Her mom sighed. “Just... promise us you won’t keep carrying this alone anymore.” She didn’t say it as a reprimand, just as a truth. A plea.
Riya nodded once. “...Okay.” She wiped at her eyes again. “Okay. Thank you. I should get back to work. There’s still time to fix this. Barely. It probably won’t change anything, but I can’t just sit here.”
Sirah khala gave the smallest nod. No instruction. No comfort. Just unwavering belief.
Riya moved toward the stairs—but as she reached the first step, she paused. Her hand closed around the banister, cool beneath her fingertips, leaving chalk marks on the wood.
And then the memories came.
Not all at once. Not like a wave. But like a thread—tugged loose from somewhere deep.
The way she’d stood outside the principal’s office in eighth grade, fists clenched, heart thrumming, waiting to tell someone—anyone—what she’d seen. The way her hands had trembled later, after the spell. The way she’d crumpled into Sirah khala’s arms when the consequencescaught up: Memories erased. A scar that never quite faded.
And the boy. The one whose name she’d never learned. The one who’d disappeared.
She turned back to the room, her voice soft. “Do you—does anyone know what happened to that boy who’d been bullied? The one from eighth grade?”
The question hung in the air, suspended like dust in sunlight. Then Amara tilted her head, her expression soft, unreadable. She and Nyra exchanged knowing looks with their parents.
“I think that’s his story to tell,” Amara said finally.
Riya didn’t look away. Not immediately. But after a moment, she nodded—once, slow, in acknowledgment.
She knew. Maybe she’d known for a while.
And for a moment she wondered if—just maybe—the magic had known, too.
Chapter 32
On Friday, the hallways pulsed with noise—lockers slamming shut, seniors singing in the halls, underclassmen rushing to class. But Riya didn’t hear any of it.
Because there, taped next to her locker, was asingle—thank God—black petunia.
And a note.See you Monday.
Riya frowned. Turned the paper over. Checked for more. Nothing.
Monday?
Dread snaked through her chest. Kian’s Berklee audition was in four days. All weekend, she’d be buried in last-minute Talent Show prep—final checks, tech cues, stage wrangling. And Monday was the day of the show, not to mention the day the curse would become permanent.
She didn’t even have time to celebrate the fact that just this morning, she’d finally turned in her Caltech essay—with about a week to spare. It didn’t feel like the triumph she’d expected. If anything, she couldn’t remember why it had ever felt so sacred.
Her grip on the note tightened. She didn’t have time for another mystery.
She turned just in time to see Mel bounding toward her.
“Hey.” Riya slipped the note into her pocket. “Have you seen Kian today?”
Mel’s eyes flicked to the petunia. “No—but... is that from him?”
Riya nodded once. “Yeah, but I haven’t seen him today, and it’s making me anxious.”
Mel hesitated. “Maybe he’s busy planning a surprise? Or working on a way to break the curse?” She played with a lock of hair. “Oooh, maybe an interpretive dance, or—”
“Do you know something?”
“Me? No! Why would I know anything?” Mel laughed, then cleared her throat. “Anyway, I’ve been trying not to push, but... are you okay? Like, actually okay?”
