Page 26 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

“You have made this day radiant.” The jinn lifted the mysterious necklace up from around their neck. “Please take this as my thanks for our time together.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Dahlia protested.

“I know. Now hush and take the trinket.” Kiki looped the necklace over Dahlia’s neck.

Dahlia was transfixed by the ring on the end of the chain. Jokingly, she asked, “Does it grant wishes?”

“Depends on the wish.” Kiki grinned mysteriously. They and Dahlia hugged goodbye.

“I’ll walk you out.” Talula made her way to the door. Simon followed. “Okay, I guess, we will walk you out.”

Suddenly, Talula’s phone buzzed with a flurry of text replies from her mother.

The Council said that your teacher should be there already.

Tell Kiki I say hi!

Show them this cute jinn emoji I found!

Talula frowned at the confusing text. Maybe her new magic teacher was waiting for her at the house? She tucked her phone back into her pocket—that was a worry for later.

Talula, Dahlia, and Simon strolled through the café’s front door, the cool night whispering over their skin.

As Dahlia turned to go, Talula blurted out, “Can I ask you something?”

Dahlia cocked her head curiously. “Go ahead.”

“Why wouldn’t you wish for your dad to come back?”

Dahlia’s gaze dropped to her feet. For several long seconds, Talula was convinced Dahlia would never speak to her again. Finally, Dahlia spoke.

“First of all, I read ‘The Monkey’s Paw’ in ninth grade. Wishing for lost loved ones to return never turns out well. Second of all…” Dahlia scrubbed at her face with her hand. “I have to believe that he’s still here watching over me, and proud as hell that I’m finally listening to what he’s been trying to tell me my whole life.”

Talula didn’t think. Didn’t blink. She wrapped her arms around Dahlia. Dahlia tucked herself into Talula’s embrace with a sigh. Talula felt a quiet sob shudder through Dahlia’s body, and she tightened her grasp.

“Sorry,” Dahlia murmured into Talula’s shoulder. “The grief sneaks up on me sometimes.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Talula said softly, wishing she could press a kiss to Dahlia’s hair.

“Thank you.” Dahlia sniffled. “For everything, but also specifically the sandwiches.”

“Just do me a favor?” Talula said.

Dahlia nodded against her shoulder.

“Don’t make cold quesadillas anymore. It’s deeply upsetting. Call me, and I’ll bring you something better.”

Talula didn’t hear Dahlia’s silent, hiccuping laughter. She felt it, against her chest, across her skin, warming her blood like the glow of summer. Slowly, they pulled apart, and the light in Talula’s chest went slightly dim.

“I promise.” Dahlia pulled out her phone. “But I don’t have your number.”

Time stopped as Talula looked at the phone. If Talula did this, she wouldn’t just be the girl behind the counter. She’d be a person who did things after work and answered texts late at night. Possibly tipsy on wine while online shopping. She would be exposed. She would be Talula.

A second went by. Then Talula’s thumbs swept across the screen. In an act of true bisexual boldness, she added a sparkle emoji next to her name.

“No more cold quesadillas?” Talula asked (not quite asking the right question).

“No more cold quesadillas,” Dahlia said seriously.