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“Test me all you want,’ Tessa declared. ‘But know this: I will not give up. I will fight and fight to take care of those I love. [...] this is my chance to protect them just as they protect me. Even now, I will fight to stop those who try to hurt the ones I love, those that try to hurt others the way they hurt me. And I am worthy of their love, because I’m enough as I am, and I believe in myself, too. Even though I’m nothing much, I can be a hero.”

“I tilt my head toward the ceiling and gasp. Because, somehow, there is no more ceiling. No roof, nothing. It’s the night sky, brilliant with shimmering stars, the rare cloud pale against the darkness, and the full moon that glows so big it feels like I can reach up and brush my fingers against it. Here, by this highway that’s nearly deserted at night, there are so few lights and no cities for miles around so the stars can glow bright. Awe fills my heart, like a breath of clean, pure air.”

“Gluten-free acai cupcakes, with a new buttercream frosting I’m testing out.” “Ooh, my favorite! A fresh batch?” I can almost taste the sweet tingle of the fruity acai, tangling with a hint of coconut and that dollop of extra honey that Ana uses in the frosting. Mmm. She knows acai is one of my favorite flavors at her shop. What Ana doesn’t know is that acai is my go-to because she weaves in a hint of bravery when she purees the fruit. And, being a shy nobody, I need all the bravery I can get.”

“There's something magical about painting. It's the closest thing I've felt to the enchantment of casting a spell. The thick tubes of creamy paint, especially when they're fresh. The sleek tips of the brushes I like, the dark fibers contrasting with the bright colors. It's in front of the canvas that I feel like me. It's a feeling I can't capture elsewhere, really. It's like all that blank space is a mirror, and for once, it sees me---the true me. And I'm not invisible. Here, the paint, the art, it makes me real. Into somebody who leaves a trace.”

“I scoop up a generous mouthful, thankful for something cool to take away the sudden heat flushing up me neck. I can’t believe I agreed to this…. My drawings aren’t good enough. Then the flavor of the ice cream bursts through my mouth. And it isn’t vanilla or chocolate or any ordinary flavor like that. Honeysuckle. Our favorite activity during third-grade recess was to hide behind the classroom, lying under the window so Ms. King wouldn’t see us and ask what we were doing. Jack and I would lie out among the clover and honeysuckle, holding hands and just staring up at the impossibly huge sky. Some days, I’d bring my sketch pad so we could draw the clouds, and we made those little pictures into stories. A cloud-bunny would go on adventures with the cloud-dragon, and they’d find gleaming treasures and hidden magical lands, always together. When we got bored, we’d suck on the stems of the honeysuckle for a drop of sweetness. Those honeysuckle days are some of the sweetest moments I ever had growing up.”

“It's almost like he's trying to protect me. He hasn't done this since fifth grade, when the most popular, richest, and prettiest girl (seriously, where is the justice in the world?) in the year below us, Minami Vu, made fun of my overalls. "Those are so last year," she'd sneered, with her perfect button nose pointing up in the air. Her mother is a venture capitalist, and Minami always wears the latest styles before they even started trending on Instagram. I'd been proud of my green corduroy overalls. Hell, I didn't even know overalls had a year. But Jack loudly commented, "I like overalls. They look good on you, Ellie." Then he'd shifted in front of me, facing the girl, and she flushed all red. The following week, she wore the exact same green corduroy overalls to school. For some reason, he never complimented her on them.”

“The shops of Palo Alto's Sorcerer Square are in plain sight, but this ordinary-seeming plaza has a secret side. My favorite is my parents' shop, of course, where they sell the most energizing, freshly made tea in the city---with a hint of a joy charm. Plus there's Ana's bakery, where her just-baked cinnamon streusel cupcakes brighten up her customers' days and give them a shot of courage. We've also got what looks like a pharmacy (but it is truly an apothecary for everything from bottled charms to elixirs that fix spells that go wrong); a clothing store (useful when you need jeans that have real pockets---and magical ones to hide charms and enchanted vials); an ensorcelled vegetarian South Indian restaurant with the most fragrant spice mixes ever; a cozy gem store filled with healing crystals and magic-gathering mood rings; and an enchanted fruit shop with dragon fruit that burns with a sugary fire.”

“Onigiri, little triangular balls of rice, each with different seasonings, rest on one side of the basket next to packets of dried seaweed. And there’s boxes of the best side dishes ever in the middle: everything from potato salad drizzled with tonkatsu sauce (Jack’s favorite) to gomae spinach, boiled spinach with sesame seeds (my favorite). On the other side, there are tiny bottles of green tea and two boxes labeled Dessert.”

“He's all dark and light. His perfectly mussed brown hair, lighter than mine because he's half-Japanese, half-Italian. His eyes that have specks of light brown, but shades of darkness, too. The tan of his skin from playing tennis on the school team. His slightly crooked nose from when we were kids and went ice skating at Winter Lodge, chasing each other around the rink, and he tripped over a bump in the ice. Somehow, it works on him. He's gorgeous. And I hate him.”

“And he’s also shirtless. His body is… ripped. Jack’s got a six-pack that disappears under his low-hanging shorts and every muscle looks like it was sculpted out of earthenware clay and baked to perfection. I thought it was fun to draw his hands, but why draw just his hands when his whole body should be cast into a bronze sculpture? I don’t blame him for playing tennis all these years. In fact, I thank tennis—”

“It’s like I’m at a middle school dance. He slides his hands around my waist, and I loop my arms around his so-broad-they-should-be-illegal shoulders. Oh, tennis. Damn. He shifts, and we begin to sway side to side. There’s no music, but the natural world outside is like a magical, real-life orchestra. The rustling grass sounds like the soft keys of a piano; the faraway cars thrum like the beat of a drum.”

“Those are the best evenings, when we fill up on bread bowls stuffed to the brim with clam chowder and then spend the full-moon-drenched night on the empty pier, gathering the thick, swirling clouds of raw magic. I wouldn't be able to spend late nights with Remy, cozied up in my room with magic-infused globes floating around us as we watch the latest episode of Demon Slayer projected on my ceiling, while sipping charmed mugs of yuzu honey tea.”

“Just being near all these beautiful books reminds me of the feeling I get when I'm in front of a blank canvas holding a palette filled smears of colorful paint. I run my fingers across the smooth paper jackets of the spines, sinking into daydreams of the worlds and characters hidden between the covers, until I stop at Spin the Dawn, one of my absolute favorites, with one of the most gorgeous covers I've ever seen.”

“And face-to-face with the lush vineyard, I feel my worries melt away. The grapes glow with that magical golden sunlight, but from here, it feels far more real. I turn and turn, drinking in the sights of the green vines, thick with plump grapes, the same sage green as the broad leaves fluttering in the breeze. Dusty paths stretch between the rows, and I want to walk through them forever, listening to the almost-quiet of this strange, beautiful world.”

“His eyes light up. “Wait, this is a sakura mochi. How did you remember—" I glance down and curse internally at the faintly pink, round dessert, pale as a cherry blossom petal. How did I remember his favorite? His mom used to take us, Cam, and Remy down to San Jose to go around Japantown, picking up bentos from a homey restaurant to eat at the park, and then we’d stop at Shuei-Do Manju Shop. Every time, without fail, Jack would choose sakura mochi. The times that there was only one left in stock, the rest of us purposefully ordered other sweets, just so Jack could get his favorite. And his eyes would shine with delight as he munched on the pink rice cake, the way he’s smiling now.”

“So, why were you trying to flirt with that asshole at the boardwalk?” My jaw drops. I’ve got to be hearing things. I— “Wow, there,” Ruby says. “That’s a new form of distraction I haven’t heard before. I like that. I thought you two were a couple by the way you look at each other but—” I panic-stare at her and she snorts, “Never mind, you do you, keep talking.” I stammer. “It…it was…” Jack says, maybe to Ruby or maybe to himself, “Ellie’s not usually like this, for sure.” “How would you know what I’m like?” My cheeks flush, and I barely notice Ruby lining up the needle. People love to label me. What about what I want to label myself? Especially Jack—he’s pretended not to know me for so long. Jack grins. “Well, we’ll have to debate later on that.” “No, we won’t!” There’s no way I’m going to let him ignore me. I’m going to throttle him as soon as— “You’re all done.” Ruby places a mirror in front of me. “What do you think?” Already? I turn my head to look; my skin’s a little pink, but there it is—the star-shaped silver piercing is on my right ear, at the exact spot I’d chosen. I breathe out in surprise, giving it the label I want. “It’s perfect.” Jack smiles smugly, standing up from the stool. “And I was the perfect distraction.” I’ll ignore that.”