The tension might have been untraceable if magic didn't exist, but for both girls it spat like an overheated cauldron. There was even a bit of smolder.
Agatha coughed.
Blythe pinched the tip of her nose. "What in the world is that smell?"
"It smells like someone's hair is burning," said Tilda, sneering at Cora's twist-out.
Cora sneered harder, her lips curling. She sorted through her list of appropriate comebacks, but none of them were awful enough to suit Tilda Gray.
"I've always hated that smell," said Blythe, her nose still pinched. "It gives me flashbacks of high school."
Stella waved her gloved hand, shooing the cloud away. Blythe and Agatha exchanged weary glances, though both were too stuck in their ways to say much to each other.
Cora let her anger simmer enough to dull the stench, but kept her gaze pinned on Tilda, her thumb and pointer finger pressed together, in case Tilda snapped.
I should give her a chance to apologize. For her sake of course.
Cora eased her demeanor.
Tilda grinned victoriously, displaying her haughtiness in one swift lift of her threaded brows. She straightened her back in Cora's face as the line teetered along.
It was akin to giving her the hand.
Forget her. We'll never be friends.
She couldn't risk a fight with her mother watching. Stella would never allow it, not over the blood of the first wicked sorceress. Overpowered for now, Cora slipped out of the line, away from her mother's curious gaze, edging into a rack of men's outerwear for privacy.
She sent Eva a text.
Mayday. I'm at the mall. Care for a salted pretzel?
Eva replied right away. Make mine sweet and we have a deal.
Cora texted a smiling emoji, her mood too sour to muster a real grin.
And please, Eva, make it snappy.
The day Tilda Gray apologized for anything would be the day she rode on a broom, grew chin hair, and mixed a bubbling, green cauldron. It would be the day Cora ruined a life for real.
Agatha, Blythe, and Stella moved up in line. They'd be out of each other's way in no time. Eva might even catch a glimpse of Tildaâthe girl with green skinâif she got here soon. Tilda had to be jealous. Why else would she attack her blog?
Her gaze roamed from the top of Tilda's willowy five-nine frame, down her curve free back and mile long legs, to the heels of her ballet flats.
Jealous of me? Yeah, right.
Cora bit the tip of her tongue. "The stories are true," she would tell Eva anyway, "monsters are real."
Before Tilda could even think of a retort, she'd grab Eva's arm giggling all the way to the pretzel stand. Cora loved the cruelty of her own imagination sometimes, seeing the humiliation on Tilda's face might give her the boost of confidence she needed.
She glanced at the time on her phone, nearly twelve-thirty. Eva wouldn't arrive until later, and Cora couldn't summon her here either. It would raise too many questions. Eva might go mad with confusion. She would become a fanatic, her personality would disappear, swapped with someone who'd witnessed real magic and didn't know what to make of it. For the love of crows, it might even go against the number one rule of magic: A sorceress must not charm the human heart or mind.
Both by the law of magic, and her lack of skill, she'd have to wait.
Not to mention, Stella Emerson's yelling would be heard by even the dearly departed Elizabeth Emerson, the first wicked Emerson sorceress.
"Cora, hurry it up. Unless you want to stand there all day." Stella waved for her to bustle.
"Coming." She shoved her phone into her pocket, hastening through the department store's Sunday crowd after her mother. Stella exchanged recipes with Blythe for next Friday night's menu all the way to the exit when it was Agatha who did most of their cooking. Unconcerned, Agatha hummed along to the Christmas music, not caring to contribute.
"And no beets," Blythe said, tapping Stella's shoulder.
"No beets it is," said Stella.
Blythe linked their arms, swinging her white shopping bags in the other. "And you'll remember that Tilda hates tofu.
"Remembered." Even while lugging the mini refrigerator, Stella kept her tone light.
They stepped into the lobby, gathering away from the store's front entrance where they could exchange the last bits if pleasantries before heading home. It was politer after all to not run away screaming as fast as possible from the Grays.
How could have the late Elizabeth Emerson ever stand being friends with that Blessie Gray? How could her mother stand it? After all, Blessie was the reason for the Emersons misery. If her dearly departed ancestor Elizabeth hadn't listened to the lying Blessie, Cora wouldn't have had to ruin anyone. Her senior year would be more tolerable.
"Mom, is it okay if I stay behind to hang out with Eva?" She maneuvered around Blythe's lofty physique to get to her mother.
Stella Emerson chortled. "I have to see Ted again sometime so I can hear one of his stories in person." She clutched her chest. "That William seems like a terror to work with. Oh, my." Stella giggled and wiped her dry eyes. "I wonder how Ted puts up with him."
Blythe squeezed her shoulder. "I've been telling him to start his own firm for years. But William's his dearest friend. They've known each other since college."
"Right," Stella agreed.
"Mom," Cora said louder, dodging Blythe's heavy leather purse as she tugged it onto her shoulder.
Stella ignored her yet again, opting instead for another giggle. "Are you sure he doesn't want to come? I promise we'll be on our best behavior."
Yeah, right.
"He's been so tired from work lately," said Blythe.
Cora's gaze roamed to her grandmother a few feet away. Agatha, who was much less preoccupied with kissing Blythe's manicured feet, than she was admiring the items in the catalogue, would lend a better ear.
At least she doesn't pretend.
Cora trudged her way. If she could leave now to wait for Eva, she wouldn't have to endure her mother's feigned giggle-snorts any longer. Stella always put on a façade for the Grays, as if they were better than them.
Even Teddy Gray might disagree on his beloved wife's allurement.
Cora threw right back the dirty gleam she got from Tilda and sat on her grandma's right, holding tight to her seat, as if it might launch her into space at any moment.
"Why is she like this?" she asked.
A young boy toddling beside his parents winced, startled by Stella's high-pitched squeal. Cora bent her head back and blew a coiled strand off her lips.
"Tell me about it," said Agatha. flipping another page of the catalogue, her gaze narrowed at Stella. "We can't be too hard on her," she said. "Blythe is the only real friend Stella has. She's never been close with anyone else except your father."
Please don't remind me of him.
The memory struck as soon as Agatha mentioned him. The night her father left was the first time she'd realized her parents weren't perfect after all. Cora shut her eyes, hoping to get a clearer image of her father's face. She remembered in small details how handsome he was. Twelve years was too much distance between them to see him for sure. He hadn't called. He had never even sent any postcards, not even a birthday present. For all she knew, he might be dead. She twirled the loose button on her coat.
"They were really close, weren't they?"
"Your mother has known Blythe since grade school." Agatha returned to the catalogue, shaking it out to see better a page full of diamond rings.
"No. I meant Mom and Dad."
Cora twirled the button faster until it came loose in her hand. She squeezed her fist around it, her gaze set on the view through a store's window, not even noticing all the commotion happening around her. Not even the curious gaze of a little girl swayed her desperate pining for Agatha's next few words.
"They were best friends."
"Oh."
"Mm-hmm. That's how life goes sometimes."
Cora caught the implication in her grandmother's tone. Agatha, if she'd even noticed her granddaughter's anxiousness, didn't let on.
"Ten percent off on children's coats. That's a rip-off." She laughed. She'd forgotten her glasses at home and held the catalogue an inch from her nose.
Cora shook the stars out of her vision. Maybe all these years she'd been too good at pretending she didn't care about her father.
I have more important things to worry about anyway.
Stella and Blythe kissed each other's cheeks. "I'll be sure to call if anything changes," said Blythe, swiping her fingers across the cheek Stella had kissed. "Tilly, say goodbye to Cora until next Friday." Blythe didn't look to see if Tilda had said a word to Cora, still too preoccupied with saying her own goodbyes.
Cora couldn't care less. She leaned over, lifting her toes off the ground. Her boots were a bit scuffed. A pretzel and a bit of window shopping with Eva would straighten this crooked day. She hadn't forgotten that a certain freckled someone worked at the mall. The window shopping was only a cover-up for her real reason for wanting to stay behind, snooping on Beau Campbell.
At some point, while making circles around the mall with Eva, they'd stop by the shop and have a look around until he noticed them. It would be completely innocent. She'd have to catch him before his lunch break. Time was marching forward, and she was in too deep now to give in to her nagging fears that she'd never get close enough to do what needed to be done.
"Are you ladies ready to go?" Stella Emerson radiated giddiness from her fifteen-minute conversation with Blythe Gray.
Cora reconsidered rolling her eyes because of what Agatha had shared. True friends were hard to come by these days. Thank the all-powerful father for Eva.
"No, Stella," said Agatha, not caring as much, "we haven't been waiting here for you this whole time."
"Well." Stella put down the mini fridge to answer her buzzing phone. "It's your sister," she said to Cora, squinting at the screen. "Yes, my child." She clucked her tongue. "Willow, I'm not stopping to buy anything to eat. We asked you if you wanted to come. Make something at home," she said, as she grabbed the bag and marched for the elevator, expecting Cora and Agatha to follow.
Cora followed until her mother hung up, stopping beside her to read Eva's latest text. "I'll meet you guys at home. Eva's meeting me here."
"Are you sure?" Stella readjusted the mini fridge into her other hand. She hadn't broken a sweat dragging it through the mall.
"I'm sure." Eva had texted she was ten minutes away.
"Okay," said Stella, her hand poised on the door. "Be home before eight. You have school tomorrow."
"I will be."
Stella led Agatha into the stairwell that would carry them to the parking lot, leaving Cora to reassess her plan for surprising Beau.