Bea chewed on her lower lip, considering. “I know everyone is waiting for me to find my affinity. They expect it to be something flashy and exciting. When Eva first showed her affinity, she almost flooded the whole house.”
I laughed out loud. “The tracks,” I said.
“But it seems to be that way for everyone—the first time they show their affinity, it’s obvious. Sometimes I wonder if I have any magic at all.” This last statement came out in a whisper, a confession she was almost ashamed to speak out loud.
I felt a pang, not just for her, but for me. “You know, Bea, I’ve worried about the same thing?”
Bea’s eyes went wide. “You? But… the beach… I’ve heard my sister talk about it, when she thought I couldn’t hear.”
I nodded. “Did you know that was the first sign of magic I ever showed?”
I had the satisfaction of watching Bea’s mouth fall open. “Ever?”
“Ever.”
“But… how?”
“I’m not really sure. I’m sure part of it was that my mom never let me near anything related to witchcraft. I didn’t even know about our family history. So, I never really had a chance to test my magic, and see how it manifested. It wasn’t until that moment on the beach that I felt the spark, and I realized what I could do.”
Bea didn’t seem capable of replying. Her mouth was still hanging wide.
I pointed to the sketchbook in her hand. “There’s magic in there, Bea. I can feel it. Can’t you?”
Bea looked down at her sketchbook. “I… I don’t know. Sometimes, I think I can.”
“Trust yourself,” I told her. “Magic doesn’t have to be flashy. It doesn’t have to be big to be powerful, and it doesn’t have to look like everyone else’s to be real. Be patient with yourself. If you asked me when I was ten if I had any magic, I would have laughed in your face; and now half of this town full of witches is terrified I’m going to call the elements to destroy them. And can I tell you a secret?”
Bea nodded eagerly. I leaned in, dropping my voice to a whisper.
“I have no idea how I did it.”
I had told her because I wanted her to feel better, and yet saying it out loud mademefeel better… lighter, somehow. It was a confession I needed to get off my chest, to someone who wouldn’t just brush it off. In a weird way, Bea was the perfect person to tell.
“We’re all just figuring it out as we go… the big kids, too,” I told her.
Bea’s lips curved into a smile. Then she said, “I wasn’t just spying, you know. I was trying to help. With the pageant.”
“Oh! Well, you’ve probably noticed we could use all the help we can get. How did you want to help?”
“I saw all the stuff you got from the theater, and I thought… well, the masks are cool, but they could be cooler if we painted them.”
I looked over at the giant gold comedy and tragedy masks propped against Eva’s wall.
“Painted how?” I asked.
Bea flipped ahead a few pages in her sketchbook, and held it up for me to see. She had created two images, one of the Holly King and one of the Oak King. It was clear she was inspired by what we’d already borrowed from the theater—the figures were dressed in long cloaks and had the greenery and the headpieces like the ones we had found, but she had pulled it all together into something cohesive and arresting. The masks were detailed now, not just in solid gold, but painted to look like terrible ancient faces. She had added other details I hadn’t thought of—icicles and frost to the Holly King, and a collar on the Oak King’s cloak that looked like the sun rising behind his head.
“These are amazing, Bea!” I gasped. “Do you think you could actually paint the masks to look like this?”
Bea nodded. “I love to paint, too. And I thought we could use?—”
At that moment, the door opened, and Eva walked back in carrying a tray of snacks. Bea snapped her mouth shut with an audible click, clamming up at once under her sister’s frustrated gaze.
“Bea, I told you to—oh,” she said, stopping short. She looked surprised to see me sitting on the floor of her closet.
“It’s my fault,” I told Eva. “I held her up. We were just chatting.”
Eva looked at me, her eyes full of questions, but she nodded, accepting the excuse.
