Page 9 of Witch You Would

I wore my goofy grin like a mask and tried to focus on Syd. They were explaining tonight’s group activity, which I had already

been briefed on since I was providing the entertainment. My brain kept sliding sideways to Penelope, who stood next to me

in the greatest apron I’d ever seen. Las llamas de mi amor! Legendary pun.

When I’d gotten my partner’s bio from Rachel earlier, I couldn’t believe it. Not only would I be stuck in a hotel with my

secret crush for two weeks, but we’d be working on spells together. I hadn’t had to fake how excited I was when I walked out

to meet her.

Except Penelope was the woman from the park who hated me.

Maybe “hated” was a strong word. But last night had been a huge mess, one I had to clean up if Penelope and I were going to

win this competition.

Funny how quickly my pessimism had flipped to “maybe we have a chance.” I knew what Penelope was capable of. Now I just had

to convince her that I wasn’t going to be a failboat captain.

“Our Spellebrities have a reputation to maintain, after all,” Syd said, cutting through my thoughts. “Some more serious than

others.”

That was my cue. I went with mock confusion, looking around and mouthing, Me? while I pointed at my chest. Everyone chuckled.

Penelope’s smile looked super fake, though. Ouch. This was going to be a mission.

Syd wrapped up the scripted stuff. The judges left, probably to their trailers. The contestants were separated from the celebrities,

and we were led back to our greenroom, abandoned until it was our turn for confessionals or publicity shots.

The place looked like a fancy hotel bar: expensive couches and leather chairs, glass-topped coffee tables, a dining area,

even a bookcase stocked with random hardcovers. Tiered platters full of tiny appetizers lured me over to the polished mahogany

counter. College had taught me never to pass up free food. I filled a plate and inhaled egg sushi rolls, tiny quiches, prosciutto-wrapped

dates, and pastelitos de guayaba that looked nothing like what I usually got from a Cuban bakery. The slits on top were in

a flower shape, and they were covered in powdered sugar. I had two anyway.

Charlotte grabbed a sparkling water from the fridge and sat alone at a table. She might as well have wrapped herself in a

bunch of do-not-cross tape; she’d made it clear earlier that she wasn’t here to socialize with any of us.

Jaya and Zeke took up spots on the couches, trading recipes for cookies or something. Tanner joined them, his mellow voice

and accent reminding me of old movies and NPR reporters, which fit his old-timey vest-wearing vibe. If I didn’t know Zeke

was from Pittsburgh, I probably would have ignorantly guessed Boston, though he sounded twangier. “Dey” instead of “they”

kinda stuff. Jaya’s British Indian accent seemed faded, like she’d lived in the US for a long time.

I wondered what I sounded like to them? Super Miami?

The conversation wandered away from food, and even though Jaya and Tanner and Zeke tried to include me, they started talking about mutuals and contract renewals and options and some party they went to at the Home Casting Network building a few months earlier.

It reminded me of events with my parents before they split up, when I was old enough to get dragged out and shown off for their friends and business contacts, but not to actively participate in their conversations.

Like I had as a kid, I mostly zoned out, until it suddenly got relevant.

“Yinz guys heard about Doris Twist?” Zeke asked.

Yinz?

Tanner nodded stiffly. “Makes me a mite nervous, I don’t mind telling you. She’s had her difficulties, but I thought she was

safe. If they can do this to her, they can do it to anyone.”

“Is she okay?” I asked.

“She’s retiring, after however many years on this show,” Jaya said.

“Is that what they’re calling it?” Zeke asked. “Retiring? From a show she started?”

“Making room for young blood.” Tanner gestured at me. “You could be next on the roster.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Guess it depends on how this Spellebrity thing goes.”

Zeke rubbed his bald head. “The number crunchers have their own magic math that only makes sense to them. Don’t stress about

it. That’s your agent’s job.”

“This business is cutthroat,” Jaya agreed. “Take care of yourself, because you never know when it will be your neck on the

block.”

“Win or lose,” Tanner said, “just do your best.”

Charlotte made a scoffing noise. I wasn’t sure why.

“And do be nice to your partner,” Tanner added. “Poor girl looked like she had the shock of her life seeing you walk in.”

That made two of us. Before I could decide whether to confess that we’d met before, the UPM, Rachel, appeared.

“Mr. Presto, if you’d follow me, please?” she said.

“Lead the way, Rachel.”

Rachel took me through an empty cubicle farm to a room with an LED sign on the door that read, “Recording.” Liam, one of the

sound guys, checked my mic and transmitter and pronounced me ready.

A makeup lady—Fina, I think?—was also there for touch-ups. She muttered something about my mustache; I hoped it hadn’t moved.

I’d used a new adhesive that was supposed to last longer than spirit gum and look more realistic for TV. It would be harder

to get off, but that was better than having a fake facial hair malfunction.

The room was mostly dark, with a few soft lights, as if the people inside were meant to be floating in some astral plane where

inner thoughts manifested externally. Creepy. Two chairs sat against the wall behind the door, one of them already occupied

by Penelope. I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile; she gave me the same fake one from before. Great.

Camera guy Nate waved from the corner, and Tori closed the door behind me. I sat down and swallowed the stage fright making

my egg sushi want to come back up.

“For this confessional,” Tori said, “you’ve both just been told you’re partners, and you’re going to talk about each other

a little. All compliments, you’re happy and excited to work together, you’re ready to win. Got it?”

We nodded.

“Penelope first,” Tori said. “I’ll count you down. Ready?”

Penelope inhaled sharply but nodded again.

“Nate, start rolling. Penelope, give me some hype in five, four . . .” The rest of the countdown was done on her fingers silently, then she pointed at Penelope.

If I hadn’t already known how she felt about me, the absolute mierda she talked about how fun my videos were and how much

she’d loved my butterfly spell at Dolphin Mall would have tricked me into thinking she was a fan. She was fresca como una

lechuga, as my dad would say. We were going to crush this.

“Leandro, your turn,” Tori said.

Ah. Fuck. I’d spent the whole time staring at Penelope like a happy puppy. Sam would laugh her ass off if she saw me now.

I had to say nice things without accidentally letting anything slip that Leandro shouldn’t know. What had her bio said? Stick

to the basics, Gil. Rule two. Stay. In. Character.

“I’m really excited to work with a spell technician,” I said. “She’ll know everything about all the reagents and equipment

we’re going to be using. She has a lot of experience helping people solve problems and prep for casting. Maybe she can even

stop me from making mistakes before they happen!” I grinned at the camera, then at Penelope. She was still fake smiling.

“Now, give us a battle cry,” Tori said. “You’re going to win, you’ve got this, whatever.”

Penelope seemed stuck, so I stepped in. “Miami gotta represent! We’re not here to play, we’re here to win. No jokes, just

game face.” I made a fake-macho duck face for the camera, then looked at Penelope.

She laughed. A real one, I think, because it sounded surprised. I held up a hand for a high five, and she slapped it.

“Good, great.” Tori tapped her tablet. “Now we need a few minutes with Leandro alone.” She got up and opened the door. “Little

Manny! Take Penelope back to the greenroom.”

Penelope followed Little Manny out, forehead wrinkled, shoulders hunched. Maybe that laugh hadn’t been real. The door closed, sounding loud in the small room.

“Tell us about your charity, Leandro,” Tori said.

This was my chance to sell Alan Kazam’s Schools Are Magic to anyone watching. Even if I didn’t win, this might help bring

in more donations.

I explained how Alan started his magic career because of what he learned as a kid in school, how his first performances were

for elementary classes, and it led to him getting a local TV show that eventually went big. Almost everyone my age remembered

watching him “putting the fun in magic fundamentals.” Then I went into why he had founded the charity, and what the money

was used for. With any luck, my whole speech would make it into the show, hopefully with some intercut video or pictures from

the AKSAM archives.

I didn’t mention that Alan Kazam was my grandpa Fred. Family secret.

Tori did more tablet things. “That was great, thanks so much. Since we moved the schedule around, you have publicity shots

with our stills photographer now, then you’ll have time to go back to the hotel to prep for tonight. Did you need anything,

any reagents or gear?”

“I’ve got it.”

“Great. Someone can take you out to the van when you’re ready.” Tori opened the door. “Rachel, I need Tanner and Quentin next,

please.”

Liam de-mic’d me and Rachel led me to the photographer’s studio space. I posed in various goofy ways for about a half hour, then headed to the exit to wait for transport. Penelope was back in her greenroom, presumably, because she wasn’t outside.

Tonight, I promised myself, I’d have a talk with her. I’d convince her we were a solid team even if I had to make a total

fool of myself to do it.

I ’ d checked the prices for Casa Coquí online, and I would probably never stay at a place this nice again in my life, unless

one of my parents paid or that legendary show deal manifested. When I got in last night, I’d barely noticed anything except