Chapter 6
Riya liked normalcy as much as the next person.
But deep in her bones, she knew that today was going too smoothly.
Granted, she didn’t expect Andrew to come running to Mel first period, flowers in hand. But it was already halfway through
the school day—Monday, the first school day after the full moon—and still, nothing had changed.
That left three unsettling possibilities:
The spell hadn’t worked. Maybe the graveyard wasn’t hallowed enough. Could microplastics in the soil ruin a spell?
It worked, but barely. Maybe Andrew’s new feelings had already faded. As in he ate breakfast, and promptly forgot Mel.
It did work, but the effects simply hadn’t shown . . . yet.
Her mind suddenly conjured an unwelcome image of Andrew perched on the roof, shouting his confession to Mel for the whole
school to hear, while the fire department tried to coax him down with a megaphone.
Riya really didn’t know which option was worse.
“I haven’t seen Andrew all day,” Mel said at lunch, pouting.
“The day’s not over yet,” Riya replied.
“God, it’d be so much easier if Andrew and I shared a class together! All we have together is gym, and that’s not till Wednesday. And now I have Physics, where I’m stuck playing catch-up, thanks to Kian.” Mel groaned, resting her head in her hands. “Maybe I should go find Andrew myself.”
“Taking the initiative isn’t a bad idea.”
“But what if that makes me look desperate?” Mel frowned, tugging at her baby-blue headband as it slipped down her forehead.
“I mean . . . the spell worked, right? I felt different after you cast it. Like everything was going to be okay. But now I just—” She cut herself off, sighing.
“What?” Riya prompted.
“I hoped I’d feel less afraid by now,” Mel muttered. “But the weekend passed, and I still keep second-guessing everything.
I thought the spell would make things easier, but . . .” She bit her lip. “I just feel . . . stuck.”
Riya didn’t know what to say. Mel’s blind faith in the spell—despite Riya’s own doubts—made something coil uncomfortably in
her chest. She wanted to reassure her, to say something definitive. But the memory of that red thread—twisting in her fingers,
wild and unpredictable—flickered behind her eyes.
“Maybe just . . . give it a little more time,” Riya said finally.
“Right. Like you said, the day’s not over.” Mel adjusted her headband again, trying for a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“So, how are you? How’s the essay going? That’s due at the end of October, yeah?”
It was September 29, which left her with only thirty-two precious days. The taste of metal rose in her mouth—the way it had
this morning.
Outside the Astronomy classroom, Mr. Krug had been filling his thermos at the water fountain.
Caltech alum. PhD in aerospace engineering. Former NASA consultant. He’d been the one who’d encouraged her to compete in the
International Astronomy and Astrophysics Competition, where she’d placed third. And just last week, he’d handed her a recommendation
letter so warm, it practically burned.
“My star student!” he had chirped, sloshing water onto his sneakers. “Oops. You got my letter for Caltech just fine?”
“Yes, Mr. Krug,” Riya had said politely. “Thank you again. I know your good word will tip the scales.”
She’d meant it. Mostly. But reading the letter left her uneasy.
“Riya Khan is going to change the world.”
Lately, those words felt less like a promise and more like a job she hadn’t agreed to.
Caltech only accepted 2.7 percent of applicants. A glowing letter and stacked resume wouldn’t be enough. She had to stand out from all the other type A overachievers clawing for the same spot.
So she’d spent another sleepless night brainstorming possible essay topics: How my love of the cosmos has fostered my love of the unknown (too broad); How building a telescope from scratch helped me understand my place in the greater universe (too cheesy and an obvious exaggeration). None of it felt right.
At this point, she might as well submit a single page that just said, “MIT sucks” and hope for the best.
“Well, I’m happy to hear it,” Mr. Krug had said. “And I know we’re going to hear good news soon. I expect a planet named after
me when you make it big!”
Then he’d left, heading back into the classroom while Riya had stood there, the weight of his words pressing against her ribs.
“Riya?”
Mel’s voice pulled her out of the mire of her thoughts.
She blinked, then took a careful breath.
“Yeah. I’ll—I’ll figure it out.”
She stared down at her lunch: a crustless turkey-and-cheese sandwich cut into perfect rectangles and a Gala apple. The same
lunch she’d eaten almost every day since freshman year.
Mel’s gentle, knowing stare lingered on the dark circles beneath Riya’s eyes. She reached over and patted Riya’s hand.
“I know you won’t need it since it’s you we’re talking about here—but if there’s a chance I can help with the essay or anything, let me know, okay? Don’t be afraid
to lean on me.”
Riya nodded. She wanted to mean it.
But her hand slipped away anyway. Like muscle memory.
“Sure,” she said, and took another bite of her bland sandwich.
The rest of the day whizzed by.
Between classes, hallways jittered with talk of the past weekend—shows watched and games played, of people seen, work unfinished.
Riya narrowly avoided the Yearbook Committee, already harassing students with their cameras and order forms despite it only
being a month into the school year. When they spotted her, they chased her down the hall begging to know if Student Council
had picked a prom theme yet, until she shot them a murderous look.
It didn’t help that all day her body had felt like it was moving through water. Her head buzzed with a low, inexplicable hum,
too present to ignore.
After posting the sign-up sheet for the Fall Talent Show, Riya made her way to her locker, where Mel would no doubt be waiting,
ready to report the details of her day.
Instead, she found Kian. Leaning casually against her locker, black beanie pulled low, hands (concerningly) hidden behind
his back.
Riya’s pulse ticked as she cycled through possible explanations. Was he here to gloat? To fight her? No sign he was carrying a duel sword, at least.
Unless: What if he was here to give another halfhearted apology?
Somehow, she’d prefer the duel.
She gripped her Astronomy textbook tighter as students gave Kian a wide berth, sneaking wary glances.
In her experience, annoying people were best dealt with like last-minute schedule changes or bad zits: head-on and with head
high.
Steeling herself, she approached. “Can I help you?”
It wasn’t really a question.
Kian looked up, eyes unfocused—then brightened.
“Yes,” he said, flashing a grin. “Yes, you absolutely can.”
It was surreal, facing the boy who’d barged into her mind like he’d owned the place. Worse was the tension blooming beneath
her ribs—that storm-quiet stillness she always felt before a spell snapped. Like even standing near him was tugging at her
magic.
And then there was the way he was looking at her.
Warm. Adoring.
It made the hairs on her arms prickle.
Riya cleared her throat. “Well?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Kian shyly, tugging at a lock of his dyed-blond hair. “Sorry, I got distracted. Has anyone ever told you
that you smell like flowers? Like—like jasmine, I think.”
Jasmine?
“Sorry, that came off creepy,” Kian went on quickly. “It’s just, I wanted to apologize.”
“I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” she said, brisk. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”
Kian laughed, too easily, as he took a step closer.
“Totally get that, Queen. Happy to apologize to your friend, too. But it’s clear I upset you. So I wanted to say I’m sorry. I really
hope we can start over.”
Riya stared. “Start over?”
Kian beamed.
Then, from behind his back, he produced a massive, slightly wilted bouquet—petunias so dark they looked black, like the night
sky pressed into petals.
These were the ones from the flower beds at the front of the school, the ones Riya would stop to admire when she had a spare
minute.
He must have picked every single one.
And he’d done it for her.
Riya suddenly felt dizzy.
This wasn’t just a crush—was it? No one normal went from taunts in the hallway to giant bouquets overnight. It didn’t add up. Unless . . .
Unless this was her fault. Unless her magic had somehow missed Andrew and Mel and hit Kian instead.
But how? How could she have messed it up this badly? It made no sense. Love magic wasn’t supposed to work like this. And it wasn’t supposed to be one-sided. That was kind of the whole point.
So why? Why was he fixated on her?
“Riya Khan,” Kian suddenly announced, his voice carrying across the hall like a megaphone. “I know we don’t really know each
other, but I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. Your strength. Your sense of justice. Your irresistible coldness—I
just knew my feelings would only keep growing.”
He thrust the gargantuan bouquet toward her. Riya took a step back, pressed against the lockers.
Other students were gawking now, pointing and gasping at the spectacle that could only be described as a deranged courtship
ritual.
But before she could grapple with her embarrassment, Riya’s gaze swept through the crowd until it landed on Mel.
Mouth agape. Cheeks flushed. And coming to all the wrong conclusions.
“RiRi . . . ?” Mel mouthed.
All the while, Kian was staring at Riya, smiling like he’d found something precious and perfect. Something he would never let go.
“Riya Khan,” he proclaimed, with all the conviction of a lovestruck prince.
His eyes met hers, and Riya’s heart stuttered as they flashed molten gold.
“Oh no.”
Ignoring her, Kian dropped to one knee. A collective gasp rippled through the hallway.
“Would you do me the honor . . . of being my girlfriend?”