Chapter 11
The air was crisp and clear as Riya rounded the back of the school, a mild breeze lifting strands of hair against her cheek.
It should have been a perfect afternoon. But her stomach was in knots, fingers biting into her backpack strap.
All weekend, she’d hunted for some other option, anything that could undo the curse quietly, without dragging Kian into it.
Meanwhile, Kian had flooded her phone with relentless, inane text messages:
Kian:
got your number from the school directory. hope that’s ok.
anyway i saw these birds flying in a V and it looked kinda like a heart. made me think of you. do you like birds? i like birds.
respond if you can! i can wait forever.
or at least until my phone battery runs out.
By Sunday night—at least twenty more texts and zero responses later—Riya was forced to face the facts: Ignoring Kian was only making him more persistent.
And if she couldn’t fix the curse yet, then at the very least, she could be honest about her mistake.
Hope that would help him understand the very real, very dangerous situation they were in.
She supposed she owed him that much.
Her sneakers scuffed against the sun-warmed pavement as she crossed toward the track, heart hammering.
Kian was crouched in the grass, a battered green notebook in his lap, scribbling like the rest of the world didn’t exist.
He looked . . . peaceful. Too peaceful, considering.
Noticing her, Kian sat up, his eyes glittering, unsettlingly, with hope.
“So you liked my poem? Is that what this is about?”
“No.” Riya dropped onto the cool metal bleachers. “Unfortunately, I did not like your poem.”
“Oh. Not a poetry fan, huh?” He set down his notebook and muttered to himself. “I knew I should have tried a song—”
“That’s not what I wanted to talk about.” Riya squared her shoulders. Just say it.
Except . . .
How, exactly, did one break the news that they’d accidentally cursed someone?
She opened her mouth—only to pause when Kian moved aside, revealing a slim black-and-white cat with striking yellow eyes.
“Who is that?”
“Oh, Cat?” Kian grinned. “She’s chill. I hang out back here a lot, and I feed her after school. We’re best buds.”
Riya blinked. Kian, supposed fistfight enthusiast, fed a stray cat after school?
“I’d take her home, but my dad’s allergic,” he explained.
Riya reached out, and the cat approached, purring.
“. . . Her fur’s so soft.”
“Hell yeah. Only the best organic stuff for Cat,” he said, puffing his chest.
“Is her name really just ‘Cat’?”
“I’m not good with names,” he admitted. “When my dad got me a pet goldfish in sixth grade, I named him Goldy. Open to ideas,
though.”
Riya thought for a moment. “What about Oppy?”
“Oppy?”
“Short for ‘Opportunity.’ The longest-running rover on Mars.” She’d almost teared up when she’d read about how NASA had played Billie Holiday’s I’ll Be Seeing You as their farewell to Opportunity, before they’d lost contact.
“You really do love space, huh.”
Riya narrowed her eyes. “I do, but—how did you know?”
“I, uh, may have picked up on a few things. Your AP Astronomy book. That conversation with Mr. Krug about some new fancy telescope—the
Roman . . . something?”
Riya went still. “The Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope?”
“Yeah! You got this little light in your eye when you were talking about it. And your water bottle only has one tiny sticker and it’s the NASA logo.”
“How observant.”
Kian grinned. “With you, yeah.”
Of course, given the circumstances, she half expected him to pay annoyingly close attention to her. But this felt different.
More deliberate. Like he’d been collecting crumbs she hadn’t meant to drop. Could magic really make him notice this much?
Oppy let out a small meow, curling up in a patch of sun. For a moment, it would have been easy to sink into the peace of it.
But she noticed how Kian’s gaze on Oppy was unfocused, the swollen skin beneath his eyelids bruised purple with fatigue.
Riya sat up straight, forcing herself to stay focused.
“Back to what I was saying,” she said. “I need to tell you something, but it doesn’t leave this field. If this secret got
out, it could be . . . bad.”
Kian sat cross-legged, his expression solemn. “Whatever it is, you have my word. I’ll take it to the grave. Torture won’t
crack me. They could break my guitar. Lock me in a room with scorpions and snakes. Rip off my—”
“No need, no need. Just, remember how I said you might be . . . confused about your feelings?”
“Yeah. I remember.”
Riya exhaled. Just say it.
“Well, there’s a reason why you woke up one day with feelings for me.”
Kian frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I put you under a love curse.” She met his gaze. “I know it sounds absurd, but my family comes from a line of peris—beings
who can influence emotions. I was trying to help my friend Mel. Except I was really irritated, and I lost focus, and the spell
. . . hit you instead.”
Kian blinked. Then laughed. “You’re joking.”
Riya didn’t smile.
“Oh, you’re serious.”
“I am,” she said. “It was an accident, but it’s still on me, and I’m—” she swallowed—“so, so sorry.”
“So, let me get this straight. You’re literally magical? Like Cupid?”
“That’s a bit reductive, but basically.”
“Huh.” He rubbed his neck, considering. Then his face broke into a small crooked smile. “You know, honestly, if anyone at school was going to have magic powers, I’d have put money on you.”
Riya felt a weird jolt in her chest at the unexpected compliment. She had braced for rage, or disbelief—she wouldn’t have
blamed him for either. Instead, acceptance.
“So what now?” he asked, softer.
“If I don’t find a way to break the curse before the next full moon—the 26th—your feelings will completely take you over and
become . . . permanent.”
For a breath, something in Kian’s face brightened, so fast Riya thought she’d imagined it.
He cleared his throat.
“But, if it feels real to me” he said carefully, “doesn’t that count for something? Curse or no curse?”
“Kian, we barely spoke before any of this.”
“Does that matter?”
“Feelings don’t just change that drastically overnight.”
“Maybe not for you,” he said wryly.
Riya pressed her fingers to her temples. “Look,” she said, “all I’m here to say is that I’m going to do everything in my power
to break the curse, before it’s too late.”
“Do you have any leads?”
“I’m working on it.” That part, at least, was true. She’d begun researching nonstop. Like Amara had said, peri magic wasn’t
written down—it was passed down through oral tradition, thanks to some paranoid ancestor who probably thought that was safer,
even if it meant losing knowledge. But there had to be something about breaking peri curses, somewhere. Not instructions,
maybe, but traces. Clues buried in the margins, half-remembered stories.
“I need to check some books in the library first,” she said. “I’m just waiting for my khala. She’s in Finland right now, and
she’s the only one in my family who knows anything about peri magic.” Her jaw tightened. “She . . . helped me before.”
Kian nodded slowly. “And if that doesn’t work?”
“The only other option is that we’d have to form a genuine connection that overrides the curse.
. . .” His expression was blank. “We’d have to fall in real love, before the next full moon.
But that’s obviously impossible.” What even counted as real love, anyway?
Was it a feeling, a choice? Something measurable?
“Ouch. Okay.” Kian deflated. “Guess it’s not that simple, huh.”
The two of them watched, for a moment, as Oppy lazily pawed at a dandelion.
Kian sighed. “There is one teensy additional problem.”
Riya’s eyebrow twitched. “What?”
“Damn, maybe I shouldn’t tell you. You look stressed as hell.”
“Just so you know, your death would also end the curse.”
“Yikes, my bad,” said Kian, laughing. “It’s just, I have this big audition for Berklee College of Music. I have to perform
a live piece and do an online interview, and I can’t reschedule. But it’s on the twenty-seventh. Which”—he pulled out his
phone, checking the date—“is the day after the next full moon.”
It was already October 5. Riya’s stomach dropped like a failed rocket launch.
He said it so casually, like it wasn’t a big deal. Like it wasn’t everything. But like her, Kian had a direction, a plan for his life. One she might’ve completely derailed.
“We’ll fix it before the 26th,” she said. “Before your audition date. I won’t let my mistake ruin your future.”
Kian was quiet for a moment as he tugged the edge of his beanie. “What about you? Are you staying on the East Coast for college?”
“West Coast,” she answered absently.
Kian’s face fell. “Whoa, that’s too far. I could skip Berklee. There are plenty of schools out—”
“No.” The word shot out of her, sharp. “If Berklee is your top choice, keep it your top choice.”
Kian grinned. “Well, damn. So you do care.”
“I just don’t want to be the reason you don’t go after what you want. Plus, I get it. I’ve been gunning for Caltech since
I was fourteen.”
“Caltech? Like, for smart people shit? Not surprising.”
“I like astrophysics,” Riya admitted. “The formation of planetary systems. Black holes. But I’m really interested in the multiverse.”
“Damn. Just when I thought you couldn’t get cooler.”
The silence between them stretched. Oppy let out a tiny snore, blissfully unaware of their turmoil.
Kian shifted awkwardly. “So . . . can I help?”
Riya stared. “With what?”
“Anything,” he said. “Iced tea runs. Giving you rides. Moral support.” A beat. “Or we could, you know, not rush. See what
happens.” He caught himself, laughed it off. “Joking. Mostly.”
“Not funny.” She sighed. “Anyway, I work best solo. For now, just try to sit tight. No ripping up the school flower bed. No more poems. No more—”
“But how will I show you how much I care about you?” Kian cut in, pouting.
“You don’t.”
“That’s impossible.”
“If you must, then just keep it small. Small.”
“Deal.” He offered a ringed, callused hand. “Well, Miss Justice Junkie, my life’s in your very capable hands.”
Riya hesitated. It was just a handshake, a meaningless gesture. Except it didn’t feel that way.
This was going to be a very long month.
Jaw tight, she took it. And it was warm. Solid.
Like a thread pulling taut between them.