Onny waited. True was two degrees left of feral, but with that came a ferocious loyalty, one that Onny never doubted. Call it prophetic, but Onny knew exactly what would happen next.
“Three, two…” said Onny softly.
Ping!
True:Out of concern for the welfare of Moon Ridge, I’ll pick up the ~potions~ myself. See you in 10.
Onny:<3333 Ily
True:Grrr.
Ash:Why’d the potions take so long?
Onny:Oooh! Eager, are we?
Ash:No.
Onny:Yes.
Ash:No.
True:Cassidy Rivera.
Ash:NO.
Onny:Methinks Ash doth protest too much.
True began spamming the group chat with heart emojis, and before Onny could respond, she heard her mother hollering up the stairs:
“YOUR FATHER IS EATING ALL THE COOKIES! REMOVE HIM FROM MY PRESENCE!”
Onny winced, then put down her phone.Thiswas the reason why it had taken so long to get all the ingredients together. The whole “thorny leaves soften in the moonlight” was pretty easy, thanks to her mother’s greenhouse in the backyard, which had, of all things, a sarsaparilla plant with thorny leaves. But earth that had been “joyously and spontaneously danced upon”? Onny briefly considered yelling: “IMPROMPTU DANCE PARTY” inthe cafeteria, but (1) what if no one danced? and (2) if theydidstart dancing, they’d probably find it weird if she threw a handful of dirt in the air and shouted: “DANCE, MY LOVELIES, DANCE! THY ENERGY SHALL FUEL MY POTIONS!”
So.
Instead, Onny had to play her mother’s favorite Janet Jackson playlist in the garden, falsely compliment her father on his dancing moves—Antonio Diamante could do many things, but dancing was not one of them—and then hang out with her parents, offering weak encouragements until they eventually twirled around for a bit. The moment that happened, she had cut the music, shooed them inside, and pulled up some of the grass where they had danced.
The next hurdle was the whole “beautiful flower that has witnessed a kiss.”
For a week straight, Onny had carried around a sprig of her favoriteMatthiola incanain her hair, trying to catch the high school couples in the midst of kissing. One would imagine that it wouldn’t be particularly hard, but Mr. Brightside had an uncanny habit of popping up whenever anyone got too close, and True had pointed out that people were beginning to wonder what Onny Diamante was doing awkwardly standing in the middle of dark hallways.
“I’m trying to get us everlasting love!” said Onny.
“Well, it’s going to be everlasting creepy if you don’t stop,” said True.
Thus, Onny was forced to lurk outside the band room trying to catch half the marching band in the midst of a kiss before itturned into, well, a lot more than kissing. Onny had tilted her head, angling up her chin as if she could give the flower sprig in her hair a better view. One couple scooted close together. Onny couldn’t remember their real names, but True called them “Scott and Pre-Travis Kourtney” because they were always breaking up. The band room was dark, instruments lined up against the wall. “Scott” grinned, “Kourtney” angled her face, Onny awkwardly inched toward the window door, and—
“Do I evenwantto know what the hell you’re doing?”
Onny spun around. A tall, dark, and impeccably dressed Byron Frost stared down at her. Was he wearing a suit? At 3P.M.?Why?He glanced over her shoulder to the band room and raised an eyebrow.
“Voyeurism is a weird pastime,” he said. “Can’t imagine that looking great on a college app. Oh well, less competition for me.”
“I am not… voyeur-ing! Voyeurizing? Is that even a word? Whatever,” said Onny, flapping a hand at him. “Go away, Byron, or—”
But when she glanced through the window, “Scott” and “Kourtney” were gone.
Byron must have spooked them.
