Stork by Wendy Delsol

time I’d had anything to laugh about. I righted myself and looked at my two new friends. “You guys look great.”
    “Nobody’s going to recognize us,” Tina said, fingering her bangs. I promptly swatted her hand away.
    “You could get community service hours for this,” Penny said, checking herself out in a full-length mirror. “Or at least extra credit with Ms. Bryant.”
    I gathered my things and shoved them into my bag. “It was fun. And if you guys like the results, then that’s all I need.” I really did get a kick out of seeing them preen in the mirror. “Should we get going?” I asked, bundling myself into a thick cream-colored fisherman’s sweater, knee-length down vest, nubby wool scarf, and fur-lined trapper hat with ear flaps.
    Penny looked at me and giggled. “It’s supposed to be pretty mild tonight.”
    I shrugged. “I take no chances with the cold.”

It actually was a beautiful fall evening, and I probably was too warmly dressed. Still, it wasn’t completely nightfall yet. And the weather here was more fickle than the Hollywood press.
    The Asking Fire took place on a remote acreage. We walked along an old trail lit by hanging lanterns, skirting thick woods until we came to a wide-open field. The bonfire, a towering inferno of at least ten feet, was already burning brightly. It emitted a heat that gave the crowd golden complexions and rosy cheeks. There were benches and picnic tables set around the area, and a stage off to one side of the fire. Some kids had brought their own blankets, and these were laid out in front of the stage. Cups of punch and boxes of sugary donuts lined a refreshments table. At another table were boxes of pencils and colored squares of paper.
    “So how does this thing work?” I asked.
    Penny and Tina looked at each other with giddy expressions. “You write down the name of the boy you hope will ask you,” Penny said. “Then you offer the paper to the fire. If your heart is true, then he’ll ask you.”
    “You seriously believe that?”
    Penny shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to try, even if it is a long shot.” She picked up a pencil and a small square of light blue paper. She scribbled something quickly.
    Tina also jotted something down and then folded the pink paper over twice. “Aren’t you going to write down a name?” she asked.
    “No way,” I said quickly. “I’m just here for the show.”
    “What happened to you two?” I recognized Jack’s voice and turned to find him standing behind me. He was staring at Penny and Tina, as was his friend Pedro.
    “Don’t they look great?” I said.
    Pedro was the first to answer. “You both look very pretty.” Though he used the word
both,
I noticed that his eyes were focused on Penny.
    “Sure. I guess,” Jack said. The guy obviously had zero appreciation for clothing or style. He wore a purple-and-gold Vikings T-shirt, under which the collar of an orange-and-blue plaid short-sleeved shirt was visible. I hadn’t seen colors so misused since kindergarten. And short sleeves? It had to be in the forties. The work boots were OK, I supposed. And the jeans fit well, anyway. At least he wasn’t wearing a cap and I could actually see his blue eyes, which I noticed, in the firelight, had flecks of green. Luckily, his lack of enthusiasm hadn’t dampened Penny’s mood. She was still smiling winningly. So much, in fact, that I worried the volume of aerosol hair spray had frozen more than her flip.
    “So are you girls feeding the fire tonight?” Pedro asked.
    Penny quickly stuffed the scrap of blue paper into her jean pocket. “We’ll never tell.”
    “I’m not,” I said, realizing immediately that I’d not only cut Penny off but had contradicted her as well. “Just watching.” Jack gave me a long, hard look. You’d think I’d have been used to it by then, but somehow the guy still unnerved me. “I don’t believe in magic anyway,” I found myself saying. This from, of all people, a girl who had