Page 49 of A Hexcellent Chance to Fall in Love
Until the Store Closes
Christina
How to break a curse.
I type this into the search engine as I settle into the teachers’ lounge for lunch.
Ever since Pepper gave me the rundown on what happened, I haven’t been able to think about anything else.
She said we already tried everything, but have we?
The only way I’ll be sure is if I try it all—again, I guess.
And luckily the internet is amazing. Literally every ridiculous idea is right at my fingertips. The trouble is…where do we start?
The suggestions that come up are wild. The first post is a poem about boiling lemon balm and drinking it with hummingbird bones.
Where would I even find such a thing? I open another tab and type, Can you buy hummingbird bones , and surprisingly it’s possible.
I jot it down on my list to discuss with Pepper later.
Another post suggests that the curse is there because the person allows it to have power over them—which is entirely unhelpful and obviously written by someone who has never been cursed.
And then there are a number of posts that suggest the only way to break a curse is by accepting Jesus Christ into your life.
I’m not anti-religious or anything, but I have serious doubts about following a book that was written years after this person supposedly walked the earth and then it was translated and edited a million times over by mostly men.
Call me a skeptic, but it would feel no different than accepting Peter Rabbit into my life—which also probably wouldn’t do anything to help break this curse.
“What are you doing?” Cami pulls the chair out next to me and struggles to sit down. Her due date is coming up fast. She glances at my screen. “Occults? Are you already thinking about next year’s theme?” Thank god there’s a reasonable explanation for my very suspicious online activities.
I set my phone down and open my leftover take-out container. It’ll be a miracle when I can get back to the grocery store. “What are your feelings about witchcraft?”
She opens her lunch and pulls out a sandwich. “I know we were taught to fear witches when we really should’ve been worried about the people burning them. Why do you ask?” She takes a bite, crunching through something.
“What are you eating?”
“Ham and cheese with mayo and Oreos,” she says, and I frown, not on purpose, but because, what ? “Don’t knock it till you try it,” she says around a mouthful.
I hold up my hands. Pregnancy cravings are weird, and I know better than to question her, especially when she’s hungry. “You just caught me off guard. It sounds interestingly delicious.” I try to make up for the fact that my face does not hide my emotions about her lunch choice.
“What’s with the witch questions?” She moves the conversation along, thankfully.
I could attempt to explain Pepper’s situation, but we only have twenty minutes before we have to get back to class. “Just haunted house stuff. So what would you do if you thought you were cursed?”
“Okay, I’ll play along.” She leans back in her chair and sets a bag of jalapeno kettle chips on her stomach like it’s a table. “I guess I’d try to figure out who I pissed off to get cursed in the first place and then see if I could get them to reverse it.”
“And if it wasn’t a person per se but, like, a place or a thing?”
She munches on a chip thoughtfully. “Can you destroy it?”
That’s an excellent question. “I don’t know.”
She grabs another chip from the bag. “Then I’d start there.” She pops it in her mouth before taking a bite of her sandwich.
Destroy the thing that’s cursing you. It’s not a bad idea, but how?
Trying to burn down the store seems like it might be a little too risky—especially since arson is a felony—but it’s not completely off the table.
How would one go about researching how to commit arson and get away with it without getting caught? Does incognito mode work for that?
“I’ve lost you,” Cami says.
“Sorry. It’s opening night, and I’m a little all over the place.” I swirl some chow mein noodles on a fork. I could heat them up, but that would take too long.
“Oh shit, that’s right. How’d I forget it was tonight?”
“Probably because you’re busy making a whole-ass human being.” I nod toward her belly.
“I think I lost my mucus plug.”
This time I make sure I don’t make a facial reaction, but again, what ? “Is that bad?”
“Nah. It means I’ll probably go into labor soon.” She takes another bite of her sandwich like this isn’t a big deal.
“What the hell are you doing here, then?” For someone—me—who has never had a baby and doesn’t want to see what it looks like to have one, it seems like a very big deal, and one she should have a plan for that isn’t eating a weird sandwich in the teachers’ lounge.
“I haven’t had any real contractions, only some Braxton-Hicks. Plus, I don’t want to waste any of my maternity leave until it’s absolutely necessary.”
I shake my head. Our country is super messed up. “That sucks. I’m sorry. But I guess I don’t have to worry about you needing to use…” I gesture to the old green couch.
“Not your fault. And I’d have the baby right here before I sat on that thing and delivered it.
” She makes a face like the couch is the grossest thing in the world—and she’s correct about that.
“Back to your curse question, though. There’s a psychic out past that taco truck.
You could always go check it out for ideas. ”
“How do you know that?”
“I went and got a reading last week,” she says.
“I wanted reassurance that everything was going to be okay.” She rubs her belly.
“It’s silly, I know, but the power of positive thoughts and all that.
Plus, maybe they could be fun to have out for next year or something. Do some readings outside on the lawn.”
There’s power in positive thoughts—at least that’s something Pepper would say. “I’ll go check it out for future ideas. Thanks.”
“I can’t wait to see what next year’s theme is, because it’s already sounding really cool.”
If she only knew.