A Non-Witch's Grimoire of Love and Fireflies

Part 3

Ametrine unloaded her latest catch into the lantern, quickly slamming the lid back on so that none of them escaped. She leaned down to watch them crawl across the glass walls, lights flickering. Between the two of them, they’d so far managed to catch enough to make the lantern light up like a nightlight. She tapped the glass, watching as the sound stirred the little bugs inside into flight.

Behind her, Tierney was struggling to reach a bunch of fireflies that flitted among the branches of a tree above her head. Ametrine dropped her net quietly, and ran up behind her to lift her up enough to reach the fireflies.

Tierney yelped, and almost dropped the net. She tried to shoot a glare at Ametrine, using every ounce of fury that she could muster in it, but her frown was more like an awkward smirk from trying not to laugh. Ametrine grinned, and dropped her feet to the ground so she could take her hands instead and whirled her in a circle.

Tierney giggled, her curls and the hem of her dress blowing out behind her and her face full of light as they spun. Her glasses were wonky. Ametrine laughed too, her heart overflowing. Moments like this were real magic to her, far more than witchcraft or enchantments or any other magic that Tierney admired, the kind that could be bought and sold and written down.

They fell breathless onto the grass beside the pond, but Ametrine still kept a tight hold on one of Tierney’s hands. Stars shone through gaps in the trees above.

“You should make fireworks,” Ametrine said between breaths, gazing up at the dark sky.

“Absolutely not,” Tierney responded, and sat up with a huff to adjust her glasses. “I could make sparklers, though.”

Ametrine grinned, glad, not for the first time that night, that it was too dark for Tierney to see her face properly. “I love you.”

“Because I’m going to give you a sparkler? Dunce.”

Ametrine laughed, propping herself up on her elbows to look at her best friend. “Yeah.”

Tierney snorted and got up to pick two cattails, sliding her fingers gently down each one so they glowed briefly. Ametrine sat up as she handed one to her. Tierney snapped her fingers, and the end of each cattail flamed up, throwing sparks out into the night.

They sat together, shoulder to shoulder in the cool grass, just watching the lights for a while. Ametrine waved hers about, drawing pictures and letters and extravagant flourishes in the air. Tierney watched her, but made no effort to join in. Ametrine tried not to feel disappointed again, but there was a distant feeling in the depths of her heart that this might be their last summer spent together in this way. Because Tierney was right. She’d been right for a long time. Ametrine had felt it ever since her best friend had graduated from her witch’s apprenticeship. She’d felt it in the way they slowly stopped having the time to spend every moment together, both asleep and awake. She’d felt it when she’d started to wonder if they could be more than friends. She felt it in their words, in the way nostalgia hit her like it never had before.

They had grown up.

“You alright?” Tierney asked, pushing her glasses up as the last flare on her sparkler dimmed.

Ametrine realised her sparkler had gone out too and threw it into the pond. “I was just...remembering, I guess.”

“Remembering what?”

“Summer. Us.” She flopped dramatically on the ground. “We’ve changed so much, Tierney.”

Tierney poked her stomach, making her squirm. “Really? You seem the same as you’ve always been to me.”