Spellbound: A magical sequel to Bewitched by Daisy Prescott Page A

sift through the dozens of black garbage bags we’ve filled already.  
    There’s no magic in the heart other than the sentimental kind that makes couples keep ticket stubs and carnival prizes as mementos. A memory in physical form.
    Ah, nostalgia, you sneaky bastard.
    After finishing the pile, I snap off the gloves and toss them into the last black bag.
    “You’re not keeping them?” Tate fakes a sad puppy face.
    “Not enough bleach in Massachusetts to sanitize them.”
    He gags with an open mouth. “Thanks for the cleanup assistance. It always amazes me no one else shows up to help.”
    “Maybe they think your household staff handles it for you. Or it all disappears by magic.” I sweep my hands back and forth in front of my face in the weird move magicians use to deflect attention for their slight of hand.
    “Why can you start fires but not enchant a broom and dustpan to do the work while we eat breakfast?”
    “If only it worked that way.” Staring at the broom leaning against the wall, I count to fifteen. “I’ve got nothing. Sorry.”
    “At least you can make objects move.”
    I knock the broom over by imagining it on the floor. It bounces once as it hits. In terms of magic, it’s less than spectacular. Or impressive. “You can diffuse and absorb emotions.”
    Tate makes slow moving jazz hands. “I’m a human sponge. Not as good as knocking brooms over with my mind, but it’s useful working in the dorms.”
    “This conversation is ridiculous. We’re trying to out diminish each other’s talents. Skills most people don’t believe exist, but dream of having. Only thing more stupid than this conversation would be a bunch of superheroes sitting around complaining.”  
    “True, but you’d totally moan about the tights and capes.”
    “Too much Lycra.” I have nothing to hide. I run almost every day. However, no one needs to see a man squished into a unitard.
    “I happen to have amazing legs.” Tate spins around once, making me laugh. “Hey, you want to catch the latest Marvel megafilm tonight? Burgers and bros?”
    It’s tempting and would’ve been an automatic yes for me before last night. “Sorry. I have plans. Maybe later in the week?”
    “Okay.” He studies my face with narrowed eyes. “Does this have anything to do with Madison?”
    “We have a date.” I swear my heart beats quicker at the idea.
    “Finally.” He doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he grabs two of the trash bags by their knots and lugs them outside.
    Tate’s known about Madison for two years. He’s had to suffer the wait as long as I have.
    He also knows I’m ignoring all advice to wait until she’s officially twenty-one in three weeks. My mother’s vision has always been specific about Madison’s age when we fall in love.
    What difference do a few days make when it comes to true love?

Two

    I pace outside of Madison’s dorm like a stalker. I study the ivy crawling up the building and wonder if someone could climb it to reach the windows on the second floor.
    For the record, I’ve never stalked her.  
    If anything, I’ve tried to avoid her for two years, keeping my distance. Admiring her from across the campus, I’ve memorized her laugh and delicate features. It hasn’t been easy to stay away. Torturous.
    Okay, that sounds a little creepy. I swear it’s all been innocent.  
    I pined from a safe distance, learning what I could about her without interfering. I waited and slowly fell in love without her noticing me until this semester. That’s a lie. I fell for her the first time I saw her outside her dorm. Rushing down the steps, she tripped and I reached out to steady her. We never touched.
    She didn’t notice me.
    The boring guy in glasses who never speaks to anyone? That’s been me.
    My father’s words from when I started high school echo in my head.  
    Be boring.
    He believed the Jesuits at the all-boys school in Boston he sent me to could balance out whatever magic mumbo-jumbo my mother