They were opposites in every way, but they were still sisters. They were all that was left of Mom. Well, other than Uncle Oswald, and Effie had a good mind to scrub him from their family tree entirely.
‘I’m sorry, Bonnie. I should’ve helped you. I should’ve seen what was going on. But I was so caught up, you know.’
She trailed off, shooting a meaningful glance in Theo’s direction. Fortunately, Theo was busy dangling a witch pendulum from his fingers, his brow furrowed as it swung gently from side to side.
Bonnie raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, that all worked out.’
‘What did?’ asked Theo.
‘I’ll take that,’ said Effie, pulling the pendulum from his fingers. A witch pendulum helped channel one’s sixth sense to make the answer to questions clearer. Effie wasn’t sure that was precisely what Theo needed right now –Effiewas the one who was going to try her best to explain the situation.
‘Right now, I need your help,’ said Effie. Pulling one of the quills from the holder, she scooted it, together with an inkwell, over to Theo. Then she produced a sheet of handmade paper, one of the beautiful marbled pieces that Tessa had made for her as a birthday gift the previous year. She felt a pang asshe considered all the hard work and love that Tessa had put into the gift just a few months earlier, and the hurt way that Tessa had spoken to her tonight.
She’d make it right, she vowed. She’d make it all right.
‘Theo, I need you to write down a memory for me. A special one, though. One you hold very dear.’
‘I’ll try. I haven’t handwritten anything longer than my signature in years. Especially not with a quill.’
‘I believe in you,’ said Effie drily. ‘But there’s a caveat.’
‘Sounds bad,’ said Theo, lifting his quill from the page.
Bonnie sighed. ‘There’s always a caveat with magic.’
‘You’ll lose the memory.’
Theo frowned. ‘I thought we were trying torestorememories?’
‘We are. But magic like this involves giving something of ourselves in return.’
Theo nodded slowly. ‘I’m beginning to see why you stick to elevator doors.’
‘Bonnie, can you do the same?’ Effie slid a quill and sheet towards her sister.
Bonnie was frowning. ‘Wait, so you’re saying that every time I had a nightmare,’ she said slowly, ‘Bobby was giving up one of his memories?’
‘He always offered,’ said Effie quietly.
‘And Mom was okay with that?’
‘He only ever gave up memories of you,’ said Effie. ‘Because he knew that he could always make more.’
Bonnie went silent as she considered this, turning her quill over and over in her hand.
‘We’ll speak them aloud,’ promised Effie. ‘So that even if one of us is giving up a memory, the others will remember.’
‘All right,’ said Bonnie in a small voice. She scratched down a memory on her page.
‘Mine is when Mom showed us how to French braid our hair, and we all sat in front of that antique mirror practisingand practising. Even you, Effie, even though you’re still terrible at it.’
Effie’s eyes brimmed at the memory. ‘I remember,’ she said.
Grabbing a quill herself, Effie carefully wrote down her own memory.
‘My memory,’ she said, trying to keep her voice calm, ‘is when I was trying to do that enormous jigsaw puzzle over the summer, but I’d bitten off more than I could chew, even though I refused to admit it. You and Mom spent a whole week working with me on it, pretending that you actually wanted to.’
‘I remember,’ said Bonnie, blinking away tears.
