Page 37 of Woods of the Raven

Jesus Hernandez rolled his eyes, forked over the money, and said I should be hearing from Mr. Samuels sometime next week.

“That’s good news,” Eddie said, looking up from his tablet and smiling at me. “I know you like to work.”

“I do,” I agreed, moving over beside him. “And thank you for giving me a break so I can get something to eat.”

“No worries, take your time. I’d rather sit back here and sell your stones and bottles to people than walk around with Her Majesty.”

I grinned at him.

“Don’t tell her I said that, or I’ll sign you up to tutor people on how to read tarot cards or have fun with séances.”

“You’re a bad person,” I informed him.

Eddie laughed at me, which was just mean.

It was my time to get all kinds of horrible things I never normally ate, plus feed Eddie things Amanda had banned from her house. I got us deep-fried bean and cheese burritos on sticks, cheese fries with jalapeños, two enormous Pepsis the vendors didn’t even have lids for, and an entire trough of onion rings with ketchup and ranch and tartar sauce, which I knew was gross but loved anyway. I had a drink in each hand and bags hanging off both arms by the time I got back. Eddie’s face went from bored to ecstatic as soon as I reached him.

“I take back all my threats to your peace of mind,” he assured me.

Blythe Babcock—I’d always loved her name—came by to pick up my donation for the animal shelter and asked what she could do for me.

“Your plaque in our lobby is already the biggest,” she said, smiling at me, taking the zippered bank bag she’d given me that morning. “My goodness, Xan, every year you give so much of yourself to the shelter.”

“One of these days, they’ll all find homes, and then you and I can go on vacation in the fall,” I teased her.

She took my hands in hers. “That’s exactly what we’ll do.”

Amanda had no idea where my booth was and was horrified when she finally found us, me and Eddie eating more crap that he’d gone to get, plus a second helping of chili fries. She had people I didn’t know with her, probably some of her friends from out of town. Lots of folks visited on the weekend of the festival. I was looking forward to not being there the following day. One day, Saturday, was more than enough.

I noticed that Toby was hanging back, looking at the stones, crystals, bottles, and candles I had left. He was smelling the tea as well.

“C’mere,” I said, calling him over to where I was sitting.

He left his mother instantly, running to reach me.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked him. “Did you eat too much junk?”

He shook his head, watching JJ compete with their father for the chili fries everyone was stunned the toddler was eating.

“Then what?”

He pressed his lips together.

“You know you can tell me.”

Leaning in close to my ear, Toby took a breath and said, “I want a bottle for my teacher, Mrs. Latham.”

“How come?” I asked, easing back to see his face.

“She’s really sad.”

“Do you know why?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Okay, pick one you think she’d like.”

I loved seeing his eyes light up as he darted around the table to look. I knew it would take him a while; he wasn’t the kind of kid who ever made instant decisions. He always took his time, even when picking toys or deciding between the park and the beach. He was a muller.