‘His date!’
I knew she was messing with me but I still fell for it. Lydia paused to bounce her pointer finger against the tip of her nose. ‘And what terrible ailment struck down this alleged date?’
‘Appendicitis.’
‘Ri-i-i-i-i-i-i-ight.’
She stretched the word out just long enough to make it clear she didn’t believe me.
‘It’s not a date,’ I said, my voice hot. ‘I’m doing him a favour, don’t make it weird.’
‘One question. Did he happen to mention this supposed date’s name?’
I bit my lip, racking my brains. He had not.
‘Because I hadn’t heard anything about a date or a girl with a burst appendix, and that kind of news travels weirdly fast,’ she said. ‘And if I was trying to get someone to go on a date with me who definitely was not inclined to agree to go on a date with me, inventing a hospitalized hottie wouldn’t be the furthest thought from my mind.’
‘That’s because you’re a terrible person,’ I said, and she laughed. ‘No one would make up something like that.’
Propping herself up on her elbows, exactly the way Jackson had the night before, Lydia grinned. ‘Sure, babe.’
‘Besides,’ I added, picking at a few strands of sun-scorched grass by my side. ‘He knows I’m in love with Wyn.’
‘He also knows Wyn hasn’t been around lately.’
I flashed a warning look in her direction.
‘Which means nothing and I’m not reading into that at all, and Jackson definitely won’t be either, and I can see from the look on your face that you’re completely chill about it so I won’t mention it again ever as long as I live.’
‘Appreciated,’ I replied with a nod.
‘I know!’ She sat up, suddenly excited. ‘Why don’t we casta truth spell? You make the potion and I can sneak it into his gross post-workout smoothie, then we’d know for sure.’
‘You really think the answer is to drug your brother?’
‘Almost always.’
She reached for the necklace that hung from her neck, the silver twin of the gold locket hanging around mine, her eyes wandering across the cemetery. ‘Although, if I were a witch, I could make the potion on my own …’
This again. A variation on the same conversation we’d had a hundred times since I told the twins about their magical ancestors. It wasn’t a total surprise; if there was any chance she had a magical legacy, it made sense that Lydia would want it restored. That much made sense. But the thought of willingly putting her in danger? That was something else entirely.
‘That’s not why we’re here,’ I said, attempting to steer the conversation in a different direction. ‘I was hoping Emma Catherine might make an appearance.’
‘The OG?’
I nodded. ‘Tomorrow is the full moon and I have so many questions. I figured, maybe, if we came to the cemetery …’
‘Well, did you bring a chicken biscuit for her too?’ she asked with a kind smile. ‘No sign of her, huh?’
‘No sign,’ I confirmed. ‘It’s frustrating. What’s the point in having all these abilities if I can’t use them?’
‘I wonder what kind of abilities I would have had.’ Lydia looked contemplative, elbows digging into her thighs, chin resting on her fists. ‘Something cool, for sure. Can witches fly? I would be very open to flying.’
‘Lyds,’ I started slowly, rubbing my locket between my finger and thumb. ‘I wish there was something I could do but—’
‘But once the magic is gone from a family, it’s gone for good. Yeah, I know.’
The July heat weighed down on me, pressing my bones intothe hard ground. Lydia batted the scrunched-up paper bag back and forth in front of her like a kitten with a ball. All that was missing was the tinkle of a bell.
