“Grandma didn’t,” I whisper, letting my forehead thump against the books.
Lucy rests the toy in her lap, expression softening. “You’re not Grandma, Amelia,” she says quietly, letting the reminder hang heavy between us before straightening and continuing in a far more confident voice. “Besides, Grandma wasn’t so perfect.” She waggles her arms. “Hello? Dancing skeletons?”
I half-sob, half-laugh at her imitation of last night’s disastrous decorations. “Luce, what am I going to do?”
“Well, you certainly can’t keep hosting if your anxiety is going to cause the magic to run amok through the town.”
“I don’t have anxiety,” I retort.
Lucy raises a scolding eyebrow at me.
“Fine,” I sigh. I fall back against the bookcase, clutching a novel to my chest as if it can shield me from reality. “So, what? Turn the whole thing over to Don? I can’t do that.”
Lucy snorts, the corner of her lip lifting. “Why not? I would. He’d be thrilled. He never gets to host.”
I shake my head, unwilling to even contemplate the option. “No way. I can’t have the whole town thinking I can’t handle things now that Grandma is gone. Besides, I’m not even sure that’s what it was. Myanxietywas worse before I got on stage, not after.”
Lucy gives me a sad, tight-lipped smile, a mix of understanding and pity shadowing her eyes.
“Ugh, stop looking at me like that.”
She throws her hands up in surrender, toy skeleton rattling. “Fine, fine. So, we need to figure out what else could have caused the magic to flip out and find a solution before the market tonight. That can’t be too hard, right? Run me through everything that happened again.”
“I gave the speech, and then Stacy brought me to the host’s section. The first float came by with Don and the gymnasts doing their thing, and I was talking to Oliver, and then?—”
“Wait”—Lucy holds up a hand to cut me off—“you were talking to the new guy in town when the ballerinas started flying?”
“Would you stop saying that?”
“Would you answer the question?”
I sigh and wave my book at her. “Fine, yes. I was talking to Oliver when the brooms started acting up.”
She nods thoughtfully, looking like she’s working through a math problem involving a guy who bought eighty-seven bottles of soda with a buy-three-get-one-free coupon. “And then what?”
“Then I ran over to do a charm reversal, and he helped gather up one of the girls?—”
“Wait!”
I glare at her for cutting me off again, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
“The new guy was helping with the flying ballerinas? You left that part out last time.”
“Maybe you didn’t hear me because you were so focused on theflying ballerinas.” I raise an eyebrow and challenge her with a tip of my head.
“Point taken, I won’t say it anymore. Please tell me how the new guy helped with your unruly sticks.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “That isnotan improvement.”
She waves her hands at me, urging me to continue.
I roll my eyes until the back of my head hits the hardbacks behind me. “Yes, we were talking, and then the brooms started acting up. Sophie started spiraling toward the pumpkin truck, and he ran over and got it under control before I could get there.”
“I thought you said the brooms needed a reversal charm?”
I nod, thinking back to how the broom kept hovering even though the charm should have only worked with a rider present, not after. “They did. That’s what made the whole thing even weirder. It’s like they had a mind of their own. Like something amplified the magic, or it was fighting back, or something.”
“So, if the brooms required a reversal, how did Oliver get it under control before you got there?”
