***
Minutes later, they are outside, hiking the familiar old trail that leads to the spell circle. Sophie follows Joey and Elena over the lattice of downed logs. When her shoes sink into the soft dirt on the other side, it’s at once familiar and satisfying. A text hums from the depths of her bag. She rifles through receipts and pacifiers and tissue packets to pluck it free.
A message from Talia.Leah has a fever.
Sophie worries at the drawstring of her hoodie. Talia’s never done sick-kid parenting on her own. Sophie is the one who administers Tylenol and who takes temperatures, even in the middle of the night. Sophie is the one who lies awake, fearing that the sleep sack is too hot, that the room is too cold, or that she will miss some hidden danger should her eyes close.
Now, an image starts to come through. It takes a second to load, and Sophie is tense with anticipation. It’s Leah. Her cheeks are red, her eyes wet-rimmed, and she clutches her favorite elephant blankie. Another message from Talia.My mom is here to help. Just call us later. Love you.
Sophie’s about to type out a reply when she sees that she has no service. She considers going back, but then she sees the slender foot-trodden path, lined with shimmering green aspen leaves. It rolls out before her like a bridge to the past. Slowly and with real effort, because she’s not sure she’s making the right decision, she slips the phone back into her pocket.They’ll be fine without me,she says to herself, and she almost believes it.
Summer is almost here, and the aspens always signal it first. It occurs to her that this trail isn’t hidden anymore. The illusion spell that used to hide it has long since worn off—it would have been ten years ago now. Illusion spells need to be updated, since they only last for five years, but she and Elena have been gone fifteen. This fact reminds her how invincible they once felt. And how wrong they were to feel that way.
“So now that we’re a mile out of earshot of the pregnant cop, can you tell us why we’re out here?” Elena avoids an elbow-shaped root that juts above the ground. Her incongruous black boots look like a cross between army-issued and Spice Girl.
Joey plods on. “Let’s just get there first,” she says over her shoulder.
They walk for several minutes in silence, and soon, Sophie settles into the rhythm of their footfalls as they sidestep puddles. It smells of fresh spring mud. Busy birds converse above their heads. Spots of sun fleck the ground like splatters of paint.
Soon, though, they are at the spell circle, and memories press into her chest. Why is it always the happy ones that hurt the most?
Joey breaks the moment by turning to face them. “So,” she says, “I was hoping that maybe, if the trees oblige, you could hear it for yourself.”
Sophie tosses a glance at Elena, who returns it.
“Maybe it sounds stupid,” says Joey. “But I think if you could just hear them for yourselves…”
“How exactly are we supposed to do that?” Elena seems annoyed.
“I thought we could try to channel the magic.”
“No book,” Elena reminds her.
Sophie has ached for the magic over the years—not in the same way she ached for their friendship or for Quinn—but she remembers how powerful the magic used to make her feel. And then the book disappeared around the same time as Quinn’s death, and she knew they would never get that feeling back. As years passed, Sophie learned to silence her inner voice. It repeatedly warned her that by leaving Whisper Ridge and not finding the book, she was not protecting the magic. And yet, as much as she tried to silence that voice, another, devastated voice grew louder. They may have been responsible for protecting the magic, yes, but was the magic not at all responsible for protecting them? It did not help them when they needed it most. Shefeels it now—the strange combination of love and resentment. Like two daggers in her side.
Joey is undeterred. “I didn’t have the book when the trees whispered to me on Monday. And somehow it still worked.”
Silence drips from the branches all around them. It creeps along the earth and fills every space inside the clearing.
Then Elena clears her throat. “Let’s get this over with.”
Sophie isn’t sure if she wants to encourage Joey, but she wonders if maybe, when this doesn’t happen how she wants it to, Joey will realize that the trees never whispered at all.
Joey closes her eyes and so does Elena, after a questioning glance at Sophie. Sophie shrugs and decides she might as well follow through. She tries to focus her mind like she used to.Trees, whisper to me, she thinks, and she feels ridiculous. There is no book in front of them to catch any spells. This is entirely pointless, but she goes through the motions anyway. A minute passes. Two minutes. Three. Elena sniffles.
Eventually, they open their eyes. “Fuck.” Joey stomps out of the spell circle and toward the crag.
Sophie’s heart cracks, and she hurries after her. The top of the rock is crusted with lichen. Careful steps bring her up to the edge. She spreads her toes inside her shoes for balance. It’s a rush, looking down. Inches from the tip of her shoe, the rock face ends sharply where some ancient ice shelf or landslide or crack of lightning lopped it off. She’d guess it’s about thirty feet down. A sheer drop. Below them, a cluster of sharp peaks wait like hungry piranhas, one among them the peak that ultimately ended Quinn’s life. One wrong step, a slip on a rainy afternoon. Life is so unfair.
She coughs quietly. “Joey, listen. Would it be okay if I gave you my therapist’s number? She’s incredible. The real love of my life.”
Joey says nothing, just stares down at the space below them, as if searching for an answer there. Sophie continues carefully. “She doesvirtual appointments. I really think you might benefit from talking to someone. If you want.” She stops to give Joey a chance to think it through.
Elena, who lingered in the spell circle for a while, steps up alongside them.
“It’s not just Quinn,” says Joey. “We were supposed to protect the magic too. We haven’t seen the book for fifteen years.”
“We were busy grieving. I think that’s reasonable,” says Sophie, lacing her fingers through Joey’s, grateful that she lets her.
