“What’s the point of being out here?” Harlow moaned from a few yards away, her back against one of the crumbling buildings. Paisley imagined the house collapsing on her like they were in a cartoon. It was the only thing keeping Paisley’s hands on task. “We could’ve built a fucking fire back at the campsite.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Paisley snapped back. “Did you drink too much because you had to impress some loser guy you’ll never see again? This was supposed to be a girls’ trip. Anything you did to fuck that up isn’t going to get you sympathy from me.”
“Guys,” Opal said, pulling her knees into her chest as she sat by Paisley’s growing firepit. “Can we please not fight?”
“Then Paisley can tell us why we needed to come out here so badly.”
Paisley wanted it to be the kind of situation where Harlow and Opal didn’t ask questions. They never did before this. Besides, it wasn’t anything they’d understand. What did Harlow Spielman and Opal Bushida have to wish for, anyway? Harlow had a loving family who’d financially support any fashion college she wanted to attend. Opal’s dad was an active filmmaker, she had enough money to buy her way anywhere,andshe even had the grades to back it up. Nothing in their lives was difficult. They didn’t need any more luck. No need to bringin anything to do with faith beyond what they could see right in front of them.
But Paisley needed that.
“I told you,” Paisley said. “There’s a special energy tonight. We’re doing a good luck ritual. Something powerful that’ll carry through for years.” Paisley glared down at the spitting flames. “Literally all we have to do is put in a hair and say some words. Can’t you guys just have a little fun?”
She could feel Harlow’s burning gaze as she finished with the last of the kindling. Harlow made her way over to the firepit right as Paisley lit it, the orange dancing against Harlow’s eyes.
“Is it gonna manifest the witch too?” Harlow asked, her tone sickly sweet.
“No!” Opal said. “No witch! We’re not messing with that!”
“It’s not the witch,” Paisley said.
She didn’t intend to involve any witch, anyway. She didn’t even believe in witches; the magical unknown of the universe was more nebulous than that. It was why the afterlife always felt like both a comforting concept to her and one that everyone got wrong. It wasn’t paradise in the clouds; it wasn’t even people lingering as poltergeists in houses or ghost towns. It was just the continuation of energy that could never die. Something people didn’t have the capacity to understand. That’s what her mom had always told her.
But if that was what had to be tapped into to get the power of this spell, then so be it.
“Let’s not do a ritual,” Opal continued. “Why mess with things? Can’t you just wish on a shooting star?”
Wish on a shooting star.God, she could punch Opal right about now.
“We can’t do that,” Paisley said between gritted teeth with clenched fists. “The ritual started yesterday. If we don’t complete it, it has the opposite effect. I’m not fucking up my whole future because you two are too lazy to say a few words.”
Harlow stepped closer to Paisley. “What are you even trying to do here? Go do your stupid fucking incantation yourself. I’m Jewish, not Wiccan. Where did you even get this idea? From your woo-woo mom you make fun of every day?”
Heat burned under Paisley’s skin. “This is serious. I already started the ritual.”
Harlow threw her hands up. “When? What are youtalking about?”
Harlow and Opal were never her real friends. They cut out at the first sign of who Paisley really was. Emma lasted through a few discussions of witches and spells, but deep down, she knew Emma would’ve run too.
But at least Emma would’ve gone through with the ritual. At least Emma had a little imagination.
“I have to spend the rest of my life in an industry where all but a select few fail,” Paisley said as she got right back in Harlow’s face. Close enough to smell the alcohol on her breath. “And it’s already been so shitty. So yeah, I’m going to do everything in my power to turn the universe in my favor. I’d think,” she shot a glance over at Opal, who had her hands covering her mouth, “myfriendswould do everything they could too.”
For a moment, Harlow’s expression was blank, processing. Paisley could picture it, the way Harlow’s expression crumbled when she realized it wasn’t worth fighting over.
But Harlow’s mouth went stiff in a scowl. “When did you start this ritual?” Harlow asked.
“Last night!” Paisley screeched. “I came here early! Is that what you want to hear?”
Silence ripped through the group.
Then Harlow started laughing.
“Wait,” Harlow said, her voice suddenly high. Nails on a chalkboard. “You drove out heretwicefor some stupidritual?” Harlow put a hand on Paisley’s shoulder. “You’ve totally lost it, Pais. Get a fucking grip. So you didn’t get some TV role. You don’t need to go all maniac over it.” Harlow turned to Opal. “Come on, Opal. Let’s go back to the campsite. I’m exhausted.”
Paisley needed to finish this ritual tonight. If Paisley didn’t finish this ritual tonight, her fortune would go belly-up. All her ambition met with a lifetime’s worth of failure. She wouldn’t even make it in one film role like her mom. She’d fail before she even started, losing any chance of ever continuing her mom’s legacy, of making it better. She couldn’t be like Beck. She couldn’t be a failure in her mother’s eyes. She couldn’t let the universe keep doing this to her.
When Harlow tried to step away, Paisley grabbed her by the hair. “You’re not leaving.”
