Wicked Ways to Ruin a Boy

11 | The Not-quite Date Pt. 1

Her phone sat on the counter behind her. She'd checked it at the end of every hour. Still nothing. She'd have a heck of a time convincing Beau to see her if he wasn't interested. Lying to ease her suspicion wouldn't help. Boys always knew what they wanted.

Beau didn't want her.

She whipped the bowl of non-edible fluff with extra ferocity. Why couldn't he call already? Who'd decided that humans shouldn't be controlled? Sparks flew from Cora's bowl, popping like firecrackers. To charm the human heart or mind could do permanent damage. Cora hadn't forgotten her lessons, but it was still a stupid law. Wasn't that the point of being wicked?

Her grandmother flinched when her bowl hissed. "There's no need to mix so fast, dear."

A change of tactics would do. She slowed her mixing. She had no time left to dawdle and had no one to blame but herself for it. Once again, procrastination, the two-headed snake, had bitten her hard. She refused to let the hurt show. Losing her magic would be more severe.

Another hour went. Cora, her mother, and grandmother made the products, while Willow concentrated on creating and printing their holiday labels on the family computer. On the counter in front of Cora were over a dozen or so jars of their most beloved product, Cocoa Coconut Face Cream. It smelled like milk chocolate.

Her arms ached, but she gathered as many products as she could and took them to the fridge. "It's all full," she said to her mother who whipped a bowl of fluffy brown cream as if it would get away from her.

Stella stopped mixing, wiped her hands on her apron, and came around the center island to inspect the fridge. The two bottom shelves where they stored their products were full.

Stella took down a jug of milk and sniffed it. "We'll have to toss some things." She sent the milk sliding across the counter.

"As long as we don't starve," Agatha said.

Cora put the jars in her arms down to help her mother toss what was old and spoiled in their fridge. When they were finished, they'd cleared out half a shelf and most of the vegetable bin. They still didn't have enough space.

Stella sighed. Her wine glass would be twice as big tonight. It had been a long day. "We'll have to store them in the freezer for now."

One by one, Cora stacked what she'd mixed in the freezer next to the cookie dough ice cream. She closed the door once finished. "I'm going outside," she said. "I need some air."

Both Stella and Agatha stopped mixing. They exchanged the briefest of glances. In all her seventeen years, Cora had never "needed some air." She kept to her bedroom like she meant to die in it. Agatha joked that Mariam and Cora couldn't be more opposite. Speaking of Mariam, no one had seen her yet that day. She might not have come home last night.

"Is everything okay?" Stella scanned her daughter for signs of damage, her mixing spoon poised in her hand like a chocolate ice cream cone. A big dollop of the Cocoa Coconut Face Cream dripped from it into the bowl, some trickled over the edge onto the counter.

"I'm fine." She untied her apron. "But it's stifling in here." Not one of the Emerson's liked it below seventy degrees in the house. She flung her apron onto a chair on her way out, her mother and grandmother staring after her.

"It must be that boy," Agatha said.

"It usually is," said Stella.

No boys at her school had ever asked her out, which meant she had zero experience with the male sex. The exchange between Stella and Agatha had more to do with the fact that this boy was indeed the one. She unlocked the front door, pausing halfway out at the sound of said boy's voice. "Don't hide from him," she said, gathering her valor. "Besides, you lived here first."