by Anna Meriano
Leo looked at the posters, which showed the smiling but grainy faces of two women who both shared Mayor Rose’s wide smile. Unfortunately, those smiles had almost been covered by big permanent-marker block letters written on top of the posters. Rose Hill Needs Real Leaders read the first sign, and the second sign added The Past Is the Way to the Future. Whoever had written the messages—and Leo had a pretty good idea of who that was—had also drawn thick frowning eyebrows on one candidate and greedy dollar signs over the second one’s eyes.
“Oh no,” Leo said. “Where did this happen?”
“Just down the road,” Church Lady answered. “They were brought to my attention by a concerned citizen. Are you telling me this wasn’t your doing?”
“No!” Leo said. “I wouldn’t do that.”
Church Lady hummed skeptically. “And you don’t know anything about it?”
Leo hesitated for a second too long before she answered, “Uh, no?”
“I knew it!” Church Lady threw the posters to the ground with surprising force for such a small woman. “You’re an accomplice, probably going around with some hooligan friends, getting into trouble. Are you here to distract me so your friends can cause more property damage?”
“No!” Leo cringed away from the yelling. “I’m not here with any hooligans. I was just thinking that I did see some teenagers running around outside. Maybe they were the vandalismers.” Leo mentally apologized to teenagers everywhere, who probably had enough problems without getting blamed for things that were actually the fault of hundred-year-old ghosts.
Church Lady squinted at Leo. “Are you sure?” She asked. “Were they students at Rose Hill High? I should report this to the proper authorities.” She picked up the bulky old telephone on the desk.
“Wait!” Leo held up her hand. “Reporting” sounded like it could get people into trouble, and what if the proper authorities started searching and found Mayor Rose? She couldn’t let that happen. “Um, I don’t know if they were students. But I don’t think they meant any harm. They were probably just . . .” What was the word Mamá used when Marisol messed up? “Acting out. And school is out right now anyway. Plus, I don’t think it will happen again. Teenagers get bored easily. It’s probably better if you don’t make a big deal out of it.”
Church Lady tapped her nails against the desk, and Leo put on her widest and most convincing smile.
“Well, you might be right,” she finally sad. “No sense in letting them know they’ve riled me up. And I guess, in their own way, the vandals are engaging in the democratic process. I just wish they’d find a more constructive way to make their voices heard.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head.
Leo nodded. “That’s actually what I wanted to ask about,” she said. “I came here to learn more about the election for mayor. Like, when is it? Who are we voting for? Is it too late to enter the running? Is it true that there are some towns that have cats for mayors? I saw that on the internet.”
Church Lady’s very annoyed glare relaxed into a slightly annoyed smile. “Well, regardless of what the internet might tell you, young lady, our elections are a very serious matter, and vital to the health and security of our town. You wouldn’t want a cat deciding when to repave the roads or where your school band could hold a fund-raiser, would you?”
Leo shook her head.
“I should think not.” Church Lady tutted and shuffled through the box of papers at the front of her desk. “Now, if you want to get involved and learn more about the candidates, you should read these statements from each of them. Talk about the issues with your parents, and oh—” She dug deeper in her desk and produced a brightly colored pamphlet. “We have a youth summer program you can apply for. We are planning a field trip to the state capital in Austin, if we get enough interest. And don’t worry so much about the deadline on there; there are plenty of spots.” She glanced sadly down at the pamphlet before smiling as she held it out to Leo.
“Um, thanks.” Leo took the stack of papers.
“As for your other questions, the election is right around the corner.” Church Lady smiled and added another flyer to Leo’s pile. “So make sure to remind your family to vote!”
Leo nodded. The bright orange flyer in her hands listed the date of the election, only a few weeks away, along with all the official candidates for all the different positions. There was no way Mayor Rose could enter this late.
“Does that answer all your questions, dear?” Church Lady asked.
“I think so.” Leo sighed. She turned and speed-walked away from Church Lady, pausing in front of the bulletin board on her way out to notice that several flyers had also been vandalized with a Sharpie and now read Write in Rose for Mayor!
Leo snatched the flyers and waved at the church lady, who reminded Leo to say hi to Mamá. Leo skipped the ramp and hopped down the front steps three at a time.
“He was here, but he isn’t anymore,” she told Abuela. She shoved Church Lady’s pamphlets and the ruined flyers onto the dashboard. “It’s too late to run for office. He probably figured that out, and then he must have left.”
“Okay,” Abuela said. “But then where did he go?”
Leo held up her hands. “How should I know?” The snap in her voice came from fear, not anger, but she felt guilty when she saw Abuela frown at her. “I mean, I’m not sure,” she corrected herself. “I don’t have any ideas of where to look.”
Caroline’s phone chirped in her pocket, and she checked the screen before answering. “Tricia? Did you find them?”
“Sorry, Leo,” Tricia said. “The lady who lives in the purple house said that Mr. Pérez’s sister moved three years ago. And she said nobody else had knocked all day, and we didn’t see any marigold petals anywhere. Wherever he is, he didn’t come to the house.”
“Okay.” Leo bit her lip. “Did she say where she moved to? Maybe we can find her new address?”
“Nope, she moved to Wisconsin.”
Leo’s stomach fell like the city hall balloons with no helium left to keep them upright.
“What should we do?” Tricia asked.
Leo could only think of one answer. “Just forget it,” she whispered. “We aren’t finding them in the places we expected, and I don’t have a plan B. We should all probably go back . . .” Home, she wanted to finish the sentence, but she choked on the word.
“To Caroline’s house. Great. We’ll meet you there in twenty minutes.” Tricia hung up the phone before Leo could unstick her throat.
“What happened?” Abuela asked. “Your friends didn’t find Leti either?”
Leo shook her head. “Mr. Pérez can’t talk to his sister either, unless he’s going to fly to Wisconsin. So now we go back, I guess, and hope that Caroline or Isabel found something to save the day.” Leo clutched Caroline’s cell phone tightly, her stomach churning with frustration. “There wasn’t even any point in telling my friends our secret, I guess.” She looked up at Abuela, whose eyes looked soft and sorry for Leo. It made her feel even worse, because she was supposed to be saving Abuela from disintegration. This wasn’t about Leo. “Can you just drive us back?”
“Hmm.” Abuela pulled the van out of its parking spot, screeching the tires as she drove too fast in reverse. “Sorry, but no. That is not what we’re going to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“Leonora,” Abuela said as she turned onto Main Street, “I may not have much time left to teach you things, so I need you to listen to me. We are brujas cocineras. Our family solves problems. We do not give up. So you are going to call your friends back and tell them to meet us at the bakery, and we are going to figure this out. Okay?”
Leo turned away from Abuela’s determined grin and stared out the window. She couldn’t imagine how this problem could be solved, but she believed her grandmother. “Okay, I guess.”
Abuela nodded firmly, showering petals down the front of her sweater. She rolled through a stop sign, her laugh ringing loud as she sped down the str
eet. When Leo turned to look at her grandmother’s face, the thin lines at the corners of her eyes had shrunk and nearly disappeared.
“Hurry,” Leo said, more to herself than her fast-driving abuela. “We’re running out of time.”
CHAPTER 14
OJOS DE BUEY
She checked in with Caroline before calling Tricia back.
“I called my grandmother in Costa Rica,” Caroline said. “She didn’t want to talk about it so much, but my prima got on and told me about my great-uncle, who was the last brujo in our family.”
Since her family magic was all possessed by generations of women, Leo had almost forgotten that men could be brujos too. “So what did you learn about him?”
“It’s so cool, Leo! She told me all the history that I didn’t know anything about! My family were curanderos at first, helping their neighbors with their problems and healing their illnesses. And then when people had gotten so used to coming to my family for help . . . they started coming even after they died. And as they did, my ancestors developed some magical ability, so they could help put spirits to rest. That’s been our family gift for generations now. My great-uncle’s talent was for finding crossroads that were haunted by restless spirits. They wouldn’t be walking around like our spirits, totally pulled into the living world, but sometimes they would be stuck trying to cross, or they would be fighting to get themselves back on this side. He would help dispel them.”
“Okay.” Leo wasn’t sure she liked how close “dispel” was to “disintegrate,” but if Caroline didn’t sound worried, then she wasn’t going to bring it up. “So you kind of did the opposite of that with your accidental spell.”
“Your aunt thinks it’s good news,” Caroline explained, “because if I can bring them here, that may mean that I can send them back.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.” Leo nodded. “Oh! And Caroline, do you already know about everyone’s unfinished business? Abuela told me that all the spirits have some, so that makes perfect sense.”
“Yeah, I noticed that when they first started showing up,” Caroline said excitedly. Leo wasn’t surprised that her clever friend had figured out the pattern before she had. “It fits my family magic pattern, right? If we’re supposed to help ghosts find peace. And it explains why the spell didn’t work how I was hoping, and didn’t bring back—I mean, why these particular spirits were pulled through to our world.”
“Right,” Leo said. “Of course.”
“But it’s weird that there are so many,” Caroline said. “My prima said in Costa Rica there might be one restless spirit every five years or something. That’s why my grandma never bothered to learn the spells from her uncle. I know my spell helped them cross, but why are there so many restless spirits in Rose Hill?”
“I don’t know,” Leo said. “But now I want to find out.”
“Anyway, how’s it going on your end?”
“Oh, um, fine, I think.” Leo didn’t want to lie to Caroline, so she changed the subject. “Will you be ready to unravel the spell when we get them back to you?”
“I think we will!” Caroline said. “Except Isabel says it’s not strictly unraveling, because we were afraid that just undoing the effects of the spell would hurt the spirits without sending them to the right side of the veil. So she and your aunt found the basic outline for a portal spell—something to open a gate between different worlds. Your aunt isn’t very happy about it, because it’s not a very safe spell or something, but we’re going to modify that with some unraveling elements and do our best to make sure it gets our spirits back safely. We should be ready for a test”—Leo could hear Isabel’s voice in the background—“in about an hour.”
“Perfect,” Leo said, hoping Caroline couldn’t hear the concern in her voice. She didn’t know how they could round up the spirits in an hour, given the fact that they’d made zero progress. “I’ll let you get back to it. See you soon.”
“Sounded like an interesting conversation,” Abuela prompted after Leo sat for a minute too long staring at the phone in her lap without saying anything.
“Sorry, yes, it was.” Leo shook her head. “It’s good news, mostly. I’m just worried that Caroline will be ready before we’ve found anyone. But she found out about her family magic, and she has an idea about how to send you home!”
She checked the van’s clock while she filled Abuela in on the details of her conversation. It was past eleven, so the bakery would be hitting its busiest hour. Abuela popped on a pair of Mamá’s sunglasses as she navigated the parking lot to reach a free spot close to the back door. Leo updated Tricia and left a message for Brent, who didn’t answer his phone. “Meet us at the bakery. Change of plans. Hurry!”
“I have a theory,” Abuela said. “To answer your friend’s question.” She was staring out the window at the line of people entering and exiting the bakery.
“You do?” Leo asked. “Wait, which question?”
“Why so many spirits from Rose Hill were so quick to cross the veil.”
“Why?” Leo asked.
“I think it has to do with the bakery. With our family taking root here and weaving our magic into the community.”
“Wait, so it’s our fault there are so many unhappy spirits?” Leo asked, frowning.
“Not unhappy,” Abuela said. “Just . . . active. Many people here in town actually eat magic for breakfast. That’s got to rub off on you after a while.”
“Oh.” Leo looked out the window and imagined each person leaving the bakery with a paper bag full of magic. “That’s cool.”
“I think so.” Abuela smiled. “That’s why it’s important for you girls to help your mamá and learn about the bakery. I can’t imagine what the town would be without it.”
Abuela let her bun out—the white streaks had almost entirely disappeared from her shiny smooth curtain of hair—and they ducked into the kitchen like fugitive spies.
“What are you doing here?” Alma yelped when Leo opened the back door and almost collided with the hot tray her sister carried. “Leo’s back!” she called over her shoulder. “And . . . is this another spirit?”
Abuela laughed loud, pulled her hair back over her shoulder, and slid the glasses up to the top of her head. Alma yelped again.
“Abuela?” Belén appeared at her twin’s shoulder. “Is that you? You look like a movie star!”
“I feel tired,” Abuela grumbled over her smile. “Are you girls keeping busy?”
“Too busy,” Belén complained. “Mamá is either going to die of happiness or exhaustion with how many customers we’ve had today.”
“Mom?” Mamá said. She had two hands full of mixing bowls and a streak of flour across her cheek. “What are you doing back here?”
“Leo and I need to take over the office for a little while,” Abuela said, her hands reaching out to rub Mamá’s shoulders. “You’re okay out here, Maria Elena?”
Mamá closed her eyes and rolled her shoulders into Abuela’s touch. “Of course,” she said. She shoved aside a few dirty spoons to make room for her bowls on the counter and turned to give Abuela a proper hug. “It’s good to see you,” she said softly. “To really see you.”
“Oh, hush, no it isn’t.” Abuela patted Mamá’s back and laughed. “I don’t belong here, and you have plenty to do without me showing up and causing a fuss. Keep it up, mija. You’re doing good. I’ll be back where I belong before you know it.”
Mamá held on tight for another long breath, then released Abuela and wiped the now-wet flour off her cheek. “Okay. Good.”
“You just worry about keeping my bakery running,” Abuela said.
“Alma, Belén, the frosting?” Mamá ordered. The twins reluctantly returned to their stations, adding the finishing touches to another batch of rosca de reyes. Leo followed Abuela to the office and shut the door behind them.
“All right, Leonora.” Abuela stooped to pull a book off the office shelf. “Your tía and sister have the important job of testing out new mag
ics to deal with this very unusual problem. But in times of crisis, I like to go with something tried and trusted.” She let the heavy book slam onto Daddy’s desk, and Leo recognized the red leather cover of the family recipe book. A smile crept into the corners of her mouth.
“You think there’s a spell in there that can help?”
Abuela’s loud, short laugh was becoming familiar, settling into Leo’s brain like Señor Gato kneading the couch cushions into shape and curling up in them.
“I sure hope so, Leonora. If not, I’m in deep caca.”
Ojo de Buey Buscador: estos pasteles te ayudarán a ver claro, e iluminarán el camino para encontrar cosas perdidas.
The spell for finding lost things was as simple as lifting the couch cushions and finding your keys, but as tedious as searching every other room of the house before remembering to check the cushions. Mamá had the pastry dough ready-made, but Leo had to make the batter for the inner muffin—the mantecada—from scratch, sifting the flour three times, while adding a layer of magic by thinking of things so light and fluffy that they were nearly transparent. She added the sugar, butter, and other ingredients quickly, stirring “with urgency” so the spell would understand. She sniffed the orange essence before Abuela added it to the mixture, “while holding the lost object or objects in your mind.” And lastly, as she poured the batter into each circle of pastry dough, she added one eyelash to the top of each, and then blew it away. They made six ojos de buey, and Alma and Belén each contributed a few eyelashes so that Leo wouldn’t have to pull so many of her own.
The ojos de buey were in the oven when Tricia and Mai knocked on the back door. Leo showed them where to lock their bikes and ushered them into the office, making sure to stay between them and the ovens so nobody got burned.
“It looks so serious back here,” Mai whispered, dark eyes glued to the stainless steel of the oversized appliances. “It doesn’t look how I imagined it.”