Glitter glasses? As in…Nell?
I turned around in my seat to ask them about it, but as I did, I saw the aforementioned glitter glasses and the girl wearing them slip past the library’s window, glance back and forth, and then bolt for the side entrance of the school.
I was on my feet before I remembered standing, scooping all of my things into my backpack.
“Hey, isn’t that the kid…?” one of the guys started to say, but I was already leaving, keeping my head down. The librarian had her back to me as she reached up to replace one of the books on the shelf, and I took my chance to duck outside without her noticing.
“Where did she go?” I muttered, looking around. Nell wouldn’t leave class without a good reason, not unless something was happening.
As soon as the thought floated through my mind, I spotted her, running through the trees on the east side of campus, heading for the side street that ran alongside it.
What is the meaning of this, Maggot? Al demanded as I ran after her. Were you not told to remain here, in this place?
I wove through the trees, my backpack and hair catching the golden leaves as they fluttered down. The faint green magic of the boundary came into view. It stretched like a ribbon as I struggled to push through it. With a pop! it spat me out and I was running again, following the purple of Nell’s sweater like a star as she disappeared between two houses.
On the other side of them, just past the fencing of their backyards, was another small house, this one sitting between two empty maple-tree-filled lots. It looked Victorian, in contrast to the other homes’ sturdy colonial style, with stained glass in the two bay windows on the main floor. A sign hung from the porch: ESSEX BOOKSTORE & OTHER ESSENTIALS.
I was close enough to hear the bell ring as Nell pushed the screen door open and let it slam shut behind her.
Here there be magic, Alastor warned, sounding uneasy.
I crossed the street, keeping behind the old trees weeping their leaves onto the front lawn. A lone swing swayed in the breeze. I cut around it, getting as close to the nearest bay window as I could.
Inside, piles of teetering books filled every corner of the shop, some stacked as high as the ceiling. Shelves were neatly labeled with their contents, and through the green coating of the glass pane, I made out an old-fashioned cash register and a neat pile of bags waiting to be filled with purchases. Behind them was a wall with a wood carving of the shop’s logo, a few framed newspaper articles, and a photograph of Nell grinning between two women. One had dark skin like her, her warm, wide smile and the tilt of her eyes nearly identical—clearly, Nell’s mom. Her hair was braided into a crown around her head and woven with flowers.
The other woman in the picture walked into the room, coming down the spiral staircase behind a grim-faced Nell. Unusually tall, she had long blond hair that poured down around her shoulders like moonlight. Her clothing was loose and silky, weighed down by the heavy silver necklace and earrings she wore.
“Nellie, please—”
Nell kept her back to the woman, stuffing her backpack with a white paper bag and a book.
“At least tell me everything in that house is okay,” the woman continued. “Are you happy?”
Nell, finally, looked at her and said coldly, “What do you think?”
The woman tried to tuck Nell into a hug, but the girl pushed her back. “Thanks for the herbs.”
“Come live with me here,” the woman said, following her again to the door. “I don’t care what your father says, what anyone says—”
“Like the way you fought to keep me before?” Nell shoved the door open, but turned back at the last moment, facing her. “The way you fought to save Mom?”
“You don’t mean that,” the woman said as they stepped out onto the porch. “Come back inside for a moment, we’ll—”
I took one step toward them, meaning to make my presence known. But almost as soon as my sneaker sank into the wet earth and leaves, a nearby rosebush lashed out a thorny vine, snapping it around my ankle and violently jerking me back. I felt myself soar through the air, only to land with a cold, wet splat in the nearby little pond. A hurricane of tiny green frogs suddenly emerged from the muddy banks, their glossy eyes turned toward me.
“No—no! Missy, that’s him! That’s Prosper!”
Nell rushed up, dragging me away from the frogs and whatever else was in the water, slapping the thorny vines that were stroking the edges of the murky water, daring me to try to rush toward the house again. A short distance away, my book bag had split open, spewing everything—papers, notebooks, pencils—onto the ground.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. My ears rang like I’d been clubbed on either side of the head. A lone frog clung to the back of my hand. I felt my good arm start to prickle again.
Tiny, little, delicious, juicy frog legs—
“No!” I said, slamming my left hand down on my right to keep it in place.
“What are you doing here?” Nell demanded. “Why did you follow me? I told you to stay in the library!”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” I said.
“A fiend,” Missy said coldly from behind us. “Checking up on a witch?”
Her unusual violet eyes flashed in warning as I looked up at her. They only softened when she saw that the hem of my jeans had been yanked up during the tussle and a crisscross of angry cuts ringed my ankle.
“Come inside, I’ll clean those for you,” she said finally. “Come in, come in, and let our work begin.”
The barrier, including the vines, shrank back. The line of airy green magic I’d missed yet again fell to my feet, allowing me to step over it.
Nell said nothing as we entered the warm, cozy shop. She barely seemed to be breathing as Missy led me upstairs, to the second floor. There, behind the door at the top of the steps, was a room filled with light.
It was the opposite of the attic in every way. Bookshelves lined every side of the room, each painted a pristine, welcoming cream. The window was large, catching the golden afternoon light through the thinning tree branches. While there were plenty of books up here for purchase, most of the shelves contained bottles in neat rows, or had sachets of sweet-smelling herbs. Here and there, there were copper cauldrons, but they were filled with some of the same black soap I’d used that morning at the House of Seven Terrors, or tiny vials of green liquid for “Aches & Pains of the Heart.”
So. This was the “& other essentials” part of the store.
Nell stood with her back to the door, keeping me locked in, or someone or something else out.
“Have a seat, Mr. Redding,” Missy said, gesturing to a hand-carved stool.
“You know who I am?” I asked, but did as I was told. Missy was gentle as she rolled my jeans up away from my shoes and began to apply a peppermint-scented ointment.
“I know of you, yes,” Missy said, with a look back over her shoulder to Nell. “As a witch, I can see through the glamour Nell placed on you.”