Seriously Shifted

by Tina Connolly

  “I don’t have to make Sparkle give you the amnesia spell, too, do I?” I said. “You won’t tell anyone about any of this?”

  “I swear,” said Henny. “By the time I’ve changed it over to Captain Awesome and Amazing Punk Girl Save the Day from a Radioactive Inchworm Gone Haywire! you totally won’t recognize it.”

  “Ahem?”

  “With a little help from their good friend, ScienceGrrl?” said Henny.

  “That sounds just right,” I said.

  “I have to go find my tablet before I forget any of my ideas,” said Henny. “I’ll see you Monday.”

  She ran the opposite way from the disgusting lindworm trail and then it was just me and Jenah.

  “Thank you,” I said. “For saving the day.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said. “You’ll have to thank your mom, too. When I came back to apologize, she was just groggily sitting up. Trying to untangle the magic vines.”

  “Was she…?”

  “Yeah. She’s okay. She gave me your backpack and pointed me in the right direction. So she did help.”

  “But you thought of the invisible eels.”

  “I also thought about drinking them,” she said, “but I didn’t think it would help you if I was puking all over the floor.”

  “You were perfect and brave,” I said.

  “You know what? I kind of liked this week. Bandages and all.”

  “Don’t get too used to it,” I said. “I’d like things to go back to normal right about now. Normal is easy.”

  “It isn’t, really,” said Jenah. “Because it was never true. This is true, you know.”

  “Speaking of true,” I said. “First thing Monday morning I will tell your history teacher the truth about the grades. What’s the worst he can do to me? Cut out my heart?”

  Jenah sighed. “I know you were just trying to help,” she said. “I overreacted.”

  “No, you were right to be mad at me. I was messing around with your life.”

  “What kind of person complains that their best friend tried to give them a B? Especially when they thought they were just trying to fix the thing the witch did that wasn’t the thing they thought it was but was something else…” Jenah laughed. “Oh, honestly, the only thing that could make this more confusing is time travel.”

  “Don’t tempt fate,” I said. “I don’t want to hear that the witches have a time machine next.”

  “If they did I guess I’d have to go back and try to get a better grade,” she said. “Of all the boring uses for a time machine.”

  “Finals are coming,” I said. “I’ll make everything up to you by helping you study.”

  “You’re in the video-watching American history class,” she said. “You don’t know any more about the Civil War than I do, do you?”

  I shrugged. “No, but I do know how to make flash cards,” I said. “And I know how to sit down with you at your kitchen table and stop you from sewing a new skirt or watching clips from Broadway musicals on your phone. I can make you work.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Jenah said. “You’re going to make it up to me for almost ruining my life by making me study?”

  “I’m going to make up for giving you a passing grade by making you earn it,” I said.

  Jenah squeezed my hand. “I can always count on you,” she said. “And you can always count on me. I shouldn’t have yelled that thing about friendships breaking because it isn’t true, so you have to forgive me for that one. When you and I make mistakes we can fix them.”

  I dashed tears out of my eyes. “Yes,” I agreed.

  The Nice Little Epilogue

  It was a glorious Saturday afternoon, the last gasp of good weather until spring. Sarmine and I biked up to the park and spread out a picnic blanket. The winning band was playing a concert in the park, and people were out in full force, biking or strolling around the park. From up here I could see loads more bikes all over town. Like it or not, it was clear that Sarmine had made a difference. Families were smiling as they spread out their picnic blankets; bikes and cargo bikes littered the hill. We could see everything.

  Including our RV garage down in the valley. It was belching a surprising amount of pink smoke. “So I’m, um, surprised you didn’t work the Kill the Cars spell anyway,” I said, feeling her out. “After the bet was over and your promise to me was over. I know you were out late last night on the football field retrieving shed lindworm scales.”

  The witch wrinkled her nose. “I tried,” she said. “But something was off with the mixture.” She took a sharp glance at me. “You did stir it every day as requested, yes? One hundred turns counterclockwise, no more or less?”

  “Scout’s honor,” I said.

  “Hmm,” she said. “It almost seemed as if something was added to the spell that negated it.” She looked out across the distance. “I would be quite impressed if someone in my own household had figured out how to double-cross me by negating my spell.”

  Er. What had I done to that potion? I thought back to that first day, when I had gotten all misty-eyed about the dragon. Hmm. I would have to look up in Sarmine’s books and see if “tears of a witch” had any known properties. Really, someone should compile all the known substances into one clear, accurate textbook. Not that any witch would ever do that … I came back from my reverie to remember what her last statement was. “Er, yes,” I said. “That would indeed be very impressive. That person might be well on her way to becoming a True Witch.”

  Hastily I switched the subject. Might as well leave her thinking I was cleverer and craftier than I actually was.

  “So Sparkle wiped this week’s memories out of Valda and Esmerelda,” I said. “But you know there are loads more witches out there. And a secret’s not safe forever.”

  Sarmine nodded. She seemed to be admiring her pink smoke.

  “So you won’t help Leo?” I said. “You know a spell to hide him and you flat-out won’t do it?”

  Sarmine leveled her brows at me. “There is a spell to hide someone permanently from witches,” she said. “Used as a last resort—because, for example—you would never be able to interact with him again. He would simply slide past your notice.”

  I didn’t like that idea. Sparkle wouldn’t, either. But for Leo I’d do it. “Well, what are you waiting for? Prove you’re not the most horrible person in the whole world,” I said.

  “The spell uses a substance found only in the stomach lining of dolphin babies,” she said.

  “Good god, what?”

  She shrugged. “So please, Camellia. Go ahead and work this spell anytime you wish.”

  I rocked back on my heels. I could see that Sparkle and I were going to be protecting Leo for a long time.

  “I need to start doing more research,” I said. “There have to be vegetarian substitutes out there that can do what these animal parts do.” Isolate the compounds that caused something to levitate, for example … could spells possibly be reduced to chemistry? Just because the unicorn hair/green tea compound hadn’t worked the first time as a substitute for powdered pixie bone, didn’t mean there weren’t more things to be tried. I mean, look at the way my small variations to the Power spell had caused it to work better and better each time. There was more research to be read in the witch’s library, and in other witch libraries around the world.

  Really, when you came right down to it, witchcraft and ethics weren’t all that dissimilar. There was never just one right answer. And you didn’t give up just because one time you made something explode.

  I leaned back on my elbows. I guess it was time to forgive the witch … for now. After all, she’d kept her promise, and hadn’t destroyed her student’s life, as much as she wanted to. And if she hadn’t stepped in to rescue Leo … there was also the point that she hadn’t murdered any little dolphin babies to do it. Some days the best thing you can say about your mom is that she hasn’t murdered any little dolphin babies recently.

  And that’s all right.


  We lay back on the hill and watched the city full of bikes. I saw Henny and Jenah pedaling side by side—Henny appeared to have a big folding easel strapped to her back. Farther down—Leo, back in human form and without his fancy car, balancing a laughing Sparkle on his handlebars.

  A cargo bike separated itself from the pack and began winding back and forth up the zigzagging path toward us.

  Devon.

  He slung his leg over his bike and came up to me. “Cam,” he said, “I owe you an apology.”

  I glanced over at the witch. She stared at me for a moment. Then she rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she said, and stalked off to go wreak havoc elsewhere in the park.

  Devon sat down next to me on the blanket. The band playing in the distance sounded like a good group. If not for me, it could have been his band up there.

  “No, I owe you an apology,” I said. “I could have given you Showstopper after Malkin made you forget all your lyrics but I chose not to. And then I know it seems like I flip-flopped immediately to give it to Leo, but…”

  “You made the right call,” he said. “Both times.”

  “How did it…?” I trailed off. I mean, obviously it had been a disaster.

  He snorted. “The band found me babbling ‘cool stick of butter’ so they stuck me in the back, handed me a triangle, and told me to look pretty. Then Nnenna sang all the songs from a mic at the drum set. She was amazing, frankly. We might end up making it a permanent change.” I could hear the tinge of regret at his own failure behind the genuine happiness for Nnenna. “We only didn’t win because when she went up on the lyrics, she swore a blue streak into the mic. Parents didn’t like it but gig requests started rolling in.”

  I was glad something good had come out of that performance, even if it wasn’t quite what he or I wanted.

  Devon brushed at the dirt on his knees. “But look, that’s not it. I wanted to say I’m sorry for being weird this week. I’ve still been trying to figure out who I am post-demon. And deal with the fact that I am definitely not as cool as he was.”

  “I think you’re plenty cool,” I said firmly.

  He laughed. “Well, you might be the only one. And then I kept seeing you with Leo, and it’s not that I was jealous exactly—” He broke off. “Okay, maybe I was.”

  “That’s okay,” I jumped in. Don’t lie, and don’t be a weasel. “I mean, I was even jealous of Nnenna for part of the week, so…”

  “Nnenna? She likes girls.”

  “Oh. Oh!”

  “It’s okay,” he assured me. “I’m frequently jealous of her myself. At any rate, it wasn’t you. It was me feeling … not up to standards. I know you were just helping Leo with the shifting, and so what? Even if you weren’t, you have the right to live your own life. It was just me trying to deal with not being as cool as I think I should be. To, uh. To deserve you.”

  “That is the first time anyone ever said they should be cool to deserve me,” I said.

  He looked at me like I was bonkers. “Cam, you rescued a football hero from a pack of witches. You have a flying bike. You are the coolest girl I know.”

  I sighed happily. I was going to have to readjust my internal expectations to the idea of being cool. I mean, not that anyone else in my life was going to think I was cool. But Devon thought I was cool. That was enough.

  Besides, not only was I cool, I told myself, I had gumption.

  “This is weird,” I said. “But you remember back when you had that demon in you a couple weeks ago, and you kept trying to kiss me? And I obviously couldn’t let you because it was an evil plot?”

  “Would you like me to pretend there’s another evil plot?”

  I wriggled closer. “Demonic plots seem a lot simpler than everything that’s happened this week.”

  He wrapped both arms around me. I felt safe and protected, and I have to admit it was kind of a nice change, because lately I had been the one protecting everybody. That’s all right. Everyone should get a chance to pretend that they’re the big strong one. I looked up into Devon’s sweet, kind face.

  “Kiss me,” I said.

  He obeyed, and I will now direct your attention to the beautiful autumn morning going on behind us, at least for a few minutes. It was leaf-filled and lovely, and after a few minutes he took a breath and said, “Cam?”

  “Yes?” I said.

  “I just have one question.”

  “Is it whether you need to stop? Because you don’t need to stop.”

  “Is life at your high school always going to be this exciting?”

  “Perhaps,” I said. “Perhaps.”

  Appendix

  SPELLS

  * * *

  A Mystikal Spelle of Great Power

  • If the day of the week begins with S, find some slugs.

  • If the day of the week begins with Y, find some yak fur.

  • If the day of the week begins with W, find some walrus tusks.

  • If the day of the week begins with T, find some thyme.

  • If the day of the week begins with M, find some monkey brains.

  Let the DAY = X. For ye olde occasions when X doth equal S, carefully extract the intestines of one slug and combine with blackest coffee. For all occasions of X, use thou a pinch of ginger. For all the many occasions when X doth equal Y, the clumps of fur needed shall be equal to the number of letters in the day that begins with M. Let the YEAR = Q. For ye verie interesting occasions when X doth equal W, extract both tusks by hand, and shave twelve tablespoons of Ivorie under a bright sun. For all occasions of X where X equals X, use one of thine own hairs. If X doth perchance equal T, combine you then one dragon’s tear and one pinch of thyme. If X should equal M, depart to yon nearest zoo and returneth bearing your prize.

  Mix all necessary ingredients and breathe in, imagining yourself a full ten feet tall, clad in the trappings of power. Exult in the superior might that you have shown. Disregard all those who said you couldst not do it! You totally could. You are a Moderne Witch, the Equal of Anything! You got this.

  * * *

  A Lovelie Spell to Open You to Possibilities

  Ingredients

  dark chocolate

  rubies of the cave nymph

  candied violets

  pomegranate juice

  caramel

  tears of the lake dryad

  pixie dew

  syrup

  hazelnuts

  dew of the bayou orchids

  rose petals

  spearmint grown by a bogwitch

  Preparation

  This recipe is so lovely, isn’t it? I love all these things. I can hardly tell you which to choose. Perhaps it should be three leaves of a bogwitch’s spearmint, grown in the sun-soaked terraces of Sicily, plus a quarter cup of finest caramel, made by a local pastry chef whom you have fallen madly for. Or perhaps start with a bouquet of violets, candied on a misty night by the light of a single beeswax candle … [spell continues for three pages] … but in the end, I think the classics are usually the best. Combine one tablespoon syrup, one drop pomegranate juice, one finely ground rose petal, and one drop pixie dew. Stir and serve to one who would be entranced by an opening of possibility.

  * * *

  Invisibility Spell

  Ingredient: Invisible eels

  Usage: Ingested or as ointment

  Taste: Disgusting

  * * *

  Showstopper Spell

  Ingredients

  one bright idea

  one pinch powdered rutabaga

  one pinch parsley

  one carton eggs

  one cup of dirt

  one pinch powdered pixie bone

  one martini

  one stack of playing cards

  one bag of oats

  one drop witch spit

  one lucky star

  another martini

  one folding chair

  another martini

  Preparation

  1. Deal out the playing cards.
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  2. Combine the dirt and the oats.

  3. Play a round of solitaire.

  4. Throw out the oats-dirt mixture—what were you thinking?

  5. Cook up the carton of eggs.

  6. Have a martini.

  7. Have another.

  8. This is way too many eggs.

  9. Have a third martini.

  10. Wish on a lucky star.

  11. Disregard all previous steps. I mean, they made for an interesting evening, but it won’t get you the effect you want. (A dozen eggs? Really?)

  12. How to get unstoppable charisma:

  13. Combine the parsley, rutabaga, and pixie bone.

  14. Spit in it.

  15. Give it to the would-be superstar of your choice.

  16. Relax in your folding chair and watch in fascination.

  * * *

  Good Witch Ethics—FINAL LIST!!!

  1. Don’t use animal parts in spells, unless it’s to save a life.

  2. Ask people before you work a spell on them (or for them), unless in self-defense.

  3. Don’t lie to friends.

  4. Don’t be a weasel.

  5. If you fall, you get back up and try again.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I like getting a chance to thank people. In this case, we’ll start with Meghan Sinoff, Tinatsu Wallace, and Caroline M. Yoachim, for talking me down from ledges during all the first drafts that I kept trying and throwing away. Next, to Kij Johnson and everyone (everyone!) at the KU CSSF Repeat Offenders workshop, where I finally got on the right course and wrote the first draft (the real one this time!) in one burst of lightning. (A particular thanks to Dominick D’Aunno for pacing me—outpacing me—as we raced to complete our drafts.) After much revising, I can then give more thanks to Caroline again, Brian Allard, Kirsten Lincoln, and my dad, for reading final-er and final-er drafts.

  The production of a novel is a team effort. Thanks go to the ever-sharp Ginger Clark and the team at Curtis Brown, the fabulous Melissa Frain and the fantastic Desirae Friesen at Tor, Amy Stapp for her able assistance, NaNá V. Stoelzle for copyedits, Emma Goulder for yet another amazing cover image, and everyone else at Tor/Tor Teen for your help and support. Many thanks also to the Tor.com team, including Chris Buzelli and Irene Gallo, for the gorgeous artwork for my Tor.com prequel story to this series (It’s called “That Seriously Obnoxious Time I Was Stuck at Witch Rimelda’s One Hundredth Birthday Party,” it involves Cam battling some inflatable kraken, and you should check it out if you haven’t).