Page 38 of Everything She Does Is Magic (Fableview #1)
Anya
Mrs.Manalo wraps me in the biggest hug I’ve ever had, tears springing to her eyes.
“Thank you,” she whispers over and over.
I don’t know what story Grace told her—the EpiPen one or the truth.
It doesn’t matter. This town would protect me either way, but no one would take more care with that truth than a Manalo.
I get the distinct impression that every single one of them would personally fistfight my Uncle Edward if he somehow found out and caused trouble over it.
It’s Maddie who interrupts us, tugging on my cloak to get my attention. She’s dressed again as a manananggal, wearing the wings I mended for her. It’s much gorier this time. The fake blood is all over, and there are pool noodles attached to her that have been painted to look like intestines.
“You’re a witch!” she says, pointing to my hat.
“I am,” I tell her.
“I knew it,” she says.
“Come in, come in.” Mrs.Manalo beckons. “Grace is upstairs in her room. She will be so glad to see you both.”
Maddie attempts to follow us up the stairs, but Mrs.Manalo stops her. Maddie starts to cry, and I turn back. “We’ll come down soon, I promise. Then we can hang out,” I say.
When we get to Grace’s room, she’s under the covers, wearing a green silk pajama set and one of those headbands designed to hold your hair back for makeup.
It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her face bare, and she looks so young—she is so young—that it dissolves any last lingering regret I have about breaking my family’s magic. She has so much ahead of her.
“You guys are late,” she says.
“We have a good reason, I promise,” Darcy tells her, handing over our carefully sourced candy bucket.
Grace combs through it like she’s TSA at an airport and this item has been plucked for further examination.
She picks out the full-size Starburst, and I expect her to smile, pleased, but she remains stoic.
“Very good. Thank you.” She sets the candy bucket on her nightstand, then folds her hands together over her comforter. “Well…” she says expectantly.
I shoot a look at Darcy. Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe we need to wait until Grace feels all the way better. But Darcy’s almost laughing. There’s something here that I don’t understand, haven’t all the way worked out.
I decide to press on, ignoring my rising panic. “How are you feeling?” I ask as a warm-up.
It’s also a valid question. She’s been through quite the ordeal.
Grace doesn’t answer for a long while, locking eyes with me the way she used to when she told me she was watching me. When I was “sinister.” I roll backward through the past few hours. Have I wronged Darcy? Was it too much when I told Parker Holt to take care of Grace? What has her so upset?
Finally Grace breaks, pointing to the box in my hand.
“Come on!” she says. “I’m waiting for you to ask me! We can do the how-are-yous afterward!”
“You know?” I say, looking again at Darcy, who now has her hands up in surrender.
“I didn’t tell her! You know I’d never do that.”
It’s true. She wouldn’t.
Helpless, I fumble with the box, all my plans thrown off by this development.
Grace lets out another sigh, one of her throatiest, most theatrical groans, and opens her nightstand.
The two walkies sit side by side. She hands one to me, then keeps the other for herself. “Doyle, this is Manalo. Do you copy?”
“Manalo, this is Doyle. I copy.”
“I figured it out because I’m brilliant. Over,” she says.
When I don’t lift the walkie to my hand, prepared to compliment her in person, she nudges me with her leg under the comforter until I lift the walkie to my mouth. “I see,” I tell her. “I should’ve figured.”
“Yes,” she responds. “Okay, you can put it down now.”
I set the walkie on the edge of her bed, and I hand her the box. She tears it open without ceremony, so fast that I don’t have a chance to tell the story about why I picked it. Not that she needs to hear it anyway. She’s always been ahead of me, so it’s probably right this way.
“A lizard pin!” she says with her usual delight, clapping as she attaches it to her pajamas. “It’s perfect. Great touch.” She winks at Darcy, knowing that bringing a ceremonial gift was heridea.
“Grace,” I say, all my plans out the window. “Will you be my protector?”
She throws the covers off her bed like she’s Charlie’s grandpa in the super super-old version of Willy Wonka& the Chocolate Factory , ready to skip her way to the candy factory. She even strikes a pose, one hand behind her head, her opposite foot popped out.
“Of course I will,” she says. “Who could do it better?”
“No one,” I tell her. And that’s the truth. There is no one who would look out for me the way Grace Manalo would.
When she’s done posing, she gives me a hug.
“Seriously,” she says. “This is a really cool honor. I can’t believe I get to help the real witches of Fableview.
It’s all I’ve ever wanted. Having powers would stress me out, so getting to help other people who have them is exactly the right role for me.
Thank you for seeing that.” She pulls back. “And thank you for being my friend.”
“Thank you for being my friend,” I say, insistent. Those pesky tears of mine spring up again.
“Awww,” Grace and Darcy say in unison, squeezing me from either side.
“Let it out, Doyle,” Grace tells me. “It’s healthy.”
No matter what comes next, I know I have them both to lean on. I owe all this to Darcy for giving me a chance. For believing in me when no one else did. And it’s a little bit like magic, really, how one person can come along and change your whole entirelife.