Nestled in the Chicago suburbs rested the small, one school town of LaginaWood. A sleepy little city where teenagers drink, date, party, and hopefully study. Where citizens hail the Cubs without much reason, high school football is practically a rel...
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Cate
"Zalisma!" I pointed my finger and the ferret collapsed, falling onto his back. His little white feet stretched to my bedroom ceiling. That's what he got for sneaking into my bed. As I returned my attention to Jay Gatsby, a grey head poked out of the blankets. "At least my magic works on you, huh, Merlin?"
Some people taught their dog to play dead in response to a mock gunshot. I taught my ferret to act stunned in response to ancient spells once used to vanquish hordes of Terata.
Merlin scrambled up my chest, tiny claws scratching as he reached my neck.
"Okay, okay! Ow! I'll get you your treat. And remind me to trim your nails this weekend." I spotted Merlin's bag of yogurt snacks across the room. Setting Gatsby down, I picked up the grimoire always at my side. Before, I wouldn't need the book for such a simple spell. Now, I flipped to the specific page and placed my pointer finger on the word. "Kalo!"
Nothing. Well, not nothing. Merlin pulled himself even closer, gifting me with a mouth full of ferret tail. But the bag of treats remained firmly in place.
So far I'd fallen... Could this human body be incapable of magic, or did I just have to start over? I didn't even remember how I'd learned magic in the first place, I'd just known it. Any time I needed a spell, the word would come to me. It would do exactly what I needed and I'd write it in my grimoire for safekeeping. And now, I had the words, but the magic didn't come.
I set Merlin on my pillow, planting a kiss on his little head as I slid off my mattress. The little dork wouldn't leave me alone until I got him his snack. I picked up a yogurt treat. At about a foot away, I tossed the morsel to Merlin, who rose up on his tiny back feet to catch it.
"Good boy!" After the treat had disappeared, I crawled back into my bed, tickling Merlin's belly. The ferret flopped onto his back, wriggling and kicking at my hand. I stayed there, grimoire and Gatsby forgotten, roughhousing with Merlin, my best friend in about decade and a half of human life, and probably in an eternity.
My phone rang, Hedwig's Theme blasting through my room. I didn't expect more than a telemarketer or scam call. 'Call quick! We've detected a suspicious purchase on your credit card!' I'm sixteen, I don't have a credit card. No one I actually knew called unless something was wrong, they just sent a text. But instead of an unknown caller, Dad's face grinned up at me. Uh oh. Something must have been wrong.
I juggled my phone, trying not to drop it before I answered. "Hey. Everything okay?"
"Why wouldn't it be?" Dad asked.
"I don't know. Three weeks after you moved to Mizzou you decide to call instead of text like always. People don't usually call unless it's important."
He laughed. "I don't know what you millennials have against actual conversation, but in my world, your daughter's first day of public school is an important enough reason to actually talk."
