22 #2
My heart is beating fast. One thing at a time, right?
That’s how I study for exams, handle my homework.
I’m not first in my class—or, at worst, second—for nothing.
I turn to the pilgrim. “So you are way too far north. What you want to do is head south and keep going on foot for the next . . .”—I scroll through the directions and gulp—“twenty-two days.”
The pilgrim, however, looks undeterred. “Thank you. Fare thee well,” he tells us both, and turns to go. After consulting the sun, he turns and strides directly into the forest.
Justin frowns. “Is he actually walking?”
“Method acting,” I say quickly, and my rambling explanation is cut off by a loud roar from the kitchen. The door shakes. Justin doesn’t seem to notice. He’s just staring at me with a goofy expression.
“So,” Justin continues, “when does your Halloween party start? I can help you set up. Let me put these in the kitchen—”
“No!” Laney and I cry at the same time. I drag him away from the door. So apparently those Do Not Enter signs are not as effective as I was hoping. “We were, um, just cleaning the living room. Maybe you can help Laney finish.”
Laney gives me a look. “Why doesn’t he help Kat finish?”
I lean in to her and whisper, “I need to gather ingredients for the spell. Harry took everything from our stores.” She gapes at me. “But don’t worry. I got this. You just . . . keep him in the living room, okay? Don’t let anything eat him.”
Laney glares at me. “Fine. But you owe me.”
“Thanks,” I say, ducking out into the garden.
My mom has some hydrangeas over by the fence.
She’s already picked all the pink ones for the spell since they represent romantic love—but these flowers change color based on the acidity of the soil, so there are only blue ones left, and they’ve been fading with the frost.
I try to remember what I read in my witchcraft books. Blue hydrangeas: Apology. Regret. Forgiveness.
Well, that’ll have to do. I’m not exactly feeling in a romantic mood. I bat my way through the overgrowth of sunflowers, grumbling to myself.
“Hey there, Sunshine,” comes a voice.
I almost scream and fall back, but Ryan Elliott has an arm around me. “Ryan! What are you doing here?”
“I was thinking about you,” he says. Okay, creepy. “And I wanted to bring you some flowers.”
“You decided to pick them from my garden?”
He reaches up, and after some huffing and puffing, rips the big stem down the middle. We’re well past flowering time, so the sunflower is reduced to seeds, all the petals gone, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “A sunflower for my Sunshine.”
I try to offer him a smile, but it feels more like a grimace. “How nice of you.” I rack my mind trying to think of a chore to give him, but he’s probably safer at the house. “Do me a favor?”
“Anything,” he says, smiling at me in that vacant, besotted way. He’s trying to stuff the sunflower behind my ear, but it’s far too big, and the leaves are scratchy along my temple.
“Help Laney get ready for the party? We have some cleaning—”
Ryan grins. “I’d love to. Since we’re hosting together.”
“Sure,” I say, pointing him toward the living room. Laney is going to kill me.
The next thing I need for the spell is rope we can knot and bury—I’ve been practicing the intertwined overhand knots before I could even make bunny ears on my sneakers.
Harry took the ritual rope we use, which was braided out of our ancestors’ hair (gross, but powerful), so I go to the greenhouse to find some twine that my dad used on the tomatoes last season. It’ll do.
And last, an apple. The two lovers usually each take a bite, sealing the ritual.
It’s some metaphor for temptation. Maybe I can send Ryan to the Stop & Shop or ask Colton to bring one over?
Because I am not risking the kitchen, not when I hazard a glance in the window and see that the yeti appears to be juggling garden gnomes.
They’re not too upset, at least, so maybe it’s some kind of game.
Yetis are famous for their playful spirits, right?
In the end, I decide it’s too dangerous to send any boys anywhere. I grab my reusable bag, yell to Laney that I’ll be back in twenty, and throw open the door . . . on a line of boys.
These aren’t just my crushes. This is every guy at Mystic Hollow High. They’re lined up one behind the other, each one waving to me. A few have flowers in their hands. One has balloons. When I step out onto the porch in shock, one breaks from the pack and jogs up the front stairs.
“Hey, Kat,” says Reese, his eyes like saucers as he stares at me. “I thought I’d come early to help you get ready for the party.”
“So did I,” says Hunter, and offers me a bouquet of fall blooms. “What do you need help with?” He flexes a muscle. “I can lift anything you need moved for the crowd.”
My face flushes. For just a moment, I feel like I’m having the best dream of my life. A nervous giggle escapes my lips before I can contain it. “I . . .” I struggle to find actual words. They stand there waiting. “I’m . . .”
“Hey, guys? I’ve got it covered,” says Justin, coming up from behind me and stepping out onto the porch.
Next thing I know, Ryan reappears too. The four of them immediately start arguing.
Over me. I can’t believe what’s going on here.
I need to stop this. More boys are joining in on the porch now too, trying to get to me and the front door. And then Laney jumps into action.
“I’ve got this!” she says, pushing past me. Her eyes find mine. “You find that apple and then we start casting the rituals. I’m not waiting for moonrise.”
I’m not sure what she says to them, but it must be about me and some sort of competition, because the long line of boys follows her into the house, flexing and puffing their chests and standing up as tall as possible. I shut the door behind them, breathing hard.
But there’s one more boy on my porch.
“Hadley,” says Zach, holding up a sack that is swinging, growling coming from inside. “What the heck did you do?”