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Kat’s arm is warm against my back. I want to curl into the touch, lean against her like—like she’s mine. A coil of want surges inside me, and I blush just thinking about it.

She smiles at me, warm and interested, and gives me a little wink.

I duck my head and try not to giggle, but I can’t help it.

I am not prepared for how close she’s sitting to me, how the rest of the world seems to have fallen away, and it’s just the two of us in this little coffeeshop.

I’m babbling, I know I am, as I ramble on about math, my thoughts on magic, and college plans, and she’s just listening and nodding and looking at me with those deep brown eyes.

I want to fall forever into that knowing gaze.

She looks up at me through her eyelashes, and all the nervous energy I’ve had since the date began starts to bubble over. Is this a date? Or a second date, or a redo—we haven’t talked about this, and oh god, she’s close enough to kiss; does she want me to kiss her? Should I ask her?

I can’t stop looking at her lips.

I wonder if she knows how inexperienced I am, that for all my forwardness and confidence and bluntness in social situations it’s never been romantic. Maybe Jenn is right; I have been pushing people away because I’ve been afraid.

I reach for the check on the table and fiddle in my messenger bag and pull out cash from my wallet. “Do you want to split it?”

Kat peers over my shoulder at the bills I hold out and presses them back in my hand. “Don’t worry about it,” she says. “Coffee and food’s on me. I’d offer for you to leave the tip, but I don’t think your money would work here anyway.”

Kat reaches in her pocket and unfolds a small black wallet. She pulls out a few bright orange bills and tosses them onto the table.

I take one, peering at it closely. It’s intricately detailed with symbols—some of the ones I recognize from Kat’s handwritten note the other day, and in the center is a black-and-white photo of a Chinese woman with her hair swept up in a traditional updo with an elaborate hairpin, wearing a fitted qipao under a Western-styled coat with brass buttons.

“Jìngyi Woo,” I read aloud.

“One of the most powerful mages ever known,” Kat says. “Also my great-great-great-something-aunt.”

I want to know more, but her tone suggests that she doesn’t really want to talk about it. I feel like I’ve already asked a bunch of questions, probably too many. I hope she didn’t find it annoying.

Kat leans closer, like she’s going to hold my hand again, but taps the bills in my hand instead.

“Your money is so weird,” she says. “That’s one dollar, five dollars—what’s that?” She points at the Pokémon cards I’d stuffed hastily in my wallet after I’d cleaned up after Jimmy last week.

“It’s part of a game,” I say, handing her the cards. I don’t think Jimmy will miss them; it’s a few water tokens and a Caterpie.

Kat squints, reading the captions with interest. “Huh.”

“You can have ’em, if you like.”

Kat chuckles and puts them in her pocket. “Thanks,” she says, giving me a winning smile that catches me off guard.

The setting sun casts gentle rays through the windows of the coffeeshop, illuminating the cozy interior with a soft light. It settles on Kat’s face, and her brown skin shines golden and warm, and—

Wait, how late is it?

I pull out my phone to check the time; Jenn and Erica must be worried. I compose a quick text to let them know I’m okay.

Kat peers over my shoulder, her face wrinkling in puzzlement. “So, not a runebook,” she says.

“Uh, it’s my phone—do you not have phones?” The world of Fantasy Target gets more and more interesting. I hand her the phone and she pokes at the screen.

“You mean like a telephone in the history books? They went out of fashion ages ago. But they never looked like this. Doesn’t it run on electricity? It’s not plugged into anything.”

“I—” I have to stop and think about it. “There’s a battery, and a computer—” Do you ever just wonder, wow, I guess I’m going to need to explain how a phone works today? Yeah. I didn’t think so, either. “I can use it to communicate with my friends.”

The phone buzzes. “It’s doing something!” Kat hands it back to me hastily.

MESSAGE NOT SENT

Oh. There’s no signal.

I look around me. At first glance it seems like any other coffeeshop: cozy corners, a glass case filled with pastries, customers ordering drinks.

But the sign that I thought was listing cutesy names for coffee drinks are actually magic add-ons, and everyone is wearing strange clothing.

Outside the window, a horse is pulling a carriage.

A wave of panic that’s been waiting inside me ever since I saw that wyvern now rises full force. How did I even get here? Will I be able to get home? What about Má and everyone and my future , oh god, what if I ended up this realm or whatever and it’s permanent? Am I stuck here?

“Hey, are you okay?” Kat looks at me in concern.

The words and anxiety just spill out of me.

“I just—I don’t know where I am and it looks like LA but it isn’t and there’s magic and you , which is amazing but—what happened to my family and my friends?

Do they exist anymore? How will I get home later?

” I can feel my breath hitch up and my heart start pounding, and no, not here, not now, I can’t—

“Can I give you a hug?”

I nod, biting my lip.

Kat sweeps me into her arms, pulling me close in a soft, comforting hug. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure it out. We’ll talk to my Dad; he can help.”

“I’m not magical, though.”

“I don’t think that’s actually—” Kat shakes her head, her hair falling like waves around her face.

“Well, the fact that you’re from somewhere with no magic is really weird, but I have an idea.

Let’s go back to Target; we can look for some clues.

And then we can call my dad. My godmother Shannon also knows everything about magic, so if Dad doesn’t have any ideas, she’ll for sure know where to start. ”

I take a deep breath. “Okay. That sounds like a plan.” The tension eases out of my shoulders, and I relax into the hug.

And then a new kind of anxiety surfaces—she’s touching me all over, and now I’m aware of her body pressed to mine, how soft she is, and it feels like my skin is too hot for my own body.

Kat pulls back and reaches to pick up her Target bags.

“I can help you with that, here, let me get one!” I blush. Was that too eager?

Kat smiles, handing me one. I hug it to my chest. I feel like I’m about to travel the Oregon Trail, carrying groceries in this thick, heavy canvas. It definitely is way cooler than the plasticky totes all my aunties collect.

She offers me her other hand, and we walk about ten minutes down Main Street hand in hand.

I take a few pictures on my phone of the storefronts and the wild greenery growing everywhere on the meridians, on the sidewalks, bursting out of lawns.

It’s like the opposite of drought here; the heat itself seems alive and waiting.

I haven’t felt anything like this since our family trips to Vietnam, the way the moist air would seem to just wrap around me, thick and tangible.

Most of the storefronts seem the same, from the diner that sells those epic milkshakes to the bookstore, but instead of the phone repair place, there’s a place called MageTech 2 U with a line of harried-looking people.

I take pictures of everything, at first just to remember, and then it turns into pictures of Kat after I explain what I’m doing.

I get shot after shot—Kat looking over her shoulder, long black hair tossed back as she grins, Kat pointing out her favorite Indian restaurant, selfies of Kat and I grinning stupidly at each other.

As we approach the mall, I’m amused that the fountain in front of the main entrance is the same: an abstract-ish sculpture that looks like three swoops of carved rock, spraying water into the air as it cascades back into the fountain in three symmetrical arcs.

Except, today, the arcs are alive . Each piece of the sculpture is moving on its own in a circle, creating patterns with the water as they dance around one another. That in itself is spectacular, and if I saw this at home—well, I might have chalked up the movement to a motor.

And then the arcs start levitating and I lose it.

It was one thing to see the products in Target and to have that terrifying encounter with the wyverns, but to see this beautiful work of art, to see what people can do with magic, is incredible.

Kat grins at me, watching my reaction. She sets down her bags and lets go of my hand, and then draws a shape in the air with two hands, and then another symbol, and then a stream of water floats out from the fountain and forms itself into a shimmering orb, sparkling in the sunlight.

“That’s amazing,” I say, pulling out my phone once more. “Can you do it again?”

Kat grins at me, her smile reaching from ear to ear as she repeats the gesture. A stream floats toward me and swirls itself into a circle around my head as I laugh delightedly.

“Wow, your face,” she says. “It’s a pretty cool party trick, but you look like you’ve just seen—”

“Magic,” I say breathlessly. “Incredible.”

All my life, I’ve always had my plans, my lists. I’ve never done anything without making a list first, and stepping forward into the unknown is so, so scary to me. But with Kat here by my side, I believe her when she says things are going to be all right.

Plus?

Magic is real.

Kat is great about keeping my mind off the next step to getting me home.

Instead, we talk about transportation and tech and fashion—apparently jeans are a constant, and the Austen-y look evolved because magical tailoring could create custom fits, and mass-produced clothing wasn’t really a thing.

While they have electricity, it’s used mainly for lighting and to supplement other magical tech.

“So if you don’t have street trolleys, how do most people get around then?” Kat asks.