The Book at the Top of the Closet

Chapter Eleven

Veronica has almost too much fun helping me pick out an obsidian mirror for scrying.

She practically bounces through the store with me, babbling about trances as she sips coffee from a teal and purple paper cup. The coffee shop was a total hit- she got an Indiana Jones themed drink with espresso and peanut butter. I took a sip, but I'm pretty sure there was sriracha in it, so I ordered something else. Mine is called The Princess and the Criminal, and it's a twist on cappuccino with pastel pink whipped cream on top instead of foamy steamed milk. I downed it before we left the coffee shop, but I can still taste it as we shop.

I stand on my tiptoes to get a better look at some mirrors on the top of a shelf, letting out a sigh when I see that most of them are over a hundred dollars. I want to do this scrying thing right, but I don't want to go broke, especially since I don't know if it will work. Veronica jostles into me, swishing a long scarf around as she twirls by.

"You're going to get us in trouble," I say after I regain my balance. She sticks her tongue out at me, but puts the scarf back where she got it.

"You could use some trouble, babe." She tosses an arm around me as she says this, and I poke her in the ribs with my elbow. If any other girl as cool as Veronica called me babe, I would have major butterflies. Lions and tigers and bears, too, probably. I wiggle out from under her arm and try to reach one of the smaller mirrors on the shelf. After a couple of attempts, I turn to Veronica for help. More than a head taller than me, she reaches the mirror pretty easily.

The smallest mirror on the shelf is only thirty dollars, and while that's still a lot of money to pay for a shiny disc that fits in the palm of my hand, it's better than a hundred bucks. The lady at the checkout counter wraps it in tissue paper and bags it up, casting a side-eye at Veronica for twirling around in the store. She's smiling, though. Veronica flashes her a half-apologetic smile, as if to say Thanks for tolerating me.

We hightail it back to campus, excited to try out the mirror. Veronica downs the rest of her coffee in one big gulp at a red light, and I make a face at her, imagining the thick peanut buttery consistency of the coffee going down her throat. I almost gag a little, but she's unfazed. The light turns green, and we're moving again. My stomach does a little flip. If tonight goes well, I'll know that magic is real. Scrying seems a lot harder to discount than tarot- if something happens, I really think I'll know it was magic.

The car picks up speed and so does my heartbeat, and I don't know if I'm scared or excited. Either way, I'm too amped up to talk, so I pull out Aria's journal and lean on the car's armrest while I read. The sight of the familiar handwriting calms me ever so slightly, and before long, I'm far away from this car, into Aria's head again.

#​

Dear Diary,

The closer it gets to my birthday, the more I keep thinking about the people I wish I could spend it with. Sure, there's Hayden, but he's not the only one I miss. Lately I've been thinking about Lena. We've only talked sporadically since I saw her- I haven't really known what to say. Her whole life is changing. We've already grown apart so much with fewer and fewer common interests, but now that she's going to be a mom, I don't know if things can ever be the way they used to. In fact, I'm fairly certain it never will be.

I can't help but feel like if we were closer these last few months, somehow this wouldn't have happened.

If she had just talked to me, maybe I would've given her some good advice. Maybe I would've convinced her that any guy who pressured her to sleep with him without protection was a loser. Maybe she would've listened. Maybe she would be looking at colleges instead of maternity clothes.