Page 22 of Witch You Would

No yellow, so Bruno had tied yellow ribbons around my buns that brushed my neck every time I turned my head.

Maybe I shouldn’t be flirty. I already looked unprofessional. Who would hire me if this was what they expected? Meatball hair

and silly aprons and fooling around with coworkers.

Still, I’d put that queen of hearts card in my apron pocket for luck. After what had happened in the first round, we would

need it.

Syd raised their arms. “Welcome, everyone, to round two of Cast Judgment ! We’re down to four pairs of casters and Spellebrities, and with every elimination, the difficulty of the brief will increase.”

Right, because coming up with a whole new lighting spell hadn’t been hard.

“You will also be judged more harshly as the rounds progress, so make sure your next effort is twice as dazzling as the last.”

So round three would need to be eight times as awesome as the first round? Also, how could Hugh Burbank get harsher? By replacing his blood with acid?

“Remember, every spell you design and cast must be celebration-themed.”

Whee. My hormones were certainly celebrating.

“Without further ado, the brief!” Syd then, of course, paused dramatically and looked around at all of us. “What would a party

be without extravagant ornamentations? We want you to create a spectacular party decoration or centerpiece that goes through

at least two complete transformations. As always, no illusions allowed.”

Two transformations? One was hard enough, depending on what enchantments we used...

Syd gestured at the LED clock on the wall. This time—no pun intended—it lit up with a giant number sixteen and a bunch of

zeroes. “Your time begins... now!”

Fifteen fifty-nine and counting down. Even knowing it would be split into two days, it seemed like too much and too little.

I pulled out my notebook and a pencil and leaned against the counter. Leandro joined me, mimicking my pose.

Focus, Penelope.

“Decoration or centerpiece,” I muttered, writing, “Two transformations.”

“Maybe we start with a theme and back into the theory?” Leandro suggested.

“Makes sense.”

We stood there, thinking. His shoulder touched mine. I froze. He shifted a little and we weren’t touching anymore. I exhaled.

We were supposed to level up the flirty. Should I lean on him more? Smile? Flutter my eyelashes?

Okay, this was ridiculous. I was going to be normal and stop thinking about it, or I’d never get anything done.

Hah. Me, stop thinking.

“Werewolf?” Leandro said finally.

“Man turning into a wolf? Hmm.” I wrote it down, though it didn’t sound party-ish. “Maybe something from a story? Lots of

transformations in folktales.”

“Or magical girl animes?”

I groaned and nudged him with my hip. “Don’t start with the body pillows.”

Leandro laughed. I tapped the pencil on the paper. Tap, tap.

“Are flowers and butterflies too obvious?” he asked.

Was he teasing me? Reminding me of yesterday? I gave him a quick side-eye. His mouth was too close. I blushed and looked down

at the paper again.

“Those definitely transform,” I said. “But they’re pretty basic. We’d have to make it really cool.”

“Like that sculpture.”

“Yes! But we can’t copy it. We can totally say it inspired us, though.”

We started sketching out more ideas: what to make the original piece look like, how the first transformation should work,

then the second.

“So many people are late to parties,” I said. “We should make it repeating.”

“Maybe make the catalyst something that can be re-added?” Leandro suggested.

“Right, like a seed bomb.” I wrote down a list of possible tropical flower options based on what we’d seen at the gardens. Some would be tricky, since they were usually propagated with cuttings or offshoots instead of seeds. Maybe a wrapped leaf ball, like a blooming tea?

Leandro stepped away to get our tools ready. I kept sneaking looks at him. Partly I wanted to know what he was doing, but

also I kept thinking about yesterday. His eyes. His chest. His mouth. Even with that silly mustache, his mouth was a total

fantasy. And I was pretty sure a certain part of him I had sat on was not a pocket banana.

Truly, I had lost my brain. Possibly the butterflies had taken it.

Why couldn’t we have kept our damn hands to ourselves? Ah! I didn’t need this. I needed to finish this recipe.

Forty-five minutes slipped away. I had ingredients and most of the methods, at least. I just wanted to run a few things by

Leandro before finalizing.

And of course he had snuck off, to do a scarf summoning trick for Amy and Jaya, who seemed to find it adorable. I wanted to

be mad, but after what he’d said about working with kids, I knew he enjoyed this. Recording a video to release into the wilds

of the internet was one thing; seeing the happy faces of the people you were doing magic for was another.

That was—had been—one of the few things I liked about working at Espinosa’s. When someone came to me with a question or a

spell problem and I was able to answer it or fix it for them, and it made them happy, that made me happy, too.

Maybe I would volunteer to teach kids magic when this was all over. I could use a little joy in my life, even if it didn’t

pay.

Leandro came back, grinning. “Did you figure everything out already? Or did you leave something for me to do?”

I booped his nose with the pencil’s eraser. “Slacker. What do you think about these sigils?”

“Hmm.” He stole the pencil and started making his own notes. “We want to link the repetition to the cutting ball, right? Which

means at least partially dispelling the original manifestation so it doesn’t double or cause a corruption.”

“Right,” I said, “that’s why I added the Klein symbol here.” I tapped the squash-shaped figure.

“A coiled ouroboros might be best, though?”

We debated a little longer, settled on a final circle diagram, and off I went to the supply room. I wasn’t sure they’d have

all the fresh flowers we wanted, and I wasn’t wrong, but they had a lot. Then there were the herbs, and the other reagents...

Amy passed me, looking lost again. We had a quick chat about where to find bone ash—aisle two—and whether wing feathers or

down would work better for manifesting a bird when considering the law of synecdoche—wing feathers for sure, in my opinion.

Felicia stomped past, grabbing a bunch of herb jars from the shelf and leaving. By the time I realized she’d taken all the

tarragon, which I needed, it was too late.

When I got back, the wall clock said an hour and a half had passed.

No screaming. Nope. I would be calm and cool and—what was Leandro doing at our station with that chalk?

I did not run, because I was pushing a shopping cart. But I definitely power walked, hoping my face didn’t look as worried

as I felt. Sound guy Liam was probably wondering why my heart was dancing salsa and I was panting like a dog.

Calm. Cool. “How’s it going?” I asked.

Leandro looked up at me from the floor and spun the chalk in his hand. “Almost finished with the inner ring sigils. Want to check my spellwork?”

How dare he be adorable, and also, his sigils were perfect, and so were his circles and lines. My heart settled into a cumbia.

Trust him. I had to trust him. I should trust him.

“Good,” I said. “All good. Help me with the groceries?”

He stood and bowed. “As you wish, m’lady.”

We pulled everything out of the cart and arranged it neatly on the counters and tables. Again, as I always did, I checked

each container’s expiration date, then opened them one by one to sniff and scan. Rosemary, check. Spearmint, check. Twice-blooming

cereus, check.

“You really do that every single time, huh?” Leandro asked. “Even here?”

“Even here,” I said. “You never know. You’d be surprised what can slip through quality control.”

“Sounds like a story.”

“More than one, unfortunately.” I’d learned some lessons the hard way, even when I’d tried not to.

After everything was set up, we were still missing the tarragon. I headed for Felicia and Charlotte’s station. Okay, Penelope,

opportunity to network. Be professional. Friendly smile.

“Hi!” I said.

“Are you lost?” Felicia replied.

Charlotte made a scoffing sound as she carefully positioned a mirror and prism array. Was she irritated? Or laughing?

“I just need some tarragon, please. You took all of it.”

“Use something else. We need it.”

I kept smiling, even if my jaw was clenched. “I guess we’ll figure something out. Thankfully we know enough magic theory to do that, unlike you, apparently.”

I decided that was a good exit line and went back to our station. Take that, esprit d’escalier. When I glanced back at Charlotte,

she was looking at me with a closemouthed smile.

Hah! Maybe I had impressed her.

“No tarragon?” Leandro asked.

“Nope. We can use something else.”

“Anise seed?”

“Or fennel...” We wouldn’t need it until later, anyway.

Leandro finished the outer circle while I mixed the first set of ingredients, and we dove into casting. Minutes walked; hours

ran. We ate lunch while we worked, careful not to spill anything. The judges circled us like sharks waiting for blood to hit

the water, but this time when they came to ask us questions, I felt more ready.

At some point around hour six, Felicia came over. “Here’s your tarragon,” she said, holding out a jar like it was a dead animal.

“Thank you so much,” I said sweetly.

“Whatever.” She left without looking back.

Leandro watched her hip-swaying, high-heeled walk, and something ugly dug around in my chest. I had no right to feel even

slightly jealous. She was pretty, and he could look.

“Do you think her farts are super high-pitched because of the huge stick in her ass?” he asked.

I snort-laughed so hard I had to cover my mouth. The thing in my chest disappeared.

“She has to take it out to poop,” I said.

“Does she hold it the whole time, or does she rest it on her lap?”

“That’s disgusting. And we probably shouldn’t shit-talk the other contestants.”

“Shit-talk?” Leandro waggled his eyebrows.

“Pun not intended!”

I opened the tarragon to check it, imagining Felicia waving around a poop-covered stick. Hold on. I wafted the scent of the

jar toward me again, then checked the label. Tarragon. Except it wasn’t. I shook some of the herb onto the counter, then tasted

it to be sure.

“This is thyme,” I said.

Leandro tried a pinch, too, then grabbed my wrist and turned the jar so he could read the label. He was touching me. My brain

crashed and rebooted.

“Wrong ingredients can cause huge problems in a spell,” I said.

“Someone could get hurt,” he agreed.

I glared at Felicia, who was either ignoring me on purpose or had no idea what she’d done. Only one way to find out. I took

the jar back to her station and held it up.

“What’s this?” I demanded.

Felicia looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “I know you’re dense, but I assumed you could read labels.”

“This isn’t tarragon,” I said. “It’s thyme.”

Felicia wasn’t dense; she understood what I was implying. She grabbed the jar and checked it, her blue eyes narrowing. But

instead of fighting with me, she started going through all her other jars of tarragon. Charlotte joined her a second later.

“Who’s in charge of the supply room?” I asked Leandro, who stood quietly next to me.

“I’m not sure.” Leandro smoothed his mustache. “Maybe we should grab Syd? Or Tori?”

“Tori, yes.” She was important. She’d want to know, either that Felicia was screwing around or . . . Except I didn’t see her. I did see Big Manny, looking grumpy. I walked over to him, waving the jar.

“Yes?” Big Manny asked, watching the jar move.

“This has the wrong ingredient in it,” I said.

He blinked. “Are you sure?”

The memory of Ofelia asking me whether I’d messed up the reagents for sparkle-hair guy flashed through my brain. My customer

service smile appeared on my face like dark magic, hiding the irritation buzzing in my chest.

“She’s sure,” Leandro said firmly. “Get Tori.”

My irritation fizzled. He’d backed me up. No hesitation. No jokes. He looked angry, actually, which was new.

He trusted me. It shouldn’t have felt so good, but it did.

Big Manny walked toward the door, muttering something into his collar mic. He ran into Tori coming in, and they whispered

back and forth. Big Manny pointed at me, and Tori’s face went all flat again. She gestured us over.

I handed her the container. The other contestants and celebrities were watching us now, and Felicia grimly brought over a

jar of sage that apparently wasn’t. I tried to stay calm, but inside I was still freaking out. What if Quentin had used a

wrong reagent that broke his spell? What if Felicia hadn’t done anything after all? Or maybe she had messed with her own stuff

to cover her sabotage?

Sabotage. No way. It couldn’t be. Could it?

“Shut it down,” Tori said into her collar mic. “We have a problem.”