Page 7 of Everything She Does Is Magic (Fableview #1)

Anya

I don’t take other people’s feelings into consideration.

That’s what my so-called best friend Julia once told me.

It was the kind of gut punch cruelty that part of me knew she said just to hurt my feelings.

But another part of me felt the hard kernel of truth within it, the kind that gets caught in your mind the way popcorn gets stuck in teeth.

Instead of finding some way to remove it, I’ve grown around it, absorbing this belief as a part of my personality.

I don’t think about other people enough.

I am not sensitive to what they need from me.

If anyone is ever going to like me, I have to change this about myself.

So if I hope for Darcy Keller to enjoy my presence enough to let me learn the ways of being mortal through being around her, I need to figure out what she wants from me. Which is to attend this committee meeting.

Slipping into the back row of the only conference room at Fableview’s city hall, I scan the crowd.

There are a few people dressed up even for this—an old man with a long beard, wearing a wizard robe.

Or maybe he is a wizard. Tough to say in a town like this.

Not that Darcy would think twice about it. She’d assume he was performing.

There are two middle-aged women dressed as matching bumblebees. Another woman done up as a medieval wench.

For a moment, I panic, wondering if the sensitive thing to do would’ve been to dress up too. But I don’t own anything other than black clothes. I could’ve gotten some cat ears, I guess. Darcy would have probably seen that as an insulting lack of effort.

When she steps up to the podium, I’m relieved to see she’s in the same outfit she had on at school—a short blue dress with daisies on it.

She has two small clips on either side of her head, leaving her bangs to frame her face while pulling the longer pieces out of the way so her blond ringlets can do their waterfall cascade thing down her back.

She takes the time to look at each member of the committee and smile. When she gets to me, I can’t help but look away, sure that my crush is tattooed on my face. I stare down at my phone, pretending my lock screen shows me something far more interesting than Darcy Keller.

“I know you were expecting my parents, but they’re busy with preparations for this weekend, so they’ve asked me to run today’s meeting. Please forgive me if I get anything wrong,” shesays.

She looks happy up there. But she’s always been good in front of a crowd. It would be rarer to see her look upset. Is this the first task of her future role? A warm-up commitment from her parents to prepare her for taking over?

“Before we get started, we have a new committee member in the audience. I know she won’t want too much fanfare, so let’s just say a very quick welcome to Anya.” Darcy gestures to me, and everyone begins applauding.

This committee is made up of people of all ages.

There are a handful of our classmates, including Grace Manalo, who gives me the same glare she gave me at the art shop.

She even puts two fingers to her eyes and then points them at mine, mouthing, I’m watching you.

That doesn’t bother me much. It’s gotten easy to tolerate people disliking me.

But being welcoming? I don’t know what to do with that. I try my best to fix my face into something less scowl-like for the applauding crowd.

“Okay. That’s enough,” Darcy says. “I don’t want to overwhelm her. Thank you for being here, Anya.”

My throat’s too dry to respond. My hand won’t lift to wave either. She has somehow managed to find the exact amount of attention I can handle without shriveling into dust, and still, I can’t move.

“All right. On to the first order of business,” she continues. “The costume parade barriers.”

This gets varied reactions from the committee. Some whoops and, to my surprise, even a groan.

“I know, I know,” Darcy says. “My parents and I just want to be extra sure that no one needs new barriers for the sidewalks. We don’t want to have a repeat of what happened last year.”

It’s the wizard gentleman who is displeased. He lets out another sound—a throaty scoff this time—as he says, “I didn’t realize my ropes were broken until that morning.”

Darcy gives him a smile so inviting in return that it’s almost sinister how good she is at letting his obvious rudeness bounce right off her. “Exactly. Which is why we’re asking that everyone go home and check their supplies tonight.”

He scoffs again, mumbling, “Ridiculous,” and tossing his hands up.

I’m still stuck on twenty seconds ago when I didn’t acknowledge Darcy’s welcoming. My hand shoots up before my mind can third-guess the action.

“Oh,” Darcy says, eyebrows lifted in what is hopefully delighted shock. “Anya, yes.”

“I was wondering…what the costume parade is, exactly,”Isay.

“Sorry for not explaining.”

I sink into my seat, fighting off the blush that wants to rise to my cheeks. “I’m sure it’s exactly what it sounds like. I just…wanted to know more.”

She nods in encouragement. “Of course. I’m happy to do that.

We shut down Fableview Boulevard and some of the surrounding side streets, and we hold a parade.

Little kids walk down the street in costumes.

Business owners hand out candy as the kids pass.

People bring their families in from out of town to participate. It’s very sweet.”

“Do the businesses offer anything other than candy for the attendees?” I ask.

The people who clapped for my presence have now turned their torsos a full 180 degrees to see me.

I’m not inexperienced in the art of derision.

Most people find me off-putting. But it’s rare even for me to have gained and lost the favor of an entire room in a matter of only a few minutes.

Grace’s taunting seems tame in comparison to the open annoyance now being hurled my way.

“You’re all already dressed in costumes, right?” I continue, finding myself wanting their approval. Or to prove my role here. Darcy has gone out of her way to make me feel welcome. I can’t be the one everyone hates. Not already.

“You know, we could have personalized shop tie-ins,” Darcy says. “Each of us could offer something unique! Discounts for people who return in our offseason.”

“Maybe even your own kind of parade inside the shops,” I suggest. “Like, everyone has to stop inside, and somehow it could build so each shop could give you a reason to go to the next one for something?”

We volley back and forth a little longer. It’s surprisingly easy to talk to Darcy, even in front of a crowd. She seems eager to hear me out. Excited by what I’m saying. What we come up with sounds fun, even to me, a person who has never once voluntarily attended a parade .

With his most theatrical, grunting noise of displeasure yet, the same older wizard from earlier interrupts us to ask, “Why would we need to change what we already know works perfectly?”

He doesn’t even sound judgmental. He’s calm, rational. Why would this town branch out when they’ve had success doing things the way they always have?

I think of my family’s coven. How we’ve functioned the same way for generations, asking our witches to bring mortal friends to our initiations to pledge loyalty to our coven, with no consideration of whether that’s even necessary anymore.

Our ancestor was almost killed for her magic hundreds of years ago.

Times have changed. Not to mention the fact that we get initiated on our eighteenth birthday, and we have to pick people who will protect our coven for the rest of our lives .

Every town I’ve ever lived in, the adults make mention of how the things I do as a teen may not reflect who I will one day become.

They say it about my clothes, telling me that maybe one day, I’ll like wearing something other than black.

They say it about the music I listen to, promising me I won’t want to play only sad stuff.

It will get depressing once I’m an adult, and I’ll want a break from that feeling.

They say it about my personality, telling me I’ll grow out of being sullen.

To them, everything about me is a supposed phase.

And that’s always been annoying, because I know myself.

I know what I like and what I want, and it doesn’t make me any better or worse than them just because I haven’t been alive as long as they have.

It’s ironic that choosing a protector is the only thing they trust me to make a good decision about, and it’s this huge, life-altering choice.

I’m supposedly this hormonal, ever-changing creature of the night as a teenager, but also, I need to pick a friend who can look out for me until my dying breath?

“What if something else works better?” I challenge, forgetting for a second that this wizard is a stranger, not a member of my family’s coven. I should keep my mouth shut. But I can’t help but wonder—why can’t we want things to be better than they are? Why can’t we try something different?

“I don’t think any of us are in the mood to experiment,” the wizard tells me.

Darcy takes a quick breath to regroup. She tosses back her long blond hair as she moves to the next item on her agenda. She’s so good at letting things roll off her back.

I don’t think a single thing has ever rolled off mine.

The rest of the meeting, I remain quiet. I’m just an outsider, after all. Always an outsider. The most considerate thing I can do in this situation is to shut up.

When Darcy dismisses us, I attempt to slink out, hurrying down the hallway to beat the rush. I make it all the way through the exit and onto the street when Darcy calls my name.

One word, and my arms tingle, goose bumps prickling across my flesh.

She jogs to meet me as several other committee members file past us. She waves goodbyes, making promises to talk to them soon about other matters brought up during the meeting. But she doesn’t move. She has one foot planted forward, almost stepping between my legs.

“Thanks for coming today,” she says once the rest of the committee is gone.

“Of course,” I tell her. There are a dozen conversation starters I wish I had, but none come to mind, so I leave it at that, hoping my sincerity has broken through the constant rain cloud that is my general disposition.

She places a hand on my shoulder. My goose bumps get electrified by the contact, pinpricks of excitement threatening to make me do something reckless, like smile. “We can still change things, you know.”

“I think the wizard guy would place a curse on us if we do,” I say.

She laughs. “He might. Which is why we won’t tell anyone we’re doing it.” The way she’s grinning is a death blow to my rain cloud.

How could I do anything but smile in return?

She hands me a piece of paper with several dates and activities listed. “This is the full schedule for the month of October,” she says.

There are so many events on it that I’m exhausted just reading it—a costume parade, a pumpkin patch party, an apple bobbing contest, a haunted carnival. Something called the Fall Ball happening the night before Halloween, described as a town-wide dance that requires formalwear.

“I know,” Darcy says, reading along with me. “It’s a lot. But that means we have plenty of chances to try stuff out. No one here will ever let us do anything new if we ask. We have to show them that it can work first. If you’re still in, that is.”

There’s a flicker of optimism in her eyes, the tiniest bit of trust that I can’t believe I’ve earned. If I really tried, I could easily come up with a convincing reason to turn her down.

But I don’t want to try. I want to be the kind of person Darcy Keller believes in.

“I’m in,” I say.