9 Quinn
Quinn
Four months before the fall
I need new hiking boots.
My left heel has lost its traction, and my foot slips every few steps. There’s some snow on the ground, and if it wasn’t our trail, it would be closed this time of year.
Joey’s up ahead. She cuts through the winter air with her breath billowing and her sleek dark hair pulled back into a ponytail.
I watch the sharp outline of her calves, visible under her long, tight running pants, as she takes on the trail with her usual vigor.
She’s quiet, but I know her mind is going a million miles a minute.
I’ll have to ask her about the hiking boots.
She’ll know which pair I should get. She’s the gear girl.
Elena strides just in front of me, head bent toward a flip phone. “Oh my god,” she says, cackling. “Tanner sent another one.” Elena, the queen of the universe. She’s not heartless, despite what everyone says. She’s just herself all the time and doesn’t care what people think. Never has.
Elena holds out the phone behind her, and I cover my face with my hands.
I know what it is without looking—a dick pic—and it’s one image I do not need to see.
Behind me, Sophie adjusts her beanie and turns away.
She stops to watch a rabbit hop over the snow and dart between the trees, and I know she’s deliberately making space between herself and the image on the phone.
Tanner McGrath has made her cry enough times that I don’t imagine a picture of his penis is on her list of things to see this morning.
Unlike Elena, Sophie does care what people think—and say and feel.
She is the kind of friend who will listen as you divulge your deepest fears and share her Red Bull with you between classes. She is all heart.
“We have the book, right?” Joey asks.
I reach behind me and give my pack a squeeze. “Of course.” I pinch the familiar edges of the book and am, as always, exhilarated to be the keeper of secrets. To be the one who knows that things aren’t always what they seem.
After our initiation, the four of us became as inseparable as vines.
We’d been friends before, but after that day, we were always sneaking out to do magic, obsessed with our new power.
We used illusion spells to change the color of my hair every few months.
When Joey sprained her ankle in volleyball, we healed it.
When Elena couldn’t remember where she put her cigarettes, we summoned them.
Above us now, clouds wrestle overhead, threatening to douse the world in snow.
“I can’t believe I got a C,” says Sophie, who walks alongside me again.
Elena laughs. “You know a C is average, right?”
“Not when you want to get into AP world history.”
Around us, bare aspen branches shudder in the wind. Along the snow-spotted trail, rocks crown through the mud like icebergs. I am reminded that now this is a path only we can see. Our illusion spell keeps it hidden.
Joey turns to walk backward so she’s facing us. “We all agree it should be an illusion spell, right? Change the grade on the test, and change it in his grade book?”
“Even though the grade book is online, you still think it will work?” Sophie asks.
Joey shrugs. “We changed that Facebook post, remember?” As she finishes the thought, her heel catches on a rock.
She reaches for Elena, who then reaches for me.
Sophie yips and grabs my elbow, but instead of breaking my fall, she slips.
Together, we tumble down, an avalanche of limbs, into the snow and earth.
After one second of silence, we burst into laughter, unable to stop ourselves.
We’re muddy and bruised, but we help each other to our feet.
A thirty-minute hike is all it takes to get out here, and the anticipation is like sugar on our tongues.
Soon, the woods open around us, and we’re surrounded by knobby white aspen trunks, looking on like stacked-together bones.
There’s a sharpness in the air that bites the inside of my nostrils—the smell of the trees.
Alongside the smell is a vibration, a constant hum, like there’s a grid of electricity beneath our feet.
This is the magic. I savor it for a moment, excited for the spell work to come.
Then, beneath the feeling of the magic, an unexpected, unwelcome prickly feeling sweeps over me.
Goose bumps rise in warning on my arms, itching me through my sweatshirt.
Something doesn’t feel right. I look out at the enormous snow-covered crag at the far end of the clearing.
It’s an abscess bulging from the earth. Beneath it is a thirty-foot drop.
If you stand at the edge and look out, there is an insane view.
But none of us would dare to go close to the edge, not in winter, not in any kind of weather.
Then, I realize what the prickly sensation is. It feels like someone’s watching us.
This, of course, is not possible. We are hidden behind our illusion spell.
A spell we have mastered and tested time after time.
Despite knowing this, fear compels me to glance around.
I see the aspen trees around us and the dark, lurking conifers beyond them.
There’s the crag and the expanse beyond that.
Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, even though my body is telling me otherwise.
We stand in our usual places. Elena to my left, Sophie to my right, and Joey directly across from me. I’m still wary as I hand Sophie the book, but I tell myself to calm down. It’s nothing. It’s just me being in my head too much.
In my hands, the spell book looks old, its black edges frayed.
My favorite black and gold ring—a gift from my grandma—catches an arc of sunshine and reflects a dagger of light.
Sophie takes the book. Without opening it, she sets it on a lump of snow in the center of the circle and lays a hand on it, reverently.
The rest of us take a seat on the cold ground.
I try, but I can’t shake the weird, creepy feeling.
“Wait,” I say.
They look at me with surprise.
“What if we tried a time-turning spell? If it works, Sophie can just retake the test now that she knows all the answers.” Something suddenly lathers and foams inside me, an urge to try something new, as if it might somehow scratch an itch.
“Really?” says Joey, skeptically. “It’s never worked before.” She’s right. We’ve tried it. My mom even tried it back when she was our age. It hasn’t worked for generations.
“I just… I have a good feeling,” I say, and I think it’s true. Maybe this strange sensation is just me being hyperaware. I can’t exactly say why, but I just don’t think I’ll be satisfied with a simple, benign spell today.
There’s a long silence, during which no one disagrees. Their eyes connect with one another’s.
“We can try it,” Sophie says. I can tell she doesn’t want to, but she wouldn’t say no to a fly.
Elena shrugs, and Joey gives a resigned, “Whatever.”
Excitement spreads through me, warm and thick.
I say nothing, though, just nod to Sophie and close my eyes.
This is her cue to begin. In another second, I know she is raising her hands above her head.
She is channeling. It’s almost religious, the way the magic comes to us.
It’s second nature now. We’ve done spells more than a hundred times.
The trees wait in quiet contemplation. Inside Sophie’s head, I know she’s cleared all her thoughts except one.
She has to start channeling with a specific vision, a focal point.
If we were doing an illusion spell, that vision would be of the object or objects she wants to draw an illusion over and what she wants to replace them with.
In the case of a time-turning spell, I think it would be a specific point in time.
The silence drags on too long, and I open one eye. Sophie is still standing with her arms raised, but she’s staring down at the book with a frown.
“It’s not working,” she whispers. Joey and Elena open their eyes too.
“Did you clear your thoughts?” My tone is sharper than I mean it to be.
“Yes,” she says, defensive.
The book is still closed in the center of the circle, and it’s obvious nothing has happened. It should be opening to a blank page—any page, all of them are blank—and words should be appearing there.
“Dammit,” I say.
“Told you,” says Joey. She’s frowning, clearly annoyed that we even entertained the idea.
Elena claps her hands together. “Well then, we have confirmed that we still can’t turn time. Let’s just do the illusion spell for Sophie’s test. It’s fucking freezing out here.”
Sophie nods her assent. But I’m disappointed.
Strangely, I think of my dad. I think of his bumper crunching into the telephone pole at Second and Front Street at four in the afternoon yesterday, and the way he stumbled out, splashing vomit onto the sidewalk.
I wasn’t embarrassed, although who knows how many people saw.
What bothers me is that I couldn’t help him, even though I can do magic.
He’s changing into a man I don’t recognize, and no simple illusion or summoning or wound-healing spell can change that.
It’s made me wonder, for the first time ever, what the point of the magic is.
They’re all looking at me. How could I possibly explain all this? In the end, I just say, “Fine. Illusion spell.”
“You okay?” Sophie asks and gently places a mud-splattered hand on my shoulder.
I change tack, shove the confused thoughts away. “I’m good.” My voice squeaks with the lie.
Joey’s frown deepens, and Sophie looks at me quizzically.
But Elena squawks. “Clearly.” She gives me an ironic thumbs-up, but she doesn’t ask what’s wrong. None of them do. They think I will tell them what’s wrong when I’m ready to. They trust me enough to do that.
But, for the first time, I’m not sure they should.
We resume our positions, and I try to forget about my dad, about how I’m feeling. I smile as genuinely as I can, and they seem relieved. We refocus.
Sophie starts the illusion spell, and I surrender to the magic as it fills me.
This time it seems to be working. It feels familiar, like liquid sunlight tumbling through my veins.
It’s hot and bright and fast. And then I’m a tiny cup under a gushing tap.
The magic spills over, making me open my eyes.
We all do. Sophie drops to her knees, and we lean in.
This is the part when we can see the spell in action, and, despite it all, it’s still amazing.
The book opens on its own, and a page that was blank before suddenly fills and fills with words.
This is how the magic always works. Our presence in this aspen grove turns on the tap, then we concentrate on the spell, and the pages of the blank book begin to fill.
We read from the page to set the spell in motion.
Once it’s done, the words disappear again.
Before us, crimson letters creep across the page, as if written by a pen dipped in blood by some invisible hand. We’re mesmerized.
Somewhere close by, there is a sudden revving sound that makes us all jump. It sounds like a dirt bike.
I whip my face around, jaw clenched in fear.
The bike sounds far too close. Joey and Elena and Sophie have heard it too.
For a second, it seems like it’s coming toward us, but then the sound stops abruptly.
We wait for it to come back, but nothing happens.
The aspen trees are silent, slim, and watchful.
Tender young saplings crowd the space at their feet. All is quiet.
Sophie takes a deep breath, realigning our attention back to the book. “Right,” she says. “Here we go,” and she starts to read.