Cassidy Hearn had wisely asked for time to think. After spending two weeks furiously texting and emailing with an intersex support group, Katy’s mama told them she and her daughter weren’t interested in their hamburger pickles, thank you kindly. The evidence was clear: Her daughter was fine as is. The Hearns went home, baked a pound cake, and marathoned I Love Lucy reruns. After that, they’d been preoccupied with Caleb’s hearing specialists and his adorable kindergartner charm. Katybird had continued to be the same old Katybird.
Except she wasn’t the same, not really, at least not in her family’s eyes. There was a question now. Katybird was a girl, obviously, but words like “internal gonads,” “testes,” and “Y chromosome” seemed to muddy the creek in their minds, as far as magic was concerned. Hearn magic had always been used by females. When her family talked about conjure now, Katybird always felt studied. She imagined them thinking, Is she a witch or isn’t she?
Katy frowned and pulled a tube of peach lip gloss from her pocket, inhaling its tart scent. She startled as the glass doors from the pottery exhibit squealed open and the voices of two elderly people cut across the silence like squeaky cabbage on a grating board.
“All I’m sayin’ is, if you’d just tote the ladder out yonder, I could water them potted ferns, Harold! They’re droopin’ somethin’ fierce, and there’s only so much magic your daughter can work without water.”
Papaw’s voice sang in a lazy twang, unhurried, unbothered. “Woman, I’m busier than a one-legged man in a butt-kickin’ contest. I’m plumb to my ears in Cassidy’s to-do list. Doc says I can’t go get these bunions fixed in the hospital till tonight, so it’ll get done when it gets done. Keep yer feathers on.”
“You won’t have to kick your own hiney for long if you don’t tote that ladder out t’ th’ porch. I’ll do it for you,” Nanny warned, playfully thwacking him on the seat of his overalls with a dustpan.
Katy scrunched her eyes closed in mock disgust, hiding a grin. “I’m here, you know. I can see y’all whackin’ each other’s backsides.”
Nanny stopped just short of the counter, then clucked her tongue. “Hey there, lady. Chocolate-flavored bean candies, eh? That’s too bad. You want a hug?”
Katybird bristled. She hated how Nanny always had near-psychic abilities when it came to Katy’s emotional states. Like many grandmothers, Nanny could lock onto the scent of her family’s upsets like a bloodhound. Besides, Katy always ate chocolate jelly beans when she was sad: a dead giveaway. Katy crossed her arms, not bothering to pretend she was fine. “I just wanna be left alone.” Her tone was sharp, and she knew it, but there wasn’t anything for it. She’d fall to pieces if she wasn’t surly.
Papaw’s interest was piqued, too, and all four hundred wrinkles on his deeply tanned face slid southward in an avalanche of concern. “What’s wrong, Doodle Bug?”
Papaw wasn’t as tough as Nanny, and Katybird hated to say something ugly and hurt his feelings. She cinched her lips and looked at her shoes.
In the end, she didn’t have to explain herself, because a sweaty Caleb stopped jumping at sixty-two jumping jacks and began running victory laps around the rug while waving his hands in self-applause.
Nanny wasn’t as fluent in sign language as Katy, but she still managed: “Caleb … go … with Papaw … Move the ladder … Papaw will buy a soda.” Caleb whooped in delight at the prospect of sugar in the morning and dragged his bewildered grandfather out the door by the hand.
Nanny planted her feather duster on the counter with an authoritative THUNK. This was her version of throwing down a gauntlet. Katy would spill the contents of her soul or have Nanny stare them out of her. Katybird’s guidance counselor at school would say Nanny wasn’t very good with boundaries. He’d be right, too. Nanny had all the boundaries of a tornado determined to hug a farmhouse. And unlike a tornado, Nanny didn’t know how to move on.
“I’m fine, Nanny.”
“Oh? I noticed you didn’t draw any of them raccoon rings ’round your eyes with eyeliner today. I reckon there’s only one reason for that.”
“I’m experimenting with a more natural look?” Katybird suggested, not making eye contact.
“It’s ’cause you knew you’d be cryin’ all day long. Why’s my baby girl bawling so much? Don’t worry, darlin’. It’s just you and Nanny now—you can tell ol’ Nanny.” Behind her grandmother’s glasses were sweet, magnified doe’s eyes. She was laying it on thick.
Be strong, Katybird, Katy told herself. She decided to test the waters a little. “Maybe I did somethin’ I shouldn’t’ve.”
“Y’ought ta tell someone about it, then.” Nanny smiled broadly to show she was just the sort of person to tell.
Katy’s hands began to tingle again, and she shoved them beneath the counter. She needed to know how to make her magic work without giving her predicament away. Katy decided to throw one of her cards on the table. If Nanny freaks out, Katy reasoned, I can always backpedal. “Maybe … I tried a conjure. Just a little one!”
Nanny’s face folded with worry. And was that pity, too? Alarms went off in Katybird’s head. Backpedal, backpedal! “I mean, not a conjure, just a prayer. Just a little good intention prayer, s’all.”
Katybird peeked up to see her grandmother relax ever so slightly, but Nanny’s eyes still crinkled in concern. And definitely pity. Nanny doesn’t think I’ll ever do magic, Katybird realized, heart plummeting. She feels sorry for me and doesn’t want to see me disappointed. Or maybe Nanny was the one disappointed in Katybird.
Either way, Katy would rather die now than let Nanny know Katy’s magic was tangled. Katy yawned and shrugged to show she didn’t care. “Just prayin’ for a wart to go away. You know how that goes. Only works ’bout half the time, right?” Nanny chuckled in relief, snapping into happy mode.
“Bless your heart! Got faith like a child, ain’t ya? Let Nanny look at your wart, baby!” Nanny grinned a gap-filled smile, rolled back the sleeves of her checkered cotton blouse, and held out her hands eagerly to receive a wart-infested limb.
“It’s okay, Nanny. It was more I just wanted to try it myself.”
“How about Nanny gives you another tea leaf readin’ lesson? It’s a fine an’ respectable tradition.”
Katybird grimaced. Tea leaves were an interpretive art, not Hearn magic. “No, it’s no big deal! It’s just …” Katy teetered dangerously close to confessing the truth. For one horrible moment, Katybird thought she might fall into her grandmother’s plump arms and tell about her glowing hands and her badly botched magic. But it wasn’t normal. The thought jabbed Katy into silence, and she studied the floor.
Nanny’s eyes clouded over with concern, and Katy realized why Nanny was being such a mother hen.
She’s worried I’ll get unhappy and run away like Echo. Last year, Katybird’s nineteen-year-old cousin, Echo, had passed away in a car accident. While Katybird had been longing for magic, Echo despised hers, claiming it was a ball and chain keeping her in the backwoods. Nanny, who’d raised her, told Echo she’d gotten too big for her britches—meaning Echo was dishonoring her heritage.
Over the course of a few weeks, Echo had grown despondent, refusing to learn conjure. One day, after her shift at the grocery store, she’d driven onto the highway, away from Howler’s Hollow. Then, just like that, she was gone. Katy had been crushed—she’d idolized her cousin—but Nanny had been heartbroken and wracked with guilt.
Now Nanny’s old eyes worried over Katybird. Katy reached out and squeezed her grandmother’s hand.
“Don’t worry, Nanny. I’m okay. I promise.”
Nanny beamed approval. The door squeaked open again and Papaw trudged in, mopping sweat from his brow while Caleb happily nursed soda suds from a newly popped can of Mountain Dew.
“You’re never gonna believe what I just saw running t’yonder across the path!”
“Well?” Nanny demanded, hands on her cauldron-shaped hips. She was eager for a good morsel of gossip to lighten the mood, Katy
bird could tell.
“I just saw a shed run off the hikin’ trail and across the lawn, quicker’n greased lightning! I ain’t never seen nothin’ like it! Looked like a big ol’ wooden hog just busted out of the pen.” Papaw’s scruffy face was serious as a heart attack.
Katybird giggled. Papaw was famous for his larger-than-life tall tales. He was good at easing tension in a room. Cutting her eyes over to her grandmother, Katybird expected Nanny to laugh, too.
But Nanny’s eyes flew wide. “Are you yanking my chain? There’s things that ought not to be joked about.” She mouthed the words McGill magic.
Her grandfather shrugged and shook his head. “Coulda been my eyes playin’ tricks, I reckon. I’m hungry as a bear and need to check my insulin.”
Nanny clucked her tongue and herded Papaw toward the museum’s tiny kitchen area, and Katybird found herself wandering to the window to peer outside. Through a clearing in the pines, Katy could swear she caught a glimpse of Delpha McGill near the museum’s hiking trailhead.
“I’m gonna go out for a little bit! Somebody else watch Caleb!” Katy hollered, pulse speeding. Without waiting for an answer, she shoved the glass door open and darted toward the woods.
AFTER FIFTEEN MINUTES OF JOGGING, DELPHA slowed to a brisk trot. She’d been hunting before, but only for things like mushrooms or walnuts. Being hot on the trail of a rogue woodshed was a first. Her feet ached, and her throat was dry, but she couldn’t stop.
The shed’s trail wound its way through the rolling hills, thankfully keeping its distance from cabins and trailers. Every now and then, Delpha spotted a piece of stray firewood. She combed the grass and dry winter underbrush with her eyes for the leather spellbook, in case it had fallen out, too. It was tedious work, and so far, she’d found a gigantic, steaming heap of nothing.
As the tracks wound closer to town, Delpha’s temples dripped with sweat. If someone saw the outhouse stomping around, would she be able to convince them it was part of a robotics project? A vain part of her was mortified the woodshed still resembled its former life as an outhouse, moon-shaped hole and all. What if Delpha couldn’t get it under control once she found it?
After half a morning of walking, her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth. Delpha chided herself for not bringing any water along. She’d have to hydrate or end up dizzy before she ever caught the blasted outhouse, which she was starting to think of somewhat fondly as Puppet. Through spindly pine trees, she saw a marker for the hiking trail that looped alongside the Appalachian Culture Museum. She could run inside, drink out of the bathroom faucet, and be on her way in ten minutes—less if she seriously hoofed it.
Skidding around a curve, Delpha managed to stay upright until she swung herself to a dusty stop by grabbing onto a sturdy pine bough. Righting herself and tearing down the next leg of the switchback, Delpha barreled directly into a wavy-haired girl with a worried face, causing her to squeak in surprise and drop what looked like a massive bag full of rat droppings into the red dirt at her feet.
“Watch it! You spilled my jelly beans!”
Delpha froze in temporary horror, then drew herself to her full height and leaned slightly away from the other girl. It was Katybird Hearn. Drat. In turn, Katybird flushed as she recognized Delpha. Her mouth worked as if she were gearing up for a melodramatic speech of some kind. Delpha huffed a stream of air through her nose. She had no time for this mess. If she didn’t catch the outhouse soon … “Bye,” Delpha huffed and stalked around Katybird in a wide circle, careful not to brush against her on the narrow path.
“Wait!” Katybird jogged after Delpha, her shorter legs pounding double time to keep up.
“Wait, what? I ain’t got nothin’ to say to you.”
“Slow down, will ya?”
“Can’t.”
“I wasn’t tryin’ to be rude last night when I said the thing about the pocket money. It was stupid, and I’m sorry. I know y’all are strugglin’.”
Delpha clenched her fists and quickened her pace. “For the life of me, I can’t figure how you keep friends, Katybird Hearn. You’ve got the social skills of a skunk.”
“Delpha, wait! I … I need your help.”
Something about the tentative way Katy spoke caught Delpha’s attention. Delpha scraped to a stop and heaved a sigh. “What?”
“H-have you been able to do any, you know, magic?”
Delpha’s jaw dropped in surprise. How did Katybird know about that? “Have you been followin’ me?” Delpha growled. She glanced over her shoulder, making sure they were alone on the path. Her pulse roared in her ears and she felt suddenly naked. Delpha didn’t even talk to her own mother directly about magic, much less Katybird Hearn!
Katy’s chin quivered as she slid her hands into her pockets. “What? Of course not. I need to learn conjure, Delpha. I can’t talk to my family about it, because I don’t want them to know I’m bad at it.”
Fire shot upward from Delpha’s belly, and it took considerable effort to relax her fists. It’d been years since she’d gotten in trouble for hitting someone, but being asked point-blank to discuss magic triggered a caginess inside her. “You’re sillier than a bag of cat hair, Hearn.” Her boots found a quick rhythm on the path, jogging away before her temper got the better of her.
Crunch, crunch. Crunch, crunch. Delpha glanced back. Katybird trailed after her like a sad puppy, hands still crammed into her tiny pockets. Delpha quickened her pace to maximum dignified speed. In several minutes, Katybird was out of breath and gasping. Delpha slowed, rolling her eyes. Without turning, she called over her shoulder, “Why do you need my help, anyway? Don’t your family have its own spells somewhere? Like in a book? If you don’t want your mama to know, just use that.”
Katybird clutched her belly, sides heaving. “We don’t have one,” she said between pants. “That’s why I asked you. Wouldn’t have bothered you otherwise.”
Delpha turned and studied Katybird’s face for a moment, then arched an eyebrow. “Even if I weren’t mad at you for insulting me—”
“I was only trying to help!”
“—there’s things you just don’t jabber about in the Hollow. Money’s one. Witchin’ is another. Folks’ve forgotten about the Hearn and McGill magic. Best it stays that way.”
Katybird swiped a thumb under her glittery lashes and swallowed hard. “My nanny won’t teach me anything but tea leaf reading, Delpha. Tea leaves! Any fool can pretend to predict the future. You’re the best shot I’ve got.”
Delpha frowned. Katy’s tears tugged at the tiny soft spot in Delpha’s chest normally reserved for orphaned fawns and old people. She sagged. “We ain’t supposed to be talkin’ about this. My mama’d skin me alive if she heard.”
Seeing her plea was having some effect, Katybird pressed on. “I’ll do anything, Delpha. I’ll pay you, if you want.”
Delpha’s empathy froze over. Typical. “Ain’t everything for sale, Katybird Hearn. Not that your family would know it.”
Katybird’s blue eyes flashed. “Meanin’ what, exactly?”
“Meanin’,” Delpha spat, “magic is kinda like the ‘homespun’ quilts and ‘handmade’ mountain furniture y’all sell in that fancy museum of yours.” Delpha made air quotes as she said the words. “If folks have to buy it to get it, they’re kind of missing the point. Unlike your people, my family has pride.”
A scarlet rash crept up Katybird’s neck. Delpha felt a puny twinge of remorse. She braced herself against a dogwood tree and stretched out her calf muscles, studying the sky. “Anyway, my mama won’t teach me, neither. She’d kill me if she knew I’d found her …” Delpha’s eyes widened, and her voice trailed off, realizing her mistake a hair too late.
Katybird gasped. “You found something! Spells?”
“Yeah”—Delpha stiffened—“but I ain’t supposed to have ’em. Anyway, our book’s not for you, Katybird. Trust me.”
Katybird’s voice neared a teakettle’s shriek. “Are you, like, so insecure and worried someon
e else will learn how to—”
Delpha raised a palm and shook her head. “Nope. That ain’t it. It’s just … our McGill magic don’t match your magic.” She wracked her brain for a good comparison, then finally said, “Look—it’d be like puttin’ diesel in a gas-takin’ truck. It wouldn’t go. Or worse, it’d tear you up.”
Katybird’s face crumpled, forcing Delpha to look away. “Does it say so in your book? That our magics aren’t the same?”
“Nope.”
“Then how do you—”
Delpha took out her knife, eyeballed a dogwood limb, and then cut it off in a deft movement. “I just know. You know how sometimes you just know which egg’s gonna be rotten before you crack it, or when someone’s gonna die soon? It’s intuition. Some things you just know, and this is one of ’em.”
“You should let me see the book, just to make sure.”
“Nice try,” Delpha snorted. She started walking, wood shavings trailing behind her with each soothing clip, clip, clip of the knife.
“Hey, where you goin’?” Katy called after her.
“Trackin’ a woodshed.” Delpha winced. Why did she keep blurting these things?
“Woodsheds don’t move. You mean a woodchuck?” Katy’s eyes twinkled.
“No, I mean like a shed made of wood.” Delpha felt her cheeks blaze. “An old outhouse. I … brought it to life … with a spell, I think.” Talking about magic openly felt so wrong. Delpha pocketed the stick and her knife.
“Y’all have an outhouse?”
“That’s your question? It’s an antique, all right? I did a spell, and then it ran off.” Delpha left out the “accidentally.” Her pride stung enough for one day.
“Mercy,” Katy said, eyes wide. “What else can you do?”
Delpha thawed a bit at Katybird’s admiring tone but didn’t let it show. “Not sure. I have to catch the shed, though, before anyone sees it.”
“Then I’m coming, too.”
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