28. Chapter 28 - Minnie
I spend several minutes hyperventilating in the alley behind Jewels Cafe, surrounded by chipmunks who all try to help. Blaze sniffs and nuzzles my legs, then licks and gently nibbles on my calf. A few of her friends join in, grooming me to offer comfort in the only way they know how.
The small pricks of pain bring me back to reality, and once I can breathe again, I turn to Blaze.
I resist the urge to get down on all fours and lick her and her friends. It’s bad enough that I look like a twitchy, puffed-cheeked version of Cinderella when I speak chipmunk. If Maude Montgomery were to see me now…
…actually, I doubt she could be any more disappointed with me than she already is.
A wave of shame courses through me as I stare down at my chipmunk friends.
Normal witches don’t talk to rodents…
Yet here I am, relying on an army of tiny critters for help because I don’t have any human friends… and that’s just a glimpse of the grimoire.
I squeeze my hands into fists.
I haven’t even earned the right to a glimpse of the Montgomery grimoire. That spell book’s been locked away out of my reach as long as I’ve been alive. Not that it should matter, since my magical powers are non-existent… but it does matter. Because Maude Montgomery always said I wasn’t worthy…
…and she’s always been right.
But maybe, just maybe, if she’d had a maternal bone in her body, I could have been. Maybe I could have been something more… More than a witch forced to raise a child in an abandoned building… More than a gold digger who married an asshole with no heart so she wouldn’t lose that child…
The memory of kissing Damien Starr resurfaces, and I cringe and shove it away. Another mistake tacked on to an already impossibly long list.
A list that started the day Maude Montgomery realized I could talk to animals. The day she finally accepted that I’ll never be able to cast spells.
If it weren’t for my wonky powers, maybe I could have had a loving mother. And a father who remembered he had a daughter. A career. A house. Maybe even a real husband… and love…
Blaze lets out a loud chirp. “Minnie! Did you hear what I said?”
My cheeks puff up. “Sorry, what?”
“I said I’ve gone over the plan with the others.”
My voice is raw and shaky as I ask, “Is everyone on board?”
Blaze nods. “You’re going to turn us into giant chipmunk monsters and then we’ll destroy Silver Springs!”
I nearly have a heart attack. “What? No! I didn’t say that. We’re not destroying anything. We’re just—”
Blaze chirps. “I’m kidding. I’m kidding! We’re not going to destroy things. I promise.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and force myself to push aside my pity party for one.
I have a plan to go over with the chipmunks. One that has to go right.
I repeat the details until every chipmunk present has them memorized. Then, I take the invisibility dust from my Birkin and sprinkle the content on my little friends.
The chipmunks disappear in front of my eyes, and I sprinkle the power on myself. Step one down, a gazillion more to go.
I lead the way out of the alley, chirping as I go. My chipmunk friends follow the sound of my voice, the pitter patter of tiny feet and the occasional complaint as they bump into each other the only evidence that they’re still there.
Luckily, now that the sun has set, Main Street isn’t as crowded. And the few people we pass are busy talking, texting, or in the case of one bird shifter—flying—to notice the chirping.
When we reach the bakery, I hold the door open several inches and wait until my chirp count reaches twenty-six, and every chipmunk is accounted for.
Then, I take out a small orb from my Birkin and tap it twice.
To the chipmunks’ chirping delight, rays of magical light shoot out into every corner of the bakery.
My chipmunk friends chat amongst themselves about the wonders of magic, the absurdity of being invisible, and how hilarious it is that they keep bumping into each other.
Then once they become visible again, and the conversation subsides, I remind them of the plan and sprinkle some growth potion on them.
The chatter and laughter resumes, a hundredfold.
I catch snippets of conversation.
“Floor is so far…”
“…never thought I’d see the day…”
“…stairs…”
“…so big…”
“…so small…”
My heart races a mile a minute. There are so many ways this could all go wrong. So many…
“Minnie?” Blaze nuzzles my cheek with her nose.
“I’m okay.” I suck in air. I’m so not okay.
Blaze lets out a loud chirp, and the chatter around us subsides. “Remember, we’re here to help Minnie, who saved my babies.”
A loud cheer erupts, and my heart nearly explodes out of my chest. What if someone is passing by outside? What if they realize I’ve been living in an abandoned building, and tell everyone, and social services show up, and Natty taken away, and…
While I mentally run through all the awful possibilities, the chipmunks quiet down and follow Blaze upstairs. The main floor becomes eerily quiet, and my panic starts to subside.
I barely have enough time to resume breathing before Blaze appears at the top of the stairs with my underwear-filled purse. Even when magically grown to human size, chipmunks are fast.
Not as coordinated, though.
Blaze attempts to take the stairs, misses the step entirely, and tumbles toward me, purse flying.
Instead of screaming, I let out a series of high-pitched squeaks—the chipmunk equivalent of a warning. If Blaze doesn’t catch herself, she’s going to squish me.
Luckily, I’m not on Formula M, so running is in my new vocabulary.
I scramble out of the way and the giant chipmunk barely misses me. She slams onto the bakery floor with a loud thud and dust flies up and settles in the surrounding air, its tiny particles reflected in the glow of the magical light.
I rush to her side, heart in my throat. “Blaze? Are you hurt?”
She groans. “I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Don’t worry about me.”
I pull her into a hug, her fur soft and comforting against my cheek, and give her a lick. Not because I’m a weirdo who enjoys licking animals, but because the chipmunk urge to groom is impossible to resist.
You’re more animal than human, Maude’s disgusted words echo through my head. You’re an embarrassment to the Montgomery name.
Blaze nuzzles my side, reminding me that at least someone appreciates me for who I am. “Thanks, Minnie.”
Her gaze leaves me and travels to the top of the stairs, where another giant chipmunk carrying a handful of shoes comes into view.
“Stop,” I shout. Then, I remember anyone could be passing outside, and lower my voice to a hiss. “Let me help.”
I kick off my heels and rush upstairs to take the shoes from the chipmunk. I remind her to hold the railing, then carry them downstairs and wait for the chipmunk to safely traverse the stairs before handing them back.
Then, I do it all over again with the next critter in line.
Dresses. Natty’s clothes, his shoes, our library books—chipmunk after chipmunk until I’m huffing and puffing and barely able to keep going.
When the last critter appears at the top of the stairs, my potion-filled suitcase in hand, I groan.
And somehow manage to lug the thing downstairs.
I’m covered in sweat—an odd thing I don’t remember ever happening before—and my thighs and knees ache because the Cloud 9 ⒈／⒉ potion doesn’t extend past my ankles.
I have a generic Aches and Pains potion in the suitcase, but I decide to go without.
Right now, we need to focus on getting out of here.
“Okay, everyone,” I puff out my cheeks, bend over at the waist, hands on knees, as I try to catch my breath. “I’m going… to sprinkle more… invisibility dust… on you…” I take a few deep breaths. “And then… it’s time… for step two.”
The chipmunks cheer so loudly the walls shake, and I nearly have a heart attack.