Riya was not afraid of graveyards.
Nor was she afraid of being caught at one instead of being at Mel’s house for a supposed sleepover. Her mom, half jumping with joy at the prospect of her daughter finally being sociable on a Saturday night, had even shoved a duffel bag in Riya’s hands and offered to pack her overnight things for her.
Still—Riya was beginning to regret her offer to Mel.
First, she and Mel had to hop the iron rod fence into Chester Cemetery, which was locked for the night—a mental struggle for Riya, who did not make a habit of breaking rules, and a physical struggle for Mel, whose insistence on fashion-over-function had its unfortunate disadvantages.
And second, they had to wear all black to blend in, and the only clean black top Riya had was her Caltech sweatshirt, which she’d worn so much it had holes in the sleeves.
But somehow, they’d made it into the cemetery. Onto “pure, hallowed ground,” one of the first requirements for casting a love spell.
As for the spell itself... that was another matter entirely.
Riya hadsomeidea of what to do: half-formed memories of childhood lessons, fragments of knowledge she’d picked up from her khala’s monologues. Like about the time Sirahhelped two women confess their attraction to each other at a pro-choice rally, or about the marriage she saved in a single forty-five-minute life coaching session.
But Riya had never actuallyseenher khala use peri magic.
She didn’t like feeling so unprepared, but there was no one she could ask now: Sirah khala was currently off the grid somewhere in Finland, and Riya’s mom and sisters still avoided the topic of magic the way they avoided eye contact when it was time to clear the dishes.
But it was too late to back out. Not when Mel was literallyskippingbetween the tombstones, crunching fallen leaves under her boots.
“God, the witchy vibes!! The witchy vibes areoff the charts!!” Mel twirled dramatically, her black maxi skirt fanning around her legs. “No wonder so many white women want to be witches. I feelpowerful. I suddenly want to hold hands and spin around a tomb. Or adopt a black cat. Or start an all-women cult.”
Riya rubbed her temple. “I’m happy for you, but I needcompletesilence if I’m going to do this.”
“Fine, fine.” Mel wrapped her arms around herself, as if trying to physically contain all her emotions. “I just can’t believe it’s happening, though! I can’t believe I actually get to see you use your peri magic! What’s it going to look like when you cast the spell? Are you going to float and sprout wings like Sailor Moon? Or is it going to look more like the Sanderson sisters with lots of fun singing?‘I put a spell onyouuu, and now you’re miii—’?”
“Melanie.”
“Sorry.”
Standing in the center of the graveyard, Riya inhaled deeply.
A peri had to cast a love spell beneath the full moon—like tonight’s, hanging fat and ripe in the late-September night sky—and the effects would only last for one lunar cycle. Just enough time, her khala claimed, to “jump start” a relationship.
The real key was intention. Magic, supposedly, would handle the rest.
And finally, while casting, one simply had to imagine the emotional bonds between two people as threads. “I always picturetyingthose threads together. In a cute little bow,” her khala had said.
Riya tried. She really did. But instead of threads, she saw puppet strings: wooden marionettes being jerked around onstage by some unseen hand.
Maybe that was a better metaphor: people stumbling through life, pulled in a dozen directions, each thread crossing and knotting until no one knew who was tugging what. And if Riya wasn’t careful, one wrong pull could send everything toppling down.
She closed her eyes. Breathed.
If she was going to connect anything, or anyone, she needed to start small. Start with what she knew.
So Riya pictured Mel and Andrew as they were now—a good enough place to begin, she figured.
She envisioned Mel’s glittering eyes, her beaming, pink-lined smile; Andrew’s kind face, the way his gaze softened when he looked at her. Their energies were distinct yet complementary: Mel’s colorful and frenetic, Andrew’s steady and warm.
Then, gradually, she let the vision take shape—letting the magic show her what theycouldbecome.
She imagined Mel and Andrew walking through the halls at school, Andrew’s hand wrapped around Mel’s like it belonged there. Mel, flushed and beaming, laughing at something Andrew had whispered in her ear. Riya imagined Mel leaning in to fix Andrew’s crooked collar on Prom night, Andrew’s eyes lingering a second too long. Like they belonged together, and he knew it.
It felt warm. Effortless. Like two puzzle pieces easing into place.
Except—
