Page 52 of Witch You Would

I checked that my pigtails were even, slipped on my safety glasses and pointy black hat, then left the bathroom and walked

down the hallway. A frazzled-looking teacher passed me going the other way, holding the hand of a kindergartner doing the

universally recognizable potty dance. I’d wait a few extra minutes to start so they had time to get back.

As soon as I stepped into the lecture room, a dozen excited kids mobbed me with questions.

“What spell are we doing, miss?”

“Can I be your helper, miss?”

“Miss, do you know what my favorite animal is? It’s a koala!”

I smiled and listened and hugged and finally made my way to the table where my reagents waited. Tyler, event coordinator extraordinaire,

waved at me from the corner as he chatted with one of the field trip chaperones. I gave him a thumbs-up so he’d know I was

ready to start, and he politely disentangled himself from his convo to join me.

“Welcome to the Desgraves Studio, everyone!” Tyler said, waiting for the noise level to drop as teachers hushed the kids and made them sit down. “We’re so excited to have you with us for a special spell presentation from our resident witch, the Fantastic Frances!”

He clapped, the others joined in, and I curtseyed in the way I’d practiced that made my poofy sequined skirt do a sparkly

ripple effect.

“Are you all ready to cast some magic spells?” I asked, opening my arms to the sides.

“Yeah!” the kids shouted back.

I’d done the bubble spell from the Alan Kazam kit enough times now that I had the steps memorized, but I still wrote them

on the board—as drawings in this case, since reading was still a developing skill for five- and six-year-olds. I’d found that

it helped them during the parts when I pretended to get mixed up; it was easier for them to correct me by pointing at the

picture.

Even though Gil and I lost, our time on Cast Judgment weirdly ended up helping me out in the way I hoped: I’d gotten a job. Fabienne Desgraves hired me to work in her stockroom,

doing more or less exactly what I’d done at Espinosa’s. All the stars lined up perfectly; the show had done all the background

check stuff, I already lived in Miami, I had years of experience, and she’d apparently caught me helping the other contestants—including

Felicia—which impressed her. She’d also decided she liked what she called “the Title I angle,” which she hadn’t pursued before;

now Tyler was bringing in more school field trips for spell demonstrations using the Alan Kazam Schools Are Magic lessons,

starring me or Leandro Presto, or both of us together. Gil and I sometimes did birthday parties and other events at the studio,

too.

I hadn’t had so much fun in years. Past Penelope with all her sad donkey moping was long gone, and she could stay that way. Not that I had stopped being careful, obviously, but I could be careful and fun at the same time.

I also got to work on my abuela’s spellbook, finally. Fabienne let me use the casting rooms at the studio whenever they weren’t

already booked. I’d gotten through only a few spells so far, but it was more than I’d managed to do in the years I’d worked

at Espinosa’s, so it was already a win.

“Hmm,” I said, looking around the room. “Does anyone know where I put my magic bubble wand?”

“Your hat!” the kids screamed.

“My what? Where?”

“Your HAT!”

I made a show of taking off my hat and looking at it. “Are you sure? I don’t see it.”

“It’s inside!”

My eyes big, I started digging around in the hat. I pulled out a dozen colorful silk handkerchiefs knotted together, a toy

bunny, a whoopie cushion—they loved the fart noises—and then finally my star-shaped bubble wand.

“You were right!” I exclaimed. “Thank you so much. I would never have found it without you.”

After I finished dispelling the last of the bubble animals and took a bow, I stayed to talk to the kids and adults. I did

a few more little spells to entertain them, then said my goodbyes with the Alan Kazam signature line, “Trust the magic, and

the magic will trust you,” and went back to the bathroom to change. My outfit today was a little dressier than usual, and

Tyler winked at me when I got back out.

“Date night?” he asked.

“You know it,” I said.

“Where’s Loverdork taking you this time?”

“It’s a surprise.”

I loved when Gil surprised me. Last week we went to an author Q the week before that was

a movie night at the library, and before that it was a free belly dancing class. Once we’d even gone to a sidewalk chalk magic

party with Rosy and Sam and Ed, and spent two hours casting silly spells and drawing random stuff and smearing chalk all over

each other while laughing our asses off.

Life was so good, I couldn’t believe it sometimes.

Gil was picking me up today, but normally after work I’d go home. My new apartment was close to his—a studio instead of an

efficiency, with an actual wall to separate the living room and kitchen from my bedroom. I’d had to borrow money from my sister

to afford the down payment, but I was paying her back. Slowly. Totally worth it to have privacy for when we wanted some screaming-each-other’s-names

time, as Rosy called it, though we were still quiet because I didn’t want my neighbors to hate me.

He had a key to my place, and a toothbrush there, and some spare clothes. When his lease was up, we were thinking maybe, possibly,

he’d move in until we could upgrade to something bigger... but that was months away, and a lot could change.

For one thing, we were both stuck in the middle of arbitration with the Cast Judgment people. They’d ended up canceling the season, possibly even the show, and totally buried the whole federal-crime thing somehow—must

be nice to have expensive corporate lawyers—but they couldn’t get away with doing literally nothing for us when the whole

competition had gone to shit. They owed us big fat checks, for sure. Like, so big.

And it wasn’t just us, it was the charities they’d promised money and publicity to.

Doris might have sabotaged spells in every round because she was salty about getting fired, and Charlotte might have been the one to pay her for it, but proving any of that was hard.

Gil and I had the best case of anyone thanks to the bribe check and freezer charm, plus Gil’s dad was a total shark of a lawyer, telling us what to do and say at every step.

Yeah, I’d met his parents, though he hadn’t met mine yet. His dad was a typical macho Cuban guy, living in a ridiculously

expensive condo in Coral Gables with his latest novela-hot girlfriend. His mom was a total drama queen; she offered me a glass

of wine as soon as I walked in and then drank half a bottle before dinner was ready, complaining about random stuff the whole

time.

I understood why he avoided them, and he understood why I barely talked to mine. Some scars kept hurting long after they’d

healed.

His grandpa Fred was great, though. Alan Kazam! So cool. He loved to talk about magic stuff as much as Gil did, plus he was

full of awesome stories.

My phone buzzed. Gil, texting that he was outside. I grabbed my purse and ran out, waving goodbye to Tati in the gift shop.

She pointed at my dress and gave me two thumbs up as I passed.

Still hot, still sunny, typical Miami at six o’clock. Gil parked on the side street a little ways up, next to someone’s driveway.

He saw me coming and got out, and if I hadn’t been wearing heels, I probably would have run so I could hug him faster. He

was wearing a dark red button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and black pants, and he’d combed his hair but left it

in messy curls, just how I liked it.

He pulled me in for a kiss, his hands around my waist while mine reached up to his neck. Mmm. Kissing him was like reading my fa vorite book and watching my favorite movie and casting my favorite spell all rolled into one. Magic, every time.

“We match,” he murmured against my mouth.

We didn’t always, and that was okay. It was nice when it happened, though, and it did happen a lot. Today I was wearing a

black dress with dark red lace over the top. Perfect.

“So where are we going?” I asked.

He put his finger against his lips and grinned. “Let’s go and you’ll find out.”

We went. Rush-hour traffic sucked, but it wasn’t so bad when you had someone awesome to talk to and weren’t stressed about

getting somewhere on time. I told him about my day, he told me about his—college students were way less adorable than kindergartners,

but such was the life of an adjunct. He’d gotten hired back for the semester, though the pay was a giant fart noise. Between

that and his Mage You Look money, two unstable jobs made one decent living.

We talked about his next spell request, mango-flavored snow, and how to make it go wrong without ending up with a huge sticky

mess. I hadn’t known it before, but he also recorded how-to videos that used to only be released to certain subscribers; after

the competition comemierdería, he talked it over with his friends, who had wanted to stop doing them. Now they got released

along with the oopsie-doodle version, which had the surprise side effect of bringing in new subscribers happy to see a more

serious side of Leandro Presto. Who knew anyone wanted that?

Besides me, I guess. But I’d liked his serious side first.

“Are we going to the beach?” I asked when he got into the lane for the exit.

“Maybe,” he said, grinning.

We parked at a garage on Collins and started walking. I wished I’d worn better shoes, but such was the price of fashion. After a few blocks, Gil stopped in front of a neon-signed building that looked vaguely familiar. Oh!

“Is this the bar we went to the first night of the show?” I asked.

“It is. I got the deets from Little Manny. Come on.”

The place was full of people tonight, but otherwise it was how I remembered. Same huge mirrored wall of booze, same big stage