Page 18 of Enchanted to Meet You

“Okay, then, I’ll level with you.” I tossed my wadded-up paper towel into the trash can behind her. Unlike my mom, who ran an antiques store downtown, I threw away things I didn’t need as quickly as possible. “My mom bought this book at an estate sale. It was in amongst a bunch of other old books. It turned out to be a book of spells. There’s a love spell or two in it, and I did use one on Billy, but now—”

Rosalie’s mouth had dropped open, revealing her pink tongue and even pinker gum. “Youhave a grimoire?”

“I guess? I don’t know what that is.”

Rosalie looked toward the fluorescent lights overhead, seeming to fight for patience. “I can’t believeyouof all people have a grimoire when you don’t even know what one is. You’d better give it to me.”

“What?” Rosalie had always been entitled and rude—she’d been at my sixth birthday party, too, along with Billy, and demanded that I give her my new Barbie Ballerina—but this seemed a little much, even for her. “No.”

“You’ve got to, Jess. For your own good. You clearly don’t know what you’re doing. You know Billy gave up his scholarship to Notre Dame, right?”

I nodded, swallowing painfully. “I don’t understand it. I’ve done every binding and banishing spell in the book. I don’t get why none of them are working.”

“There arebinding spellsin there? Look, youneedto give me that book. Let me buy it off you. How much do you want for it?” She reached into her bulky, overloaded patent leather Marc Jacobs tote for her wallet. “I only have about two hundred on me, but I can go to the cash machine after school and get more.”

“Rosalie.” I couldn’t believe this was happening. It was only third period. I wasn’t even fully awake yet. Maybe I was still dreaming. “The book’s not for sale.”

“Don’t be dumb, Jess. I know your parents don’t have the kind of money mine do. Let me take Billy off your hands by doing the love spell myself, so he’ll fall for me and leave you alone. This is a win-win situation for both of us.”

I stared at her. She sounded exactly like her dad—Ken Hopkins of Hopkins Luxury Motors—on the commercials that played endlessly between segments on the local news. I was operating on zero sleep, but suddenly, I did almost feel as if I’d found the solution to my problems.

Or had I?

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea, Rosalie,” I said. “Look how that spell turned out.” I gestured to my reflection. I hadn’t even bothered unbraiding my hair that morning, let alone putting on makeup. I looked like a human-sized Raggedy Ann doll. “I’m not happy. Billy’s not happy—”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. Of course the spell didn’t work right foryou,” Rosalie sneered. “You’re not descended from an actual witch. I am. Magic is in myblood.”

I was confused. “So?”

“So,” she said, with exaggerated patience. “Haven’t you heard of the nine rules?” When I stared blankly, she went on, “Of the World Council of Witches? Established in 1983? Okay, well, let me enlighten you, then: rule number one is that only someone descended from a witch can perform actual magic that works.”

Suddenly all of my tiredness faded. I not only no longer felt tempted to take Rosalie up on her offer, I felt the hair on the back of my neck rise. I’d never heard of the World Council of Witches or the nine rules up until that very moment. Was I surprised to learn that there was some secret witch society that Rosalie Hopkins belonged to but I’d never known existed? No.

Was I pissed about it? Yes.

“That is the stupidest thing I ever heard,” I said. “And it isn’t true. Who made up that dumb rule?”

Rosalie, looking bored, tossed her smooth, shining hair. “I don’t know, Jessica. I don’tmakethe rules. But I do know that amateurs shouldn’t be going around playing with forces they don’t understand. Look what happened when you did. So hand over the book to someone who knows what she’s doing, and isn’t somecottagewitch.”

I blinked at her. “What’s a cottage witch?”

“You.Someone who just messes around with herbs and things in her house andruins lives.”

She said it like she didn’t know that women around the world had been using herbs and other plants to heal and nourish themselves and others for thousands of years.

It was weird she didn’t know that. Hadn’t she researched the history of witchcraft?

Then it hit me: of course she hadn’t. She was descended from witches. When the first rule is that the only True Witch is onewho is descended from a witch, why bother learning anything else?

That wasn’t the only problem with Rosalie’s rules. The other problem (at least for her)?

They didn’t apply to me.

“Magic is for everyone,” I said stubbornly. “Even so-called cottage witches.”

“Oh, yeah? Then why did your little spell go so disastrously wrong?”

“I don’t know.” I began moving toward the exit. “But I don’t think giving the book to you is such a good idea. I think I should probably hang on to it, and keep it safe. I mean, if a simplecottage witchlike me could cast a spell from it as powerful as the one that made Billy fall in love with me, maybe it should just be destroyed.”