Chapter 16
Talula did call her mother when Dahlia said goodbye and they closed up shop.
No answer. She sent Sara a text, made dinner, then checked her phone again.
No response. She went up to her bedroom and was an hour into translating the next recipe in the mysterious Jinn cookbook when Talula finally got a text back.
Sorry to miss your call, my love!
Don’t worry about the town hall meeting. I’ll handle it when I’m back.
Sweet dreams my wonderful girl!
Talula chewed her lip. She was worried. About her mom. It wasn’t like her to not call Talula back. But there wasn’t much she could do about it. Her eyes were heavy, her body exhausted from the stress of the day. So Talula set aside her dictionaries and got into bed.
In the midst of a dream, Talula woke to a tak tak at her window. She brushed it off—some late bird looking for worms or a large insect smacking into the glass. She tried to sink back into sleep.
But then it came again.
Tak tak.
Wishing the bird would figure out the house did not stand for worms or tardy avians, Talula turned over tiredly. She needed sleep after the long day.
Tak tak CLONK.
Talula bolted upright, her heart a skittering panic. Okay, so, not a bird. She turned on her bedside lamp and quietly padded over to the window. Soon, Talula’s heart was pounding for a whole different reason.
Dahlia was there, on the sidewalk cloaked in shadow, with pebbles in her hand.
Talula hurriedly opened the window, cheeks flushed. “Hi?”
“Hey!” Dahlia whisper-yelled. “Sorry! That last rock was way too big for this kind of thing. Did I break your window?”
Talula shook her head. “What are you doing?”
“You weren’t answering your phone.” Dahlia shrugged, then turned her most intense, burning brown-eyed gaze on Talula. “And I have an urgent late-night craving.”
Talula felt her stomach swoop. She managed to croak, “For what?”
Dahlia held up a carton of eggs. “VENGEANCE.”
Talula went slightly (disappointingly) cold. “Oh. On what? Or who? Whom?”
“Whom,” Dahlia affirmed, ominous. “There’s only one person in this town deserving of these eggs. Your ex.”
“You want to egg Kristen’s house?”
“Or her car. Or her cat.” Dahlia nodded emphatically. “Well, not her cat. I’m not a complete sociopath. And I actually love cats. But I need you to come with me and show me where she lives.”
“Why do you want to egg Kristen?”
“Because I’m still furious at how she spoke to you! She deserves eggs.” Dahlia raised her fist to the sky like a mythical hero swearing to avenge his murdered horse. It was undeniably adorable. And also, absurdly hot.
Talula was torn between melting into a puddle and laughing loud enough to alarm the neighborhood watch. “I don’t know if egg vengeance is the right choice, but it’s appreciated.”
“Egg vengeance is happening.” Dahlia dimpled devilishly. “Whether I egg the right house, however, is entirely up to you.”
For a single heartbeat, Talula thought about what Simon would say about all this and how it fit into prioritizing her magical responsibilities.
But Dahlia’s grin was a beacon in the dark.
In a hushed voice, Talula called out, “I’ll be right there.”
Still in her PJ’s, she grabbed a coat, shoved her sockless feet into sneakers, and hopped out the window. The house subtly inched a nearby lattice under the sill for Talula to traipse down. She met Dahlia on the sidewalk. “Wait, how did you know where I live?”
“One of my jogging routes takes me around here.” Dahlia pointed at Talula’s porch. “I recognized your bike and saw you in your window.”
Talula felt warm all over, all over again. She turned toward the street. “Follow me.”
The two set out, Dahlia’s steps light but determined. She pulled a black knit cap low over her forehead. “Stealth mode initiated. Should we get ski masks? Alibis? Code names?”
“I’m open to code names, especially if you come up with them.” Talula chuckled. “This feels so high school.”
“I wouldn’t know. We moved around too much for me to make midnight-shenanigans-level friends.” Dahlia shook her head as Talula led the way. “Which is a bummer, actually, because I’m twenty-seven, and if this is high school shit, it’s extremely fun.”
Dahlia had a point. There was something deliciously thrilling about stalking through the night with low-stakes mischief in mind, armed only with the clothes on their backs, a dozen eggs, and Talula’s giant crush on Dahlia burning a hole in her sternum.
It was a specific kind of teenage fun she hadn’t had in a long time.
In a lot of ways, Talula realized, she felt utterly adolescent—about Dahlia, about her magic, about her life goals in general.
Even about her sexuality. She’d grown out of her baby-queer era just enough to feel gawky and uncertain, confounded and explosive with every tilt of Dahlia’s grin.
Basically, in bisexuality years, Talula was a teen queer.
Dahlia rummaged around in her leather jacket and pulled out a flask. She offered it to Talula. “This might make things more adult.”
“Or is it actually more teenage to sneak around with booze in the middle of the night to vandalize your ex?” Talula joked. She took a gulp and immediately coughed as the spicy sweet liquid seared its way down her throat. “What is this?”
“Cinnamon whiskey.” Dahlia clapped Talula on the back a few times. “It’s autumnal!”
It was a fall-flavored punch to the sinuses. Talula took another, more delicate sip, enjoying the spice this time. She handed the flask back to Dahlia. “Let’s go this way. Shortcut.”
They turned onto one of the forest trails near Talula’s neighborhood.
It was a cold night, Talula’s skin prickling with goosebumps despite her coat.
The forest was eerie but beautiful, quiet but for the occasional sound of night animals shuffling across damp ground.
Dahlia, ever prepared, flicked on a flashlight to illuminate their path and asked, “So, how are you, really?”
“Oh, you know,” Talula said, hugging her coat tighter. “Another day, another evil ex out to get me.”
“Any other evil exes in town that I should know about?” Dahlia teased. “Should I have brought more eggs?”
“Nope. She’s the only one. And the evilest.”
“What about…exes in general? Or current partners?” Dahlia asked lightly.
“Haven’t had a relationship since college,” Talula admitted, grateful the dark hid her blush.
“So you’re single,” Dahlia clarified.
Talula winced. Wasn’t it obvious Talula was a giant freak that nobody wanted to date? Talula didn’t know why Dahlia was homing in on her pathetic relationship status. “Yup.”
“Got it. Me, too, by the way.”
“How?” Talula heard the word come out of her mouth, and then she slammed a hand over her lips. “Oh my god, that was so rude, I’m sorry!”
Dahlia just chuckled and took another swig from the flask.
“I just…I just don’t understand. You’re so kind and brilliant and beautiful—” Talula decided to cut herself off the cinnamon whiskey.
“I’m what you’d call a ‘big personality.’ I don’t think I ever really learned restraint.
I love being loud and saying exactly what’s on my mind and giving my girlfriends giant teddy bears for Valentine’s Day.
One of my exes called me an IMAX movie twenty-four-seven. I’m…I can be too much for some people.”
Talula fumed. How could there be too much of Dahlia? It’d be like calling a once-in-a-lifetime sunrise “over-the-top.” Ferociously, she said, “New plan. Let’s go egg your ex’s house.”
“No need. My vengeance plan is already in motion.”
“What is it?” Talula asked, intrigued.
“She’s doomed to live a life without my luminous self.” Dahlia tossed her hair. “Ruthless, right?”
“I can’t think of anything worse,” Talula said, meaning every word.
Dahlia pressed on. “Kristen, however, lives in your town and breathes your air and says shitty things trying to make you feel small. Vengeance must be served.”
“Sunny-side up?”
Dahlia handed the flask back to Talula. “I’m open to suggestions.”
Talula took a minute to think as they wound through the woods, getting closer to the more central neighborhoods of Pine Hollow.
She thought about how heartbroken she’d been in high school after Kristen had broken up with her.
Kristen hadn’t done it kindly. Talula had climbed up to Kristen’s window at their usual meeting (sex) time.
Kristen had told her to get out before she called the cops.
Talula had run home, on this very forest trail, sobbing.
Her mother had struggled to give her comfort.
“Lovers come and go, some with sweetness and some with a sting. We can mourn the losses,” Sara had said, tucking a blanket around a teary-eyed teenage Talula.
“But at the end of the day, you must stand tall and focus on what’s most important.
You. Your goals. Your extraordinary Magical Destiny.
No romance is worth the distraction, my love. ”
Talula had started sobbing again, the house turning a sorrowful bluish-black.
Panicked, Sara had conjured every ice cream flavor on earth (and twenty-two from the confectionary dimension).
Angry and heartsick over her hurting child, she had cried, “You say the word, and I will turn her into a toad for you, my precious girl! Or a newt! Or both—you shouldn’t have to pick! ”
Now Talula pondered. What would a heartbroken teenage Talula have wanted for vengeance? Eggs? Interdimensional ice cream? Toad-newt hybrids?
“I think…” Talula let the words rise from her heart without censoring herself.
“I think the best vengeance is a good life. One where she won’t matter to me at all.
Maybe—” Talula took a nervous breath. “Maybe one day, I’ll be walking through the farmers’ market with someone.
Someone amazing who lights up when I walk into the room and actually wants to hold my hand in public.
And I’ll see Kristen watching me, happy beyond my wildest dreams, and I’ll look her right in the eye and just… smile.”