lily took it only as a friendly comment, not a flirty one. After all, she was 100 percent, absolutely, in no way ever going to flirt with Lily Allerton.