Page 17 of Witch You Would

Why did I give Penelope that flower?

We stood at our stations, waiting for the judges to call us to the pentacle-floor demonstration area. An extra camera had

been brought in, and both of the shoulder-mounted camera operators stood by, waiting for instructions. Everything had to be

lit differently since we were all doing lighting spells, so the grip and electric crew had turned off the floodlights and

ran new cables for the smaller spotlights they’d brought in. Isaac Knight squinted at everything like it had personally offended

him, and barked orders at Tori until he finally stomped outside to his special showrunner’s chair area. Chairea? Heh.

Random numbers had been assigned to us for presentation order; Penelope and I were going fourth. She fidgeted with something

in a side pocket of her apron, probably a pencil. The gardenia was still in the front pocket, its white petals peeking out.

Had she forgotten it was there, or left it on purpose?

I had made that particular plan last night, before Isaac dumped his flirting thing on us. Freak-out countdown runarounds were

popular on the show, even if they had to be edited in after the fact. I figured it would be fun to surprise Penelope with

something nice.

After how she reacted to the fire “accident,” I should have yeeted my plan into the sun.

I don’t know what exactly set her off, but her skin had turned as white as the gardenia petals.

She acted like she was in shock—not surprise-birthday-party shock, just-got-in-a-car-accident shock.

Couldn’t talk, dilated pupils, full wreck.

Everything had been going well, and then she turned into a completely different person.

Or herself, but with all the life sucked out.

I had to fix it. I didn’t know how yet, though. And if we lost now, I’d never get the chance.

Charlotte checked her watch. Jaya hid a yawn. Zeke rubbed his head. Tanner had his eyes closed, like he was asleep standing

up, or maybe meditating. Dylan just stood there looking chill, Amy kept blinking behind her glasses, and Quentin had wrapped

his arms around himself in a nervous hug. Felicia had a smug smile. I did not like it.

And Penelope kept fidgeting with whatever was in her pocket. I wanted to grab her hand and hold it so she’d stop. Or maybe

so she’d mess with my fingers instead.

That couple of minutes during the blackout when I’d hugged her... Okay, so I’m a nerd. In my nonexistent spare time, I

read articles about the latest magical advancements, and books with titles like Historical Studies of the Properties of Intangible Spell Components in Caribbean Cultures —which I then reviewed on my Doctor Witch blog.

I like comedies and action movies with badass fights.

I don’t watch romantic stuff on my own, but I’m down to cuddle with a period drama where everyone should fuck already but they never do.

I’d pretty much stopped dating when Leandro Presto got big enough for strangers to start getting parasocially weird—I hadn’t even told Penelope about the Stalker Incident, and I probably never would.

I’ve had girlfriends. I’ve used the L-word and meant it.

I’m twenty-eight years old, not sixteen, and this is not my first crush.

But hugging her was an Experience. It shouldn’t have been! It wasn’t even a real hug, just me trying to keep her from hurting

herself. And then I sniffed her hair like a creeper. I’d spent months refusing to look Penelope up online out of some sense

that I’d be invading her privacy, and the first chance I got, I was all up in her personal space being weird.

Something was wrong with my brain, and I didn’t know whether it was stress from the competition, not getting laid enough,

or months of accumulated feelings from emailing a smart, funny person suddenly leading to... this arroz con mango. Probably

all of it.

Tori yelled, “Quiet!” and the command was repeated by various voices. A camera assistant stepped in front of the camera aimed

at Syd and the judges, snapped the slate, and left.

Syd waited about a ten count, then smiled. “Welcome back to Cast Judgment . It’s now time for our contestants to present their spells. They’ll be judged based on how well they conform to the brief,

how technically challenging their work is, and how creatively impressive and innovative the final product is.”

There was a point system, but we wouldn’t get our scores. That was for the judges and the lawyers making sure this contest

wasn’t rigged.

“Our first contestant and Spellebrity pairing is... Amy and Jaya!”

Together, Amy and Jaya carried their spell to a table placed in the center of the pentacle. It looked like a piano made of

paper, one of the self-playing kinds with a rotating drum covered in musical notes. Beautiful calligraphy sigils covered the

outside, mathematically precise in their distribution. Really cool stuff.

“Tell us about your spell,” Syd said. Jaya gestured for Amy to go ahead.

Amy cleared her throat. “Our novel lighting method is a piano that activates when music is played.”

“Let’s see it,” Syd said.

With a nervous smile at Jaya, Amy touched the middle key and stepped back. The spotlights dimmed so we stood in darkness almost

as deep as when the power went out.

Music filled the room from unseen speakers, a simple classical tune. After a few seconds, the piano started to glow a soft

white, with the light concentrated in the keys. Each note and chord lit up in a pale yellow, then drifted up and floated in

the air, until a wide area was literally bright from the song. When the music ended, the piano stopped glowing, but the notes

remained.

Shit, that was impressive. I recalculated our odds of winning and did not love them.

“Does this complete your spell?” Syd asked.

“Oh yes, sorry!” Amy said. “That’s it. The notes will fade in about ten minutes unless the music starts again. Thank you.”

We all clapped, and the judges stepped forward to examine the piano. They asked a lot of technical questions about the recipe,

the methodologies used to create it, and so on. I hadn’t expected them to be so rigorous—or at least, I had assumed Hugh might,

and Fabienne, but even Doris had some observations that didn’t fit her nice abuela persona.

Eventually they ran out of questions and Hugh said, “We’re ready for recorded comments.”

The two extra camera people took up their positions, and spotlights pointed at the judges so they’d be visible in the dim

room.

Fabienne went first. “This is a lovely spell, Amy and Jaya. The flexibility that allows it to work with any played music is impressive. That said, the piano design itself could be more polished.”

Doris smiled. “I think the entire thing is charming, quite sweet. Very easy to imagine it at a variety of parties, perhaps

with different-colored light options to match the decor.”

All of us held our breaths when it was Hugh’s turn. I didn’t understand why viewers liked his I’m a giant asshole approach. If I did that with students, I’d be fired.

“It’s a decent concept,” Hugh said. “Fairly marketable in theory. I think it’s a bit too dim to be truly functional, and the

base model is flimsy. Paper may hold the enchantment once, but you’d have to take extra steps to make it durable.”

Ouch. Well, could have been worse.

“Thank you, judges,” Jaya said, and Amy repeated the words. They carried their spell back to their station.

Next to me, Penelope leaned forward to give Amy a thumbs-up. Amy smiled back and looked away shyly.

Dylan and Zeke were up next. They brought out a tiered glass platter covered in a couple dozen disco balls, each as big as

a softball. The one on top was larger, maybe soccer ball–size. They put the platter on the table and stepped away, both crossing

their arms over broad chests.

“For our spell, we made individual disco lights for people to carry around,” Dylan explained.

“How do they light up?” Fabienne asked.

“You gotta touch them or pick them up,” Zeke said.

Hugh raised an eyebrow, stepped forward, and grabbed a disco ball. As promised, it started to glow, rainbow-colored lights

shooting out in every direction. Fabienne and Doris each picked up one as well, and they glowed the same way.

“Is that it?” Hugh asked.

“Naw, that ain’t it,” Zeke said. “Take a bite.”

Dylan grinned, a flash of white teeth in the dark.

Maintaining eye contact with Dylan, Hugh bit into the disco ball in his hand. The interior of the ball glowed neon in all

the same colors. Hugh chewed, turning the ball to examine it from different angles. Fabienne and Doris took bites, too.

Hugh finished chewing first. “It’s delicious. Is that lemon?”

“Limoncello and mascarpone,” Dylan said.

“Truly excellent,” Doris said. “The exterior is brittle like candy, but the cake inside is fresh and, dare I say, light?”

She chuckled at her own joke.

Fabienne smiled and took another bite.

They handed their disco balls to a PA, wiped their hands with napkins, and then the round of questions started. Eventually

the judges stepped back for final comments.

“Edible lighting is certainly novel,” Fabienne said. “Making the pieces individual and portable is interesting, and this could

easily be scaled up for a larger crowd. In this case, it’s good they weren’t too bright, or one would be blinded trying to

eat them.”

Doris smiled broadly. “These lights of yours are simply scrumptious. I’d happily serve them at my next party, especially if

they could be ordered in different flavors.”

“They were indisputably delicious,” Hugh said. “However, if they only activate when picked up, that makes their utility as

a lighting fixture somewhat limited. And once you’ve eaten them, the light is gone, and we’re all left in the dark.”

Bro wouldn’t know fun if it bit him in the face.

“Thank you, judges,” Dylan said. Zeke stuck out his chin. They started to carry the tray back to their area.

“Hey, what about us?” I asked.