Page 4 of A Witch’s Guide to Surviving Halloween

Chapter Three

The streets of Ashwood Haven come alive as night descends.

Twinkling lights in all shades of orange, purple, and green are strung all over Main Street, wrapped around trees, iron lampposts, and colorful awnings.

Their inviting glow reflects off brightly lit storefront windows, all the downtown businesses embracing the late-night influx of shoppers eager to revel in tonight’s festivities.

I, on the other hand, can do nothing but pace back and forth before the stairs leading up to a stage smack dab in the center of town. Or, as I’ve been referring to it in my head, the execution block built for no other purpose than my eternal humiliation.

“Are you ready, Amelia?”

I jump at the offhanded question, too busy tapping my notecards against my palm to notice Stacy’s approach. “Hm?”

She ticks something off on her clipboard with every new thing she sees before her appraising eyes flick to me. My anxiety must be written across my face because her head snaps up, her metal clipboard lowering a couple of inches.

“Are you ready?” Stacy nods with each word, a light panic emphasizing each syllable.

I pluck at the corner of my notecards with a nail, the cards already creased and worn from my anxious fiddling over the last half hour.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m ready.” The words come out in a breathy huff, and I’m not sure whom I’m trying to reassure more, me or her.

With a heavy sigh, Stacy lets the clipboard hang by her side as she reaches out and rests a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll do fine. Tonight’s super easy. Want to run through it again?”

I nearly give myself whiplash nodding so hard, unable to keep from swaying on my feet; my skirt brushes against my knees with each movement.

Behind her, the crowd is already thickening, people packing in tight before the stage.

Soon, I won’t even be able to pick out the other side of Main Street unless I climb the stairs of doom.

“So, all you have to do is wait for my signal, then you’ll go up and announce the parade, which is when I’ll radio down to Luke to start.

Once the parade is over, you’ll give a close-out speech and declare the kick-off to the festival.

That’s it.” She dips down, trying to catch my eye and assure herself that I’m not about to screw up all her meticulous planning. “Okay?”

This time, my nod is small and hesitant, but with one last deep breath, I shake off the last of my jitters and paint on my sunniest smile. “Okay, yes. I can do this. No problem.”

Stacy eyes me, utterly unconvinced by my poor performance, and opens her mouth to say more when the radio hanging on her belt chirps.

Luke’s staticky voice comes through the speaker. “We’re ready on this end. On your go.”

The coordinator (or, as Lucy refers to her, my wrangler) jumps into action, double-checking her intricate stack of lists and tables on her clipboard before holding the radio to her mouth.

“Sounds good. Hold until my signal.” Stacy returns her attention to me, my previous doubts forgotten as she ushers me toward the stage steps. “This is it. You’re going to do great!”

I stumble up the first step, as if my feet are in cahoots with my clenching stomach, trying to keep me safe on the ground.

With one last deep breath, I put all my focus into putting one foot in front of the other, ignoring the weight of hundreds of eyes settling upon me as I climb higher.

I swallow hard and glance at one of the local bands lined up, ready to go.

Their respective guitars and drumsticks anxiously wait to give background music to the coming parade as soon as I do my thing.

They all offer me encouraging smiles, but all I notice is how the world around me grows quiet as the crowd falls silent with anticipation.

The journey to the center of the stage feels like the longest of my life, the microphone stand acting as my finish line.

In an attempt to pretend I’m anywhere but here, I think back to the last book I finished.

During the finale of an epic fantasy series, the heroine spent day after day trudging across harsh landscapes and faced unimaginable evil.

I imagine I’m walking beside her, because somehow the prospect of facing a brooding dragon is far less terrifying than the very real possibility of tripping or becoming sick in front of all these people.

When I finally make it to my destination—my proverbial mountain top on this imaginary quest—I am harshly flung back into reality as I look out over the crowd.

I can only glance over them before I have to turn my focus to my notecards, clutched between white-knuckled fingers.

Between my racing heart and trembling grip, I can’t even read my own handwriting, and I try to recall the words via memory from the dozen or so times I practiced the speech.

But when I open my mouth, my throat goes dry and the words have utterly vanished. I swallow hard and smile, doing my best to straighten my shoulders and focus on the storefronts across the way, but my lips start to tremble with the force of holding them upright.

“Good evening, everyone.” My voice cracks around the words, and I have to clear my throat before I can go on.

“Welcome to the kick-off of Ashwood Haven’s legendary Halloween festival.

My name is Amelia, I’m the owner of Moonlit Pages, and I am this year’s festival host and sponsor.

I can’t wait to spend the next week with you all carving pumpkins, watching Halloween movies, and judging costume contests.

But first, please turn your attention to Main Street and enjoy our opening night parade.

” Despite it not being the speech I wrote out and rehearsed, cheering ensues, giving me a chance to breathe before the band erupts behind me, and everyone turns away, my presence immediately forgotten.

They play a cover of some upbeat pop song, but the music fades beneath the roaring blood in my ears.

The masses migrate to the sidewalks of Main Street, packing in tight for a chance to witness the first night of Halloween.

Knees shaking, I hurry off the stage in time to hear Stacy radio Luke to start the parade, and I sigh with relief. It had been a fraction of what I planned to say, but at least it’s over. All I have to do now is watch the parade and give the closing speech.

My palms start sweating at the thought, and I try not to think about it.

“See? Easy peasy.” Stacy starts ushering me toward Main Street like a kindergarten teacher herding a frantic child, not bothering to glance at me as she studies the surrounding area for some minute detail.

“We have a prime spot set up for you to watch the parade, and then I’ll come get you when it’s time for the closing speech. ”

Mindlessly, I follow where she leads me until I’m settled in a reserved spot on the street curb.

It’s not until she races away to deal with who-knows-what that I take my first easy breath of the night.

I’m not necessarily alone, surrounded by parade watchers, but no one is paying attention to me and I can exist in my own little bubble for a while.

I sigh through my nose and let my jitters run free, shaking out my shoulders as if that will get rid of the lingering feeling of so many eyes on me.

From down the street, a float covered in glittering strands of orange and purple turns the corner and starts crawling its way down the main artery of town. I can hardly hear anything over the cheering crowd, people clapping as the float rolls closer.

Closing my eyes, I drown out the people as if they are white noise in the background and toe the corner of the curb. Despite my efforts, I end up dwelling on all the words I intended to say and forgot.

Grandma would have done it better. She would have strutted across that stage as if it had been constructed just for her, and, magic or no, she would have charmed everyone into thinking she ran the town single-handedly.

Not only would she have given a better speech, but she wouldn’t have needed notes to do it.

She would have gotten up there and spoken from the heart about town tradition and the long lines of families that have spent more generations than they can document right here in Ashwood Haven. She would have . . .

A familiar deep voice breaks through my inner downward spiral, close enough that his breath brushes against my ear. “You did great.”

Startled, I turn to find Oliver standing behind my shoulder and wonder how he got so close without me noticing.

I definitely would have noticed him if he’d been here when Stacy brought me over.

He’s a head taller than anyone else in the crowd near us; his broad shoulders shrouded in a dark peacoat, blocking the view of several people.

Even if I hadn’t seen him initially, I would have felt him and the way the air buzzes with frantic energy between us.

I scan the faces around us, searching for upset patrons to give an apologetic look to, but I come up short.

People have had these spots claimed all day to get the best view of the parade.

Yet, here he is, standing with the toes of his shoes right on the edge of the sidewalk, and not a single person seems bothered—as if he materialized out of nowhere.

I swallow and automatically start rubbing the hem of my sweater between my fingers, the yarn rolling back and forth, hidden beneath the sleeve of my jacket.

“Thank you,” I choke out, doing my best to sound polite and trying not to stare at those steel blue eyes. “I’m glad to see you got a good spot. The parade is a crowd favorite.”

I turn my attention back to the street, the first float finally crawling by.