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This time the portal is barely half a second, so there’s a slight chance Brenda might miss it, but with no way to communicate between our worlds I can only wait and hope.

I tap my fingers on the counter. I’m nervous about dinner tonight; Dad was way too excited that I was bringing Brenda home, and he already left the shop to make dinner.

I watch the clock anxiously. Five. Four. Three. Two.

Brenda walks through the door, a relieved smile stretching across her face when she sees me.

I rush up to meet her, and she pulls me forward into a hug and presses her face into my neck.

“Hey,” I say softly, kissing her cheek. “I’m glad you’re here. Everything okay?”

“A lot has happened in the past few days,” Brenda says.

“You too, huh.” I smile as Brenda settles into my arms; she smells like the crisp scent of shampoo and pencil shavings.

“I’m scared,” she whispers. “What if using the portals to see each other is making everything worse?”

“The portals would be here whether we’re using them or not,” I say, stroking her hair. “Every few years it gets a bit intense because of where Los Angeles happens to be with both the intersection of ley lines and the San Andreas Fault. It’s normal.”

“I don’t think it is.” Brenda shakes her head. “The Order—they have factories in my world. Fields Forward, the tech company that I applied for a scholarship with? They’re from here .”

I take Brenda’s hand and guide her toward the counter so I can get her a coffee with Calm as she tells me about pixies and wyverns appearing in her world.

“So all these random scientists are on the news trying to explain what’s going on, with like cryptozoology or that we’re just seeing new species or something, and people are getting hurt…”

“Take a deep breath. Here.” I hand her a steaming cup.

“Thanks.” Brenda inhales deeply, then sips the brew, her face relaxing as she pauses. “I realized something important, too; you know how you said your mom figured something out? And that she died suspiciously, not like how everyone else who participated in the Ritual?”

“It’s the only explanation why they haven’t released her body,” I say. “Because it would be evidence—” I hadn’t wanted to think about it. But if something went wrong—if someone interfered, to make sure Mom didn’t do what she planned—

It would be murder.

My runebook chimes in my pocket.

Dinner’s ready! I wasn’t sure what she liked, so I made roast duck and fresh buns, and if she doesn’t eat meat, there’s braised tofu and bok choy and…

I feel embarrassed but pleased, and I close the message. “My dad is super excited you’re here,” I say. “I want to hear about everything, but we have to go, otherwise he’s going to cook like five more courses.” I gesture for her to follow me to the back.

“Okay,” Brenda says, a new touch of nervousness springing into her voice.

She watches in fascination as I press my hand to the door. “Anchored portal,” I explain, opening it to show my living room.

Brenda follows me through and shuts the door behind her, and then opens it again to reveal an overstuffed coat closet. “That’s too cool,” she says. “Is it anything like how we travel between our worlds? Could we set up one between your house and mine?”

“That would be amazing if we could,” I agree. “Okay, so dinner with my dad, and then there’s a new exhibit at the Chinese American Museum—do you want to do that? Or the street fair in the Arts District. There’s two portals you could take home late tonight in downtown, depending how late we’re out.”

“That sounds great,” Brenda says. “I love CAM! I used to volunteer there all the time, but I hardly ever get to go just as a guest. Can we do that?”

I nod. It’ll be nice to spend time with Brenda before I try Mom’s time travel spell. I’m nervous about what I’ll see, but I need answers.

“Hello!” Dad’s cheerful voice booms from the kitchen. “Welcome!”

“I apologize in advance,” I warn Brenda in a whisper. “He’s… a lot.”

Brenda chuckles as Dad bounds into the living room, the warm soft light from the late afternoon sun bouncing off his bald head. He’s covered in flour, as usual, and his apron is splotchy with stains, but he looks much happier than he has in weeks.

“You must be Brenda,” Dad says warmly. “I’m Sam Woo, Kat’s dad. No relation to the barbecue mogul, but I say my roast duck could give him a run for his money any day!”

Brenda laughs openly at the joke. “Well, if you ever need a judge, I’m happy to eat,” she says.

“Come, we’re in the kitchen, no formalities here,” he says, leading us past the dining table, where we had dinner yesterday with Shannon and Christopher, and into the kitchen.

It’s interesting—we almost always eat there when we have guests. I wonder if Dad thought it would be more cozy, or if he already thinks of Brenda as family.

All the kitchen windows are open, bright light filtering past herbs and happy green vines overflowing their planters, leaves flickering with appreciation for the light. I’d forgotten we even had windows in here.

On the bar is a veritable feast—roast duck, fresh steamed buns, basil eggplant, sautéed bok choy. A ceramic pot is bubbling away on the woodburning stove.

“Go ahead, sit down, help yourself, I’m just finishing up here,” Dad says, gesturing to the food.

I pull out a stool for Brenda and grab bowls and chopsticks for everyone.

“Everything smells amazing, Mr. Woo,” Brenda says appreciatively.

“Sam! None of this Mr. Woo nonsense,” Dad insists as he chops ginger and garlic to a fine mince, its fragrant, sharp scent cutting through the air.

He draws a rune in the air, and a wok appears out of nowhere and lands on the grate.

Brenda watches with interest. “Kat tells me you design all the custom brews for your coffeeshop, constantly coming up with new ways to make people feel better.”

“It’s my life’s work!” Dad beams at Brenda and laughs as he picks up the chopped ginger and garlic with his knife and deftly tosses it into the wok. He grabs a bunch of spring onions growing on the windowsill, chopping them into fine curls as he explains about his newest set of Pick-Me-Ups.

I can tell he’s having fun, and every so often he will look at me and smile when I jump in and tease him about his process.

Brenda gestures with interest at the wood-burning stove. “So what are you brewing there?”

“Oh, just the rest of dinner!” Dad says with a mischievous grin, lifting the lid of the pot to reveal the braised tofu.

Brenda pinks with embarrassment. “Oh, I thought it was magic. Not that food isn’t magical, um—”

He laughs. “You’re right, food is magical. A meal cooked with love can do wonders beyond any spell.” He takes a seat on the stool next to me and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I’m so happy to meet you; Kat’s never brought a date home before.”

My cheeks burn hot, and I busy myself serving everyone rice and pouring tea.

Brenda asks Dad more about potions and Pick-Me-Ups, which he’s too happy to indulge, explaining his passion. He scoops generous portions onto our plates, pleased when we devour succulent slices of roast duck in fresh buns with scallions and finish all the tofu.

I watch Dad with Brenda, and suddenly a pang of longing hits me so hard I can’t taste my food anymore.

Mom should be here. She should be right here teasing me along with Dad. She’d love Brenda’s sense of humor and admire her ideals and focus to make the world a better place.

“What other classes are you taking?” Dad asks.

“AP US History, and uh…” Brenda trails off, looking at me.

I blink. This could be a good time to tell Dad about Brenda and the two worlds; maybe he’d have ideas.

“Hah! A smart girl,” Dad says in approval. “Kat never took any APs, I know she’s not getting challenged enough in any of her courses.”

“Right. Not challenged enough.” I roll my eyes, the old bitterness returning. “Of course that’s why I’m getting Cs in almost everything.”

“I know you’re a smart girl, you just don’t apply yourself. But I’m happy to see you finish out the year in Advanced Spelling.”

“Thanks?” I say, raising my eyebrows.

“Kat works really hard,” Brenda says, jumping in. “She created this whole spell matrix for duplicating watermelon—”

“Pineapple,” I correct. “But you don’t have to—”

“No, it’s really cool, you said you anchored the spell to the sugar in the coffeeshop—”

Dad snorts, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “Oh, so that’s why I ruined three batches of pineapple buns before I discovered the sugar was basically useless.”

I realize that he’s not actually mad and let myself chuckle back at him. “Yeah, but if I hadn’t done that, you wouldn’t have gotten to use all those simple syrups you had stored. Remember you were complaining about having too many and how they were taking up space in the icebox?”

Dad squeezes my shoulder affectionately. “Well, in any case, I’m glad to see you putting that ingenuity toward actual schoolwork.”

Brenda smiles; I wonder if the conversation would have gone this way if she hadn’t been there, and I’m happy she is. It feels nice, to be supported like this. This is what it’s like, to have a relationship. To have a partner.

I sit up in my seat. My whole plan to investigate Mom’s research—I don’t have to do it alone. Brenda has been here the whole time, and she’s invested in what it means for our two worlds, how the mana surges affect us. She’s invested in me .

Brenda had figured out something earlier about the Ritual based on what she saw at that factory.

I can ask her to come.

Brenda takes her dishes to the sink and starts to wash, waving off Dad’s insistence for her to leave them. She looks good here, like she belongs in my home.

I love it.

I love…

I catch that train of thought before it settles into somewhere I’m not ready to think about.

Dad settles down in his chair and waggles his eyebrows at me. “You girls going out after dinner?”

“There’s a new exhibit at the Chinese American Museum,” I say.