chapter twenty-six Zero Pride Left
chapter twenty-six
Zero Pride Left
“Dear, I hate to interrupt a good cry, but I’m afraid you might damage the book.”
Petra’s kind voice pulls me out of my vortex of doom just enough for me to realize they’re right; I’m going to cause irreparable
damage if I keep up with my wailing.
“Not to mention,” they add, “this is a library. You have to cry quietly.”
I snuffle back a tear, the noise echoing through the silent space, and look up at the librarian with watery eyes. They gaze
down at me with a kind, gentle expression, like they know exactly what it’s like to hit rock bottom and need a hand to pull
you out of it.
“Sorry,” I manage, wiping my nose on my sleeve. “You can take this back. It’s not going to work.” I close the book and push
it away from me.
Instead of taking it back, Petra sits in the chair next to me and folds their hands over the cover. “Why won’t it work? Maybe
I can help. Tell me what’s going on.”
I eye them uncertainly, then shake my head, looking away. “You wouldn’t believe me.” The last thing I want is to have to explain to this poor librarian everything that’s happened. They’d think I’m crazy.
“Try me.” Petra flips the book open to the exact page I’d been crying on and scans the spell. “Let me guess. You need to undo
something, right a wrong that happened a long time ago.”
How’d they guess? “Yes, but I don’t think I’ll be able to contact the person I need to help me here.” I point to the wronged parties must be present condition.
They tap the page. “This is a good spell. It might work.”
I lean closer. “You believe in spells?”
Petra laughs, a quiet chuckle to be respectful of the space. “My dear, I’ve been a librarian for a long time. I’ve seen just
about everything. So why don’t you tell me what’s really going on.”
I’m not entirely sure how much information they want, but they insist, so I start talking in a low whisper, and I keep talking
for who knows how long, until I feel completely spent and drained of it all. At the end I take a slow, shuddering breath,
wiping away a few stray tears that have escaped, and I feel . . . not good, not right, but better.
Wow, Lex was right. I really should see a therapist.
“What was the original spell you used?” Petra asks as I end my story.
“It wasn’t in the book. We made something up, blended some other spells together,” I explain.
“Do you remember the words?”
I delve deep into my memory, dredging up a part of my past I’d hoped I’d never have to revisit.
Closing my eyes to focus, I go back to that fateful night.
I imagine I’m there again, surrounded by girls I’d so desperately wanted to be my friends, the longing ache of being included at a time when my mother wanted nothing to do with me, and relive the jealousy that had been coursing through my veins over the boy I’d liked choosing my best friend instead of me . . .
“‘We call on the Magick of North, South, East, and West. To make her awkward who once was blessed. Remove her charm, remove
her grace. Make her fall flat on her face. Destined for a clumsy life until true love’s professed.’”
I blink my eyes back open, my chest feeling tight with finally admitting to myself, and someone else, the awful thing I’d
tried to do to a person who I’d once considered my best friend—and how terribly it had backfired.
Petra’s eyes narrow. “You cursed someone with a limerick?”
My cheeks warm as my shoulders scrunch toward my ears. “Maybe?”
They shake their head. “I take it back. I guess I haven’t seen it all.”
“Well then how’d it work if it wasn’t a real spell?”
“Spells aren’t about magic words, they’re about intent. The wording of a spell can help guide one’s intent, which is why we
must be careful how we think and speak about ourselves—because intent behind words can guide you in unseen ways throughout
life,” Petra explains.
I sit for a long moment as their words sink in. “So, is it hopeless?”
They shake their head. “Nothing is ever hopeless. This spell might work, but you will need the other person to be present
for it.”
I open my laptop and slide my unanswered message toward her. “That’s where I’m stuck.”
“May I?” Petra gestures at it.
I shrug. “Fill your boots.”
Petra pulls my laptop closer and taps away. Not even two minutes later, they push it back to me with a triumphant look upon their face. “Is this your friend?”
“That’s her!” I gasp as I gaze upon Courtney’s face on a business aesthetician page. “But what do I say? ‘Hey, we haven’t
talked in ten years but do you want to do some witchcraft with me?’”
Petra thinks for a moment. “If things between you two are as estranged as you say, then it may be best to explain everything
in person.”
I lift a brow. “How?”
“Why don’t you call and make an emergency eyelash appointment? It will be a lot harder to turn you away if you’re standing
in front of her.”
“Thank you!” I’m so grateful I could kiss them. I close my laptop and the witchcraft book, stacking one on top of the other.
“Can I take this with me?”
Petra tsks. “This is a library. It’s literally what we do.”
One hour later I’m standing outside the home of the girl I never thought I’d see again—the girl who was once my closest friend.
The witchcraft book is hugged tightly to my chest like a shield as I mentally prepare myself to walk up the path to the front
door of her small home business. It’d seemed like fate was finally pulling in my direction when she answered my call and said
there was a last-minute cancellation so she could squeeze me in.
But now I’m not sure if I can go through with it. Knocking on the door, seeing her in real life, facing all the shit in the
past, it’s harder than I thought it was going to be. I close my eyes and imagine Lex with me, holding my hand, her sharp blue
eyes filling me with confidence, and letting me know that no matter what happens she’s got my back—spare pants and all.
After three shaky exhales I reopen my eyes and walk toward the door. I knock assertively, not like my insides have turned liquid and I feel like I could either hurl or shit myself at any moment.
The door opens seconds later, swinging inward and revealing the girl from my past. She’s petite and blonde and adorable, just
like she was back then. Her bright smile fades immediately, eyes widening upon instant recognition, and she takes a step back.
“Aubrey?”
“Please don’t slam the door in my face,” I say, inching closer.
Courtney regards me with confusion. “I’m sorry, I can’t talk right now, I have an appointment, and—”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“Oh.” Her confusion clears and she gives me a slow, tight-lipped nod.
“I wasn’t sure you’d give me the time of day if I didn’t . . .” I trail off.
Courtney crosses her arms. “If you didn’t trick me?”
I bite my lip. “Yeah.”
She curls her lip in disdain, and then, just as I worried she would, she slams the door in my face.
I’m too stunned to do anything but stand there. I’m back to where I started, only this time, it’s worse. I can’t blame Courtney
for shutting me out. If I were her, I’d do the same. Head hanging and heart breaking, I turn to walk back down the sidewalk
toward my car. I should be planning a second course of action, an alternate route, trying to figure out how I can fix this
fucked-up life I’ve built for myself, but every avenue I think of results in me ending up alone. It’s completely hopeless.
Even if I—
“Wait.”
I turn; Courtney is on her doorstep, arms crossed, expression guarded. I hold my breath as she weighs my future in her hands.
“You came all this way,” she says finally. “I guess I can give you five minutes.”
Five minutes. Five minutes to determine the fate of my entire life. Here goes. Taking a few steps forward, I plant my feet firmly on the concrete and look up at Courtney with every single ounce of sincerity
I have.
“I was a shit friend to you in high school. I ditched you to try and be one of the popular girls. I made up a rumour about
you sucking dick in the boys’ change room. I laughed with the rest of the school when they bullied you for it. And then when
Chad asked you out, I’d been so jealous that I helped the other girls try and curse you so he’d break up with you and ask
one of us out instead.”
Courtney’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“We all got together with a witchcraft book and wrote a spell to turn you back into the awkward, weird girl you used to be
before you turned pretty over summer break. Then Chad dumped you and asked me out right after—which, I’m sorry for that, too.
It was shitty of me to date him after he’d broken up with you.”
“Yeah, it was shitty.” She shakes her head. “But, wait, back up. You cursed me?”
“I tried to, but the spell completely backfired.”
Courtney grimaces, inching the door closed. “Sorry, this is a bit much.”
“You remember what happened after prom?” I step forward. “The whole ‘Queef Queen’ thing?”
Courtney nods. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure everyone in the surrounding three towns heard about it.”
My skin flushes with renewed embarrassment, but I keep going.
“I thought it was just a coincidence, that something awkward had happened to me right after we did the curse. But it kept happening, again and again, with every person I dated. My life has been one long line of terrible dates, and it all comes back to this. To me being jealous of you, to betraying our friendship, to being petty and disloyal and . . .” I take a deep breath.
“I’m sorry. I deserved to have that curse come back and bite me in the ass.
But I’ve changed. I’ve worked really hard to be a better person, and to make up for my mistakes, and to make things right.
That’s why I’m here—to say sorry for stabbing you in the back, and for bullying you, and for being a terrible friend. ”
Courtney is silent for a long moment. “You know, all that stuff you did to me really hurt.”
My face burns with shame. “I know.”
“But what hurt worse?” She bites her lip. “You running away without even an explanation. It’s like the moment things got tough,