Page 40 of Witch You Would

Fire burned under my skin, smoke filled my mouth, and I had to breathe through it all to say, “You could pressure-cook it.”

Zeke clapped and pointed at me. “You really are a smartie, you know that? Pressure-cook it. I’ll be damned. Haven’t had to

do a rush job in years.”

“It’s dangerous,” I said.

But he was already off, doing the math and sending Dylan to grab the right pot from the storeroom.

Gil grinned at me when I got back. “I let you go for an extra two minutes. Did you fix it?”

“Maybe.” Pressure-cooking wasn’t guaranteed to work, but it was their best chance. Just like it had been ours. I’d messed

things up for us before, but if this might save Dylan and Zeke’s spell, make it a fair contest...

I glanced at Felicia, who shook her head at me. Of course she didn’t care about fairness. She just wanted to win.

The timer counted down as I knotted one bracelet after another. My hands cramped; Gil massaged them. My neck hurt from bending

over the counter for so long; Gil rubbed that, too.

“If your show doesn’t work out,” I told him, “you could get a job doing those five-minute massages at the mall.”

“You think the tips are good?”

“For you, probably.”

God, what was I going to do for a job when this was over? At least I was getting paid to be here. That would buy me a little time . . . except I’d need more money for a deposit on an apartment, unless I could find a roommate . . .

“Worried?” Gil asked.

“Not about this,” I said. “Come on, three more to go.”

We finished with ten minutes to spare. The pinatas sat on the cutest plates I could find, in bright colors that mostly matched.

We all took a break for dinner, only the judges and crew missing from the room. Even Syd stayed to eat and joke with us, telling

stories of silly things that had happened in previous seasons of Cast Judgment .

Tori stealthed in at some point with Liam, who checked all our mic transmitters and mics. The rest of the crew wandered back

and took up their positions, and before the caffeine from my last soda hit my brain, it was judgment time.

Felicia and Charlotte went first. Apparently what I’d assumed were herbs or potpourri was actually specially blended tisanes,

lemon and lavender with a color-changing enchantment. Sticking out of the top of each bag was a stirring rod, which could

heat or cool the tea depending on which direction you stirred. The temperature changed the tea color. Genius.

Or so I thought. I guess I wasn’t fancy enough to know you could already buy this sort of thing in stores—Athame Arts stores

in particular—and Hugh Burbank especially wasn’t impressed by the enchantments being single-use. Charlotte took the critique

well enough, but she and Felicia lost their polite smiles between the presentation pentacle and their station.

Dylan and Zeke were next. I held my breath, wondering how their rushed spell had turned out.

The edible radios still hissed and buzzed, but they also played a few notes of what sounded like a tune from an old video game.

They joked that it was intentional; the judges were not fooled, since they’d been told what to expect earlier.

Still, major points for the delicious rum cake with mango and pineapple inside, and for how uniform they all were.

Finally it was our turn.

“Our spell is called ‘Clap and Explode’!” Gil said, with absolutely no chill.

“We made miniature self-destructing pinatas with a surprise inside,” I said.

“They don’t actually explode, do they?” Hugh asked.

“No, no,” I said. “You toss them up in the air and clap, and they’ll pop open. If someone can’t clap, they can just tear the

leaf part off.”

“And they’re shaped like pineapples because?” Fabienne asked.

Gil grinned. “I like pineapples.”

They each grabbed one and looked at each other, as if silently deciding who would try it first. Hugh shrugged and threw his

above his head, quickly clapping before it started to fall.

The little papier-maché pineapple burst like it had been hit with a stick, and the bracelet inside clattered to the ground.

I cringed, hoping the metal beads hadn’t bent and messed up the enchantment.

“This is what?” Hugh asked, picking it up.

“A charmed bracelet.” I explained how it worked, trying not to feel like Hugh’s green eyes were lasers putting holes in my

head.

Fabienne and Doris both popped their pinatas and got their bracelets. By apparent mutual agreement, they all triggered the

spell simultaneously, saying, “Presto!” in unison.

Every single bracelet worked perfectly. Five bursts of fake fireworks faded into showers of glitter. Fabienne even did it

again, showing that it repeated.

They grilled us about how we’d made each component, how we’d handled the repeating, how many times we expected the bracelet to trigger before the enchantment wore off, on and on until they had nothing else to ask.

“The pinatas are certainly a solid choice for a party favor,” Fabienne said. “I’ve seen various enchanted versions of the

large ones, but I can’t think of any in miniature. And you not only have those, but you also went above and beyond with a

second spelled item inside instead of, say, simply candy. Well done.”

Gil and I smiled at each other. Awesome!

“They’re utterly charming,” Doris said. “I can envision scores of children happily throwing them in the air and clapping.

And as Fabienne said, the pinatas alone were excellent, but the bracelets are inspired.”

Two for two! But Hugh was next.

He stared at us in silence for long enough that I had to fight the urge to grab Gil’s hand. Fuck it. I did.

“These are exceptional,” Hugh said. “You’ve melded form and function in a way that aligns with the original object, while

adding elements of magic and whimsy. The bracelets are also quite the feat, and perfect for the child-centric approach you’ve

taken here. Good work.”

I waited for the criticism, and it didn’t come. My mind exploded like a pinata. In a daze, I thanked the judges and went back

to our station with Gil, still holding his hand.

We waited as the scores were decided. There seemed to be some disagreement, but it was hard to tell what about. Finally they

finished and went back to their places. The camerapeople got their cameras ready, Tori retreated to her corner, and Syd took

over.

“First,” Syd said, “it’s my honor to present the winners of this round. They definitely put the party in party favors, and

their spells made the judges want to yell, ‘Presto’!”

Oh my god. No way.

“This round’s winners are... Penelope and Leandro!”

Leandro and I high-fived when what I wanted to do was scream and dance. Celebrating too much now would be mean to the other

contestants, though.

If we’d won, who was going to be dropped?

“And now,” Syd continued. “I’m sorry to say one team will be leaving us today. Both remaining groups did well, but had their

troubles. Unfortunately, in the end, the judges decided that a well-executed but less inspired idea met the round’s requirements

better than a good idea gone wrong.”

Oh no.

“Dylan and Zeke, you won’t be joining us in the final round.” Syd smiled. “But I’ll be happy to dispose of the rest of your

radio cakes personally.”

Dylan smiled, and Zeke shrugged, and that was that. I couldn’t believe it.

I knew it wasn’t my fault, that I’d done what I could. And it wasn’t about me, it was about them. But I couldn’t help but

wonder: Was this sabotage again? Had someone—had Felicia waited until it was too late for them to fix the spell, then somehow

made it go wrong?

And if she had, what would she do to us in the final round?