Page 11 of Witch You Would
Miami traffic meant it took forever to get to the club in South Beach where we were filming. We stopped to pretend to party
towered over half-built concrete high-rises, with shiny new blue glass buildings competing to block each other’s views of
the water. Art deco stores and restaurants and hotels and condos were lit up like the inside of the bus, bright neon pinks
and blues and teals and reds, selling the same kind of fake we were. People in bathing suits and flip-flops passed others
in fancy dresses and ankle-breaking high heels. Half of them wore makeup or glamour—or both, taking the chance that their
dates or potential hookups didn’t have a spell to see through their illusions.
I never came out here if I could help it. There were less crowded beaches for when friends wanted to hang out and party, or
we’d go to someone’s pool and not have to deal with sand and strangers.
The bus stopped and Tori got out first, talked to someone outside, then came back in. “We’re moving you through a small, controlled
crowd into a VIP area. Energy up, big smiles, stay hyped.”
Penelope got up; I pulled on my backpack and stood behind her. When Tori gave the signal, we left the party bus, cheering quietly.
Inside, the ceiling rose two stories, painted black with shiny chrome pipes and ducts crossing it. The left wall was a long,
mirrored bar, bottles on shelves that went all the way up, lit by green and purple neon. To the right, an empty chest-high
stage surrounded by rigging and speakers said this place hosted a lot of shows. No chairs or tables, just an empty dance floor
with about a dozen people standing around.
The second camera crew stayed on us as we passed through the club, their lights shining at our faces, leaving bright spots
everywhere I looked. Rachel waited for us upstairs in an area overlooking the stage inside, with another small bar plus an
open circle of seating around a wooden table.
Still paired up, everyone sat except me. I had a spell to perform.
Tori positioned me with my back to the balcony, the second camera in front and Nate to my left with a view of the table. One
mic and makeup check later, I started setting up my reagents and gear. While she’d avoided me before, now Penelope watched
me like it was her job; everyone else drank mocktails and poked at bar snacks.
Deep breaths. Focus. Be funny.
“Ready Freddy,” I told Tori.
She counted me down and gestured for me to go.
I grinned at the camera. “Welcome to Mage You Look , Cast Judgment edition! We’re here to have a good time before we start the competition tomorrow.”
Quentin cheered, and the others followed a few heartbeats after. I gave him two thumbs up before grabbing the deck of cards
sitting on the table.
“I call this spell ‘The Queen of Hearts, She Made Some Hearts.’” I cut and shuffled the deck in a fancy series of motions with one hand, then two, then I let the cards fly across the air between my hands in a wide arc. Manual dexterity could be as impressive as magic, if it looked cool enough.
“The queen of hearts, she made some tarts, all on a summer’s day.” I cut the deck and turned it around, showing the queen
of hearts card. “The knave of hearts, he stole those tarts, and ran off and ate them and got a massive stomachache.”
A few people chuckled. I revealed the jack of hearts, then shuffled the deck again.
“The king of hearts called for the tarts, and he was super salty when he found out they were gone.” I showed the king of hearts,
then put him back. “The queen hated to see him upset, so she had to make more.” I stopped shuffling and spread the cards out
in front of me on the table. “I need a volunteer for the next part.”
Everyone looked at Penelope. She fake grinned and stood next to me.
“Pick a card, any card,” I said. “But make sure it’s the queen of hearts. We need her for the spell.”
Penelope ran her hand over the cards like she could feel out the right one, then picked one at random. The surprise on her
face was awesome. She turned the card around and showed it to everyone: the queen of hearts.
“Thank you, m’lady,” I said, then flipped over all the cards with one hand, starting from the end. The rest were alternating
versions of the king and jack of hearts.
“Oh!” Amy said, delighted. Quentin clapped, and Zeke made a gesture like, can you believe this guy?
“Now, we could make tarts appear, but that might get messy.” I reached for my premixed reagents and dumped them in a glass mixing bowl. “So instead, our queen is going to make some candy conversation hearts. Here we have gelatin, powdered sugar, and salt.”
Penelope peeked into the bowl, still holding the queen. I handed her a spoon.
“Could you stir while I pour?” I asked. She nodded. I slowly added a bottle of lemon-lime soda to the bowl, trying not to
be distracted by how I could brush her shoulder if I moved. Once it was all blended together, I held up a small tin.
“This is a pre-spelled blend of honey, rosemary, and forget-me-nots, plus the ashes of the recipe for the hearts. Law of contagion
for the win! Penelope, could you hold up that card?”
She did, and I dipped a paintbrush into the gooey mixture, then carefully painted it over the hearts on the playing card.
“And now, the raw materials.” I used the same brush to add some of the lemony gelatin.
“When I say the magic word, the queen is going to make some hearts for her kingly husband, so he knows exactly how much she
loves him.” I looked down at Penelope, who stood so close to me, I thought my own heart was going to pop out of my chest.
She would hate the next part.
“Here, let me have the card, and you can catch the hearts when they come out,” I said. Penelope nodded and held out her cupped
hands. Then she turned her head so only I could see her and mouthed something at me: stop control , I think, which meant she had figured out the flaw in this casting. I pretended not to understand.
Murmuring the incantation I’d written, I focused on filling the card with my energy and intent. Tingles ran up and down my
arms. As soon as I felt the magic link between the card and bowl solidify, I said, “Presto!” and gestured at the card.
The places I’d painted with goop glowed pink. A pair of perfectly shaped conversation hearts fell into Penelope’s palms. Everyone gave a little cheer.
Then another pair fell out. Then another, every couple of seconds at first, then faster and faster until they were pouring
out. Penelope tried to catch them, but they quickly overflowed her hands and clattered onto the table.
“Oh no,” I said. “I forgot to add something to the spell to make it stop and start on command. Here, let me . . .” I handed
the card to Penelope, who dropped all the hearts she was holding as more fountained out. I rummaged in my backpack, pulling
out a rubber chicken, a rabbit plushie, a knotted handkerchief that kept going and going, and finally a bottle labeled “Salt”
that I held up with a loud “Aha!”
I tried to pour some salt into my hand, and it quickly became clear the bottle was empty. I rubbed my neck and grinned at
Penelope.
“Looks like we have to wait for the reagents in the bowl to run out.” I gestured at Penelope. “Next time, I’ll leave the heart-making
to the queen.”
They all laughed, even Penelope, though hers sounded forced. Hearts continued to pour from the card, piling into a small mountain
that collapsed under its own weight, making her wince. With a sound like a bubble of chewing gum popping and the faint smell
of burnt sugar, the rush finally stopped.
Tori clapped. “Great! That’s it for Leandro. Anyone want to dance on the table?”
“I don’t think my husband would approve,” Quentin said dryly. Amy turned bright red, and no one else seemed interested, so Tori pivoted to having the bartender make some impressive-looking spelled shots.
Penelope put a hand on my arm. “Can I talk to you?”
I followed her to the elevator landing, my heart speeding up like a car at a yellow light. Before she started talking, I held
a finger in front of my lips and motioned for her to turn around. She did, and I turned off the mic transmitter clipped to
her pants, then gestured for her to do the same for me.
“Okay, now we’re mostly private,” I said. “What’s up?”
She stared at the elevator door, her face scrunched up like she was thinking unhappy thoughts. Finally she said, “First of
all, I’m sorry about last night. I had a really bad day, but that’s no excuse for being a jerk.”
“It’s okay, it happens. People have said way worse stuff to me online.” Her eyes got big, and I raised my hands. “Not that
you’re like those people! It’s fine, we’re good, don’t worry about it.”
“I just didn’t want... you know, bad first impressions and stuff. We have to work together.”
“We will. I know you were just saying nice things about me in the confessional, but I really do think we’re going to be a
great team.”
Penelope flushed and smiled. “Thanks. But.”
But?
“I get that you’re probably here because you’re cute, and funny, and your whole brand is messing up.”
I thought so, too, but it hurt to hear from her. Wait, did she say “cute”?
“I don’t know what you get out of this besides more likes and subscribes, but winning is really important to me.”
What would Leandro say? “No worries. We’re gonna be legendary. We should start planning our victory dance now.” I did a quick salsa step and spin, landing with a cocky smile.
Penelope blinked. “Okay, that was surprisingly good.”
“I’ve got some moves. I’m not going to do them on the table, though.”
She paused like she was about to say something else, then sighed. “Look. I’ll be honest. I got fired this morning.”
“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” I stepped closer, almost touched her without thinking, but caught myself.
She shrugged, her eyes watery. “I’m not trying to get pity likes. If anyone else were my partner, I probably wouldn’t have
said anything.”
Double ouch. “Because you would know they’re taking this seriously.”