Archive of Our Own ^beta

By the time I get off the plane, I already have three missed calls from Penelope and a voicemail.

I have a new phone now. Nobody suggested I should try and get my old one back from the vampires, or even report it stolen. I don’t have it anymore, that’s enough. Anyway, the screen was cracked. I don’t mind having a new one.

There didn’t seem to be any point in getting my number transferred over while I was in England – I’ve ordered a replacement sim with my American number. It should be waiting for me when I get back to my flat. That means that right now Penny is almost the only person who knows my (temporary) number, but boy is she making use of it.

I don’t like voicemail. I don’t like not knowing what the person is going to say to you and not being able to ask them to stop or slow down, or repeat something for you. It’s completely out of your control. If you want to know why they called, you just have to sit there and let them talk at you until they stop. And it’s terrible for giving numbers. 

At Penelope’s request I recorded a personalised answering machine message. (“Otherwise how am I going to know if I’ve called the right person?”)

I think it’s simple and to the point: “Hello. You’ve reached Agatha Wellbelove. Please don’t leave a message – I’d prefer it if you texted me.”

(“But what if I’d prefer to leave a voicemail?” Penelope demanded the first time she heard it.)

Fortunately, she has also left me a text. Which I read – because that’s a civilised way to communicate with people who might not want to talk to you.

“Call me when you get in!”

I can’t tell whether she means, Call me because I have something really important to tell you. Or just, Call me to let me know you’re all right even though I know you don’t like calling people.

Probably the latter. But even if something terrible has happened, even if Simon has exploded, or he and Baz have finally called off their embarrassingly failed relationship at last - even then, I still don’t think I want to hear about it. 

It’s not as if I could do anything about it right now - I’m in California. (Penelope dropped me at the airport, so I know she knows this.) And it’s two o’clock in the morning in England. And anyway, I couldn’t do anything about Simon when we were going out, in the same country as each other and he was even vaguely my responsibility. 

I sent Penelope a text – ”Flight was fine. Glad to be back in US” – then go in search of my suitcase. I’ve brought my wand this time, it’s in my handbag, and I kept checking it was almost every half an hour to make sure it was safe. The rest of my luggage arrives on the conveyor belt. 

Ginger’s come to pick me up – she’s brought Lucy. 

“Josh still hasn’t called,” she tells me.  

No. And he never will, I think guiltily. Then I feel even guiltier when my phone rings, even though it is - of course - only Penelope. 

“Sorry,” I say to Ginger, “I have to take this.”

I don’t, not really. But if I ignore Penelope any longer, I’ll risk her flying to America. Again.

Ginger nods. She doesn’t pick up on my guilt.

“Lucy and I will keep an eye on your luggage,” she says and then she coos to Lucy: “Won’t we, sweetie?”

Ginger loves Lucy as much as I do and a warm feeling spreads through my chest. Ginger drives me mad sometimes, but she’s a good friend.

I excuse myself and I try to find an empty corner, which is quite difficult in a crowded airport.

“Finally!” Penelope says when I pick up.

“Hello Penelope, how are you?” I say, “Manners!”

“I have manners,” Penelope says and I imagine her pouting, “You’re the one who didn’t call me when I asked you to.”

“I texted.”

“I specifically requested a call!”

I roll my eyes. Penelope Bunce cannot catch a break from bossing people around. Merlin, what will she do now that Simon spends a lot of time with Baz? (Does he?). Who is there to listen to her orders? Maybe that Normal will enjoy her company. I certainly don’t, but Penelope just doesn’t get the hint.

Penelope is such a drag, I think, and the moment that thought is in my mind, I feel a bit bad about it. Maybe I am a bit too harsh on Penelope, because I’m sure she means well, but I made it clear that I want to move on.

“Penelope, I’d love to talk,” I lie through my teeth, “But Ginger is waiting for me. I’ll, uh, call you back?”

Penelope huffs. I think she’s seeing through my lie, but she doesn’t comment on it.

“Alright,” she sounds defeated, “Glad to hear you got home safely. Bye, Agatha!”

“Bye, Penelope.”

My flat is as I left it. I mean, I tidied it before I left for England and Ginger has been kind enough to water my plants and empty my mailbox, but it still feels like I haven’t left.

I stand in the door opening, taking it all in.

It’s so weird to think that all that stuff with the vampires happened, and yet, I come home as if I’m returning from a vacation.

“You alright?” Ginger puts an arm on my shoulder, “You seem a bit off. More than usual, I mean. No offense.”

“Yeah, just… weird to be back,” I tell her. Ginger doesn’t have to hear the full truth anyway. “It’s so different from England.”

“Did you at least have fun, though?” Ginger says and she closes the door behind us. Then she lets Lucy jump out of her arms. The sound of Lucy’s paws on my laminate flooring sounds familiar and I finally fully feel home.

My dog is here. My friend is here.

“England is England,” I say vaguely and Ginger just nods as if I’ve told her something incredibly profound.

“Well, I’ll let you sleep off your jet lag!” Ginger says and she pulls me in a tight hug. I wrap her arms around her. “I’m going to stop by Josh’s apartment. Maybe it’s easier if I talk to him face-to-face.”

“Maybe you should let go of Josh,” I say kindly, “If he doesn’t call you back, then he doesn’t deserve you. You deserve so much better.”

“Hmm,” she hmms, “… Maybe. I’ll go and if he doesn’t open up then, yeah, then that’s on him!”

“That’s on him!” I agree. I know Josh won’t open the door. He won’t be able to do anything.

We say our goodbyes, but Ginger still has her arms around me. I linger in the embrace.

“Glad you’re back, Ags,” she says softly. Then she hurries out of my flat. I’m left behind, stunned. I think my mind needs some time to process what just happened.

But after a while I shrug. I roll my suitcase to my bedroom so that I can start unpacking. I first check on my wand in my handbag and I feel a sense of immense relief when I realise it’s still there. Of course it is, but the confirmation feels nice. I put my wand on my bedside table, so that it’s in sight, and I start putting away my clothes.

It isn’t much, because I wore a lot of my old wardrobe back in England. The sundresses and the strappy sandals don’t like the English weather, even in the summer.

I change into something comfortable, order Thai, and I snuggle with Lucy on my sofa. I have my phone in my hand to check the time. It’s eight o’clock in the evening, which means it’s four o’clock at night in England. (I know, I have the London time zone standard in my Clock app.)

I don’t want to call Penelope back, but I told her I would, and I really don’t want her to be the one to call first.

So I dial her number, hoping she’s awake so that I can put an end to this promise. If she’s not, then she will see that I called. Maybe that’s good enough and now I actually hope she won’t pick up.

Of course she does.

“Agatha, you called!” she sounds surprised. I don’t blame her. She also sounds too awake for a call in the middle of night. Does Penelope Bunce even sleep?

I shrug.

“I said I would. I’m in my flat in San Diego with Lucy. Ginger left around an hour ago. Everything is fine. I’m tired and I ordered Thai.”

I sound like I’m telling a school teacher about my day, just listing things off. I don’t really have a lot of experience just chatting with Penelope. Simon was always there and the two of them did most of the talking, which was fine by me. And then when Penelope asked me over for Christmas without Simon, it felt awkward even before we visited Pitch Manor.

How does one talk to Penelope Bunce?

“Anyway, it’s really nice to be home. Ginger and I are going out for lunch tomorrow. I hope I won’t be jet lagged. She’s still talking about that vampire!”

“Still?” Penelope sounds aghast.

I know I brought it up, but I don’t want to dwell on the NextBlood thing, though, so I change the subject.

“How was your day?” I force myself to say. My mother raised me to exchange simple pleasantries. I’m not interested in Penelope’s day, since it probably involves a lot of Simon Snow escapades, but it’s rude to end the call after I only talked about myself.

I fucking hate social conventions.

And as I expected, Penelope immediately starts a big monologue about Baz’s aunt and about Simon’s wings and about that Normal that she smuggled into the country. I put the phone on speakerphone and I scratch Lucy on her head. This is going to be a long call.

Penelope Bunce must be raised in a barn.

(Well, no, I know she wasn’t, but she’s definitely not from my social circle in the World of Mages.)

I know it’s only been three days, but I’ve dropped countless of hints that I want her to leave me alone, but she doesn’t pick up on them. If I’d told someone in the club that it was nice talking to them or that I should get going with a pointed tone in my voice, they would immediately excuse themselves.

Penelope only sees it as an invitation to keep talking to me.

(“Alright, talk to you later!” “Well, till next time, then!”)

Isn’t she friends with Baz now? Can’t he teach her the etiquette rules of the upper classes?

Or I can flat out tell her to stop calling and texting me, but that feels too harsh, even though it’s the truth.

I’m taking Lucy out on a walk when my phone pings with another message of Penelope. Of course it’s Penelope. Who else could it be? Apart from Penelope, my parents and Helen are the only ones who know this number and they don’t call. Ginger also has my number, but I know she only uses it for planning, because she believes that true communication is done through personal communication. This way you can see each other’s emotional response and what not. (She must’ve been really desperate to find Josh since she actually called him several times.)

I can’t wait for my new sim to arrive, so that I can text more people than just Penelope. It was supposed to be at my flat yesterday, but apparently there are delays due to problems at Silicon Valley (ha!) so I will have to put up with Penelope’s antics for a bit longer. UPS estimates that my new sim card will be delivered next week or maybe even the week after. The universe must hate me.

So, it’s Penelope. I suppress a sigh and I fish the phone out of my skirt pocket (this dress has pockets!) and I’m surprised to see that she’s sent me a photo.

It’s a photo of two plates with healthy food. Penelope must’ve taken the photo, so she’s not in it, but I can see another person sitting opposite of her. The head’s cut off, but based on the jacket I think it’s that Normal named Shepard.

“There’s a new superfood restaurant in Camberwell. Shepard says it’s fine.”

And another text right after that.

“I don’t really get this food trend though.”

I stare at my phone in surprise. This is the first text that’s not about saving the world or the magickal community or what not. She didn’t even mention Simon! It’s her trying out a new restaurant with Shepard. Why is Shepard still in London?

I reply.

“That’s fine. Food trends come and go.”

Lucy is pulling at her leash. She wants me to continue the walk. I continue the walk and I don’t think about the text anymore.

I think about it the next day when I’m out with Ginger for breakfast and we’re at a superfood restaurant as well. The waiter puts a bowl with toasted berry granola in front of me and Ginger excitedly tells me that this dish boosts my brain power.

“If we can’t level up at NowNext, then we’ll have to do it ourselves,” she says and she raises her glass with beetroot juice.

This is all hogwash to me, but it tastes nice. Still, it’s so fucking ridiculous and I know that magic is real, so I know there’s a lot of shit out in the world. I make a photo of my bowl to send to Penelope.

“This supposedly boosts my brain power!”

I put my phone away, since photo time is over, and that’s when the realisation that I sent Penelope a friendly text sinks in. I texted Penelope about something mundane and silly. What is happening?

I shake my head. Not important right now. I’m out with Ginger and she needs my attention. I gladly give it to her.

My phone rings. It’s Penelope.

I frown.

She hasn’t texted me back yet, but I suppose she really does prefer to call. I know I willingly sent her the text about the food, so I should’ve seen this coming. Of course she sees this as an invitation to call.

I put the phone on my tea table and I let it ring. I could just wait for it switch to voicemail. Then I could do the classic “oh oops, I saw you called, what’s up?” text.

That feels unnecessarily rude, though. And, I don’t know, maybe it’d be nice to talk to her, as long as the world isn’t falling apart. I pick up.

“Hello Agatha!” Penelope says happily.

“Hello,” I say, “Is something wrong?”

Look, look, I know Penelope sounds chipper and we talked about something silly like food, but my gut instinct still associates Penelope with possible danger. Well, I associate the World of Mages with danger, and Penelope just happens to be the most magickal person I’ve ever met. I argue she’s more magickal than Simon with magic, because Simon didn’t actually use most of that magic unless there was danger.

“… No?” she sounds confused, “I just called to say hi. How was your day? Or morning, I guess. It’s almost midnight here.”

Penelope Bunce is asking me about my day. So fucking weird.

But it’s also kind of nice? I tell Penelope about my breakfast with Ginger and I much prefer talking about that than about the end of the world or whatever the hell is happening in the World of Mages. It’s nice that she doesn’t force me to listen to politics and whatever.

“I don’t really get how you like Ginger, since she’s a bit dumb, but I’m glad you made a friend,” Penelope says after I told her about Ginger’s passionate monologue on brain activity and activation.

I know I call Ginger dumb too, but I say it with affection and even a hint of admiration. I wish I could live a careless life like hers. Penelope, on the other day, says it with judgement and I will not stand for it.

I square up, ready to defend my friend, and Lucy raises her head to look at me.

“She’s my friend. That’s why I like her, Penny.”

Sure, Ginger is silly. She isn’t that smart and she cares a lot about unimportant things. She talks as if she’s living in a shitty teen romcom and the beetroot juice moustache makes her look daft. She’s a bit of a slag for dumb boys, but you know what, who cares? She has fun in life and that is more than I can say about my own life. (I mean, can you blame me for that? I couldn’t help that I was living in a hidden magickal world in the midst of war!)

And I love her. She’s my friend.

“Sorry. You’re right. That was rude.”

Penelope Bunce, apologising? She keeps surprising me again and again.

“Apology accepted,” I say.

Penelope lets out a tired sigh. I’ve never heard her like that. She sounds unsure and I never thought Penelope could sound unsure about anything. I know I wasn’t always the biggest fan of her, but I did admire her strongmindedness and her confidence from afar. I never had the balls to stand up for myself until I left school.

“Penny?” I ask.

“… I am not a good friend. I know that.”

Well, I cannot argue with her there. Yet, I was raised in an environment of pleasantries, little white lies and half-truths.

“Don’t say that, Penny,” I say kindly, “You’re a great friend to Simon, aren’t you? And based on our, uh, little adventure, I think Baz likes being your friend too.”

To my utter surprise, I hear Penelope sniff.

“What is wrong?” I ask.

Another sniff.

“Simon is gone.”

Gone? How is Simon gone?

“And I had a fight with Baz over it, so he’s gone too.”

Gone? As in dead? Or just gone? I can’t imagine Simon packing up and leaving, but I don’t think Penelope would be out having dinner with Shepard if Simon were dead.

“What happened?” I ask. Simon can’t have left. Simon and Penelope are the most solid duo in the world. Even when Simon and I dated, that became clear. And hell’s spells, even if Simon’s relationship with Baz had been a more successful one, Baz would still have nothing on Penelope.

“He just left. He came home one day and said that he needed to figure out who he is on his own. He didn’t want to be dependent on me or Baz anymore, because he wants to try a Normal life! Can you imagine?”

I do, I think. Is Penelope not seeing that I did the same? I left everything and everyone around to start anew Normally.

Okay, the whole NowNext thing made me realise that I cannot be separated from magic, since I am magic. That’s why I have my wand with me wherever I go and a part of me thinks it’s also why I let Penelope call me, since I’ve given up on fully removing myself from the World of Mages.

But Simon doesn’t have magic anymore. He isn’t magic. Maybe he never was.

Penelope is openly crying now and I listen to her sobs. I once again do not know what to say. Penelope might need me to be on her side, but I’m fully on Simon’s here, so instead I say nothing and I wait for Penelope to cry it out.

“Penny, are you alone right now?” I ask when the crying has subdued a little bit.

“Shepard’s sleeping in Simon’s room, but I put a silencing spell on mine.”

“Is he your friend?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”

“Don’t say that-”

“No, please. You know it’s the truth,” Penelope cries out, “The only friend I had was Simon and I needed to let him go. I was never a good friend to you. I am not good at making friends or being friends. You don’t have to lie, Agatha. I know you never really liked me.”

“… Then, why do you call?” I ask. I hope I don’t come off as annoyed. I’m genuinely wondering why Penelope is sending me all those texts or making all these calls if she knows I’m not looking forward to them.

I hope I’m not some sort of project to her.

I don’t want her to use me to ‘prove’ that she can be a friend to someone.

Merlin, what is going on with me? I should actually want that, because then I have a reason to end this for once and for all.

But a part of me has to admit that I like talking to Penelope when it’s casual and chill. Today already felt so much more different, because we sent photos of food and we talked about our days and lives, instead of war and vampires.

“Penelope?” I ask when I realise she hasn’t answered.

“Uh. Because we’re still friends. That’s what friends do.”

I hum.

It’s a vague answer and I still don’t know if there’s an ulterior motive for Penelope, but maybe I should also let it slide.

“Well then, how was your day?”

Penelope talks about how she’s showing Shepard around and how he loves London. I sit back and I pat the spot next to me on the sofa so that Lucy knows she can join. I listen to Penelope talk.

When I wake up, I see that Penelope has sent me another photo and three texts.

“y/n?”

“I mean yes or no? Not your name. I don’t read Y/N fanfiction.”

“Shepard says he liked the yellow dress I wore in America but I’m not sure about yellow.”

I click on the photo and it’s, to my utter surprise, a photo of Penelope in a dressing room. She’s wearing a corn yellow knit vest that has no right looking that good on Penelope.

I check my Clock app. Penelope is eight hours ahead of me and I curse myself for sleeping in. The shops must be closed already, even for London’s doing.

I check the time stamp of the messages. Circe, yes, she sent them a few hours ago.

“Are you still shopping?” I text back, even though I know the answer.

I put my phone down and I get out of bed. I slept heavily. Penelope and I talked for another hour and it was actually quite nice. We both ignored her cry fest and we talked about my plans for the summer. Then I told her to go to sleep and I continued my day. I spent the remainder of the day using magic to clean my flat in order to get myself comfortable with magic again.

I don’t think I’ll ever live a fully magickal life like Penny and Baz, but since I’m accepting that I am magic, I have to make some use out of it. I begrudgingly admit that casting a deep cleaning spell is much better than bleaching my toilet myself, but I am not used to using that amount of magic, so I needed to sleep it off.

In the bathroom I do my skincare routine and I get dressed. It’s lunchtime already, so I mentally go over all the things that I have in my fridge. I have some microwave frozen food left. Ginger would have a heart attack at the sight of it, but I don’t have plans with Ginger today.

I open the door to the living room only to find Lucy pawing at her food bowl. She’s usually waiting at my door so that I can let her in, but I really slept in today.

“Sorry, girl, I was very tired,” I say as I refill it. Lucy barks and I scratch her head. I put my own frozen dish in the microwave and I get my phone from the bedroom.

Penelope has sent a photo of a ramen bowl.

“Nope. We’re having dinner now. Ramen are nice.”

I smile.

Then I snap a photo of my microwave.

“Jealous. I’m out here eating frozen food.”

And for extra measure, I snap a photo of Lucy gobbling up her food.

“At least one of us is enjoying a meal,” I write.

And then I add: “The vest is nice. Maybe a bit too warm for the summer tho.”

Penelope doesn’t reply, but if she’s out having dinner, then I don’t blame her. Ginger and I also have a strict rule on phones when we’re eating. You have time to take a picture, possibly send it to someone, and then you put it away. Ginger says that a phone hinders a true connection.

Again, this is why Ginger and I don’t text for fun.

The microwave peeps and I sit down at my kitchen island with my food. I check people’s Instagram. Since Ginger isn’t ever on her phone for leisure, and my sim hasn’t arrived yet, I don’t have anyone else I know to text or call, so social media will have to do. I scroll through my Instagram feed.

I am mindlessly scrolling and an hour passes. I only realise when I get a call from Penelope.

And for the first time, I smile when her name appears on my screen.

“Hi Penny,” I say.

“Hey,” she sounds a bit out of breath, “We just got home.”

“Did you run home?” I ask. Then I realise: “We?”

“Yes. And me and Shepard. Shepard’s taking a quick shower now, so I thought I’d call. To answer your earlier question, the fall and winter collection is currently on sale, which is why I am looking at knitwear.”

“Makes sense,” I say. I walk to my laptop and I check some websites of my fashion brands. Maybe I can also score something, although it’s never cold enough in San Diego for full knitwear.

“Did you like the vest? I don’t know who else to ask.”

“I do,” I say, “I agree with Shepard. Speaking of, why is he… still there?”

I expected Shepard to fly to America on the same day as me, but nope.

“Oh, you know, just…” Penelope trails off. I tap my fingers. “Helping Shepard get rid of a curse that was placed on him by a demon.”

“Wait. What?” I ask. I didn’t make out most of it, since Penelope said that sentence at a rapid pace, but I did hear ‘curse’ and ‘demon’.

“And I also show him around London, for fun,” Penelope says, ignoring what she just said, “He’s never left America before and he’s very interested in the magickal world here.”

“Hang on,” I exclaim, “Demon?”

“You don’t want to know!”

“Well, I’m asking, am I not?”

“I mean… really?” Penelope sounds unsure, “I thought we had this – I don’t know – unspoken rule about talking about magickal stuff.”

I feel an unexpected rush of affection for Penelope. I already knew that she was taking my own thoughts and feelings into account, but to have her actually hear it feels great. She deliberately hides a part of her life just so that I can feel at ease.

“Thank you, Penelope,” I say, and I hope she can hear the earnestness in my voice, “I appreciate that, but I am asking. I’ve realised there are good parts about the magickal world, as long as I have a choice in what I want to hear or be a part of. I mean, I did magic yesterday!”

“You did?” Penelope sounds pleasantly surprised.

“I have to train a bit, because I haven’t cast in quite some time and my households spells were never working properly anyway, but I did.”

Helen always did the housekeeping. When I first moved to San Diego, I had to Google how to scrub my loo. It was embarrassing. Anyway, using magic to scrub my loo is so much nicer than using bleach and shoving my gloved hands in the toilet bowl.

I tell Penelope that and she hums along. She clearly agrees.

“Glad to hear that, uh, your toilet is clean.”

I laugh at the absurdity of this all.

“Yeah, and you know, now that I’m getting back to magic at my own pace, you can give me some tips and tricks. You’ve always been a skilled magician.”

Look at us. We’re bonding over shared topics.

“Demon?” I prompt after a while.

Penelope then proceeds to tell me about Shepard’s curse, which is why Josh died when he tried to bite Shepard, and about the quest through the World of Mages to find the legal answer to Shepard’s problem. Simon and Baz aren’t mentioned at all. A part of me still expected them to pop up in the story, but Penelope is really giving Simon time.

The story is actually quite amusing and the best part of all of this is that I am not part of this either. I put Penelope on speakerphone and I paint my toenails while I listen to a story about a talking fox.

At one point, Shepard emerges from the bathroom and he adds some quips to the story, but then he announces that he’s getting a late night snack from Pret-A-Manger. (I do miss their sandwiches, even though Ginger would say they’re too artificial.)

“Wait, are you and Shepard… you know…” I make a funny face, but obviously Penelope cannot see it. We can try video calling next time.

“I don’t know, everything happened so fast after Micah.”

Michah. Merlin. Completely forgot about him.

We talk about Micah and Shepard and fuck, since we’re talking exes, I even bring up Simon at one point and it’s honestly fun to talk with Penelope about boys. Look at me. I’m talking to Penelope about boys while painting my toenails with pink glitter polish!

This is what I’ve always wanted from Penelope.

“And you?” Penelope asks, “Anyone you like? I mean, that NextBlood guy – Brandon? – is clearly off-limits.”

I roll my eyes.

“Fuck me, don’t remind me of Braden. He just wanted me because I’m pretty.”

“To be fair, you are pretty,” Penelope says and I huff out some air, “You are. And that’s not a bad thing. People clearly admire you for your looks and when they get to know you, hopefully also for your personality. Many books talk about different kind of attraction.”

I bark out a laugh.

“Of course you’ve read books about this.”

“Look,” Penelope says, but I think I can hear her smile, “It’s always good to be prepared for everything. But really, Agatha, if you don’t want a partner, that’s fine, but if you do, then whoever you pick is one lucky person.”

“Geez. Thanks Penelope.”

“Oh! That’s Shepard. I think I’ll have to end this for now. Talk to you later?”

“Talk to you later,” I say with a smile. I don’t think I’m lying.

Penelope hangs up and I finish my nails – I’ve moved to my fingernails – and I think about what just happened. This was… a lot. I talked about magic with Penelope and then about boys. Sure, Penelope’s brass personality still shines through, but it’s really, really nice.

I think… huh, I think I like calling Penelope.

Who would’ve thought?

If someone’d told me a week ago that I’d text or call Penelope on a daily basis and that I’d like it, I would’ve slapped them.

We haven’t talked in depth about what happened between her and Simon, but I think it really gave her some sort of wake-up slap about how not everything has to be about her interest or about something super serious. Back at Watford when I tried to do fun stuff with Penelope and Simon, they would immediately turn me down because “how could you go shopping when there’s a magic-sucking monster coming after Simon?”.

Penelope is still caught up in some magickal scheme, but I’m not! I never will be again!

And she’s considerate of that. She doesn’t ask for my opinion or she doesn’t try to rope me in! We just talked about boys instead! Or… well…

“Anyone you like?”

“People clearly admire you.”

“… when they get to know you.”

“A partner.”

“Is one lucky person.”

I sit on my sofa, waiting for my nails to dry, and I think about what Penelope was saying. Or what she wasn’t saying. No he. No boy. No him. I haven’t really had time to think about my earlier confusion (I was a bit busy being stuck in a burning car), but it’s still there in the back of my mind. Waiting. Lingering.

Penelope’s words have reawakened it.

I stare at the ceiling and I let my mind wander.

The next day, Ginger’s at my door. I got inspired by Penelope’s vest and I asked Ginger if we could go down to the mall. Apart from my phone, I also left my suitcase in Las Vegas and I am not going back to retrieve my stuff. Good thing I didn’t bring my favourite dresses to the retreat, but it’s still a loss.

I send photos of all my possible outfits to Penelope. I’m not expecting a big reaction, because Penelope Bunce and fashion aren’t friends, but it’s all good fun. Due to time difference and a demon hunt (apparently) the responses aren’t very quick, but I also have fun with Ginger.

Ginger.

When she showed up at my door, I didn’t know what to feel. I mean, happy, obviously. I am always happy to see her, but Penelope’s words were ringing in my head.

Now, during this entire shopping spree, I can’t stop looking at her and I just feel so confused.

I have to give Penelope credit, though. I mean, assuming she chose her words deliberately. I have no clue what is happening, but one thing is for sure, I’m not straight, and Penelope clocked that after we spent a few days together.

But I don’t think I’m gay either.

Maybe I’m bi? I feel like I have the same kind of attraction towards both men and women. Simon was a nice guy. Ginger is a nice girl.

Ginger laughs at something she sees and her smile is gorgeous, it really is, but I’m just not feeling anything else. Sometimes I still wish I could just kiss her, but I don’t want to. Not really.

“Oh, do you see that!” she suddenly exclaims and she points to something. I shield my eyes from the sun to get a closer look. I don’t react, because I’m still trying to figure out what I’m looking for, so Ginger just tells me: “Agatha, that hairdresser is retiring. We can get a haircut for only ten dollars, holy shit.”

She grabs my hand and I feel something run through my body. Should I like her as more than friends? She’s just my friend, but she also grabs my hand with such ease.

There is a line at the hairdresser, because of course there is (who’s gonna pass up an opportunity to get a haircut for 10 bucks?), so I put my hand in my bag and I search for my wand.

I hold it in the general direction of the queue.

It’s risky, but I can try.

“Make way for the… uh… queen,” I mutter under my breath.

To my surprise and elation, the queue seems to just dissolve. People walk away as if they forgot they were waiting in line. Ginger’s eyes are wide with glee. My happiness matches her. I did magic. I modified a spell. It was successful!

I can’t wait to tell Penelope.

Woah.

I want to tell Penelope.

“Must be our lucky day,” Ginger says to me with a grin. Her teeth are so wide it’s blinding. She’s probably using that teeth whitener that Instagram keeps recommending to everyone.

Ginger’s still first, so I take a seat in the waiting room and I dial Penelope’s number.

I put the phone at my ear when the realisation that I am calling first sinks in. I put my free hand over my mouth to stifle a happy, but surprised laugh. I can’t believe I am excited about magic for the first time in, well, maybe my entire life and that I am going to talk to Penelope!

Well, it’s not like Penelope had a lot to talk about today. The Clock App tells me it’s already eleven o’clock in the evening in London, so an entire day has passed for her and she hasn’t sent a single thing.

I hear Penelope’s standard voicemail (hypocrite, if I have to personalise my voicemail then so should she) and I frown.

Hm. Maybe she’s finally going to sleep at a reasonable time.

I text her instead: “I did magic! I cast a make way for the QUEEN and it worked!”

And another one: “Now at the hairdresser. Ginger is dying her hair.”

Then for good measure I take a photo of the shopping bags at my feet and send it to her.

“Got inspired by your vest lol. We’re shopping.”

I put my phone away. She’ll reply soon. It’s Penelope, after all.

Ginger brushes her fingers against my cheek.

“This new cut makes your face shape pop out, Ags!” she says sweetly.

I cut my hair short. It’s just above the shoulders now. My mother will probably get an heart attack when she sees, because she always talks about my luscious golden locks, but it feels almost freeing. All those teen movies have this big make-over scene where the protagonist decides to start anew and even though this is only a haircut, this is mine.

I’ve only been back in San Diego for six days but it feels so good. Honestly, it feels even better than the time I first came here. It’s almost as if I feel more certain about most things. (Most. Not all.) (I’m not thinking about how Ginger’s fingers felt. It made me feel uneasy.). I am finally getting at ease with my magic and I am having fun with friends.

Ginger wants to make some selfies for Instagram, and I happily oblige. We need to show it off. Ginger dyed her hair dark purple and it looks stunning.

After our little low-key photoshoot, Ginger posts the photos on her account and I send them to Penelope. I’m certain she doesn’t have Instagram. What would her handle even be?

Ginger and I have early dinner at a new vegan pop-up restaurant that also is supposed to be good for detoxing your body of toxins (as if I don’t have a liver!) and I send more photos to Penelope. She’s going to be drowning in my photos, and I like it!

It’s nine o’clock in the morning.

The good part of this is that I didn’t have to sleep off the magic. To be fair, I didn’t cast anything else than that Make way for the queen, but it was a big spell. I’ve never been bad at magic. I mean, I’m no Penelope, or Baz, or for heaven’s sake, Simon, but I am fine. But magic has to be trained and constantly used and I didn’t use casual magic for almost two years, so it takes some effort.

The bad part of this is that Penelope still hasn’t answered.

The Clock app tells me that it’s five o’clock in the afternoon in London. She’s had plenty of time to do so.

Is this a cruel joke? I am finally opening up to Penelope, and then she ghosts me?

I reach for my wand on my bedside table and I cast an Open sesame on the door. Lucy immediately walks in and climbs on my bed and I have to hold my wand above my head, because she’s clearly interested.

I get my phone. I need to record this for Penelope. I mean, who else am I going to share this with? Normals?

“No, no, Lucy, this isn’t a stick!” I say.

Lucy barks.

I move my wand and her puppy eyes follow it.

“No, Lucy, this is a wand – a. wand.”

It’s a fun and short video and I hope this will make Penelope react. I send the video and my eyes fall on my other messages. I check their info and the messages haven’t even been received yet. I turn the screen to Lucy.

“See. This is weird, isn’t it?”

Another bark.

“I think this means that her phone’s off.” I put my phone on my bedsheets and I point my wand towards it. I look to Lucy. “Should I? I mean, Penelope also spelled my phone when I didn’t answer.”

Lucy falls on her side against me, so I see that as a yes.

I focus on channelling my magic to my wand and I cast: “So call me maybe.”

Nothing happens. I’m not sure it’s because of my own spellwork or because of something else. I sigh, scoop Lucy up in my arms, and throw the sheets off me. Time to start the day without Penelope, so it seems. I didn’t realise I had gotten used to waking up to her messages up until now.

“Come on, Lucy. Breakfast. Maybe Penelope will call later.”

When I wake up the day after, there are still no new messages.

I don’t bother spelling my phone. I check my mailbox and my new sim card has finally arrived. I put it in my new phone and I immediately am overwhelmed with all the messages that I’ve received in the past one and a half week. I reply all of them with a “Sorry! I was unavailable because I was waiting for a new sim card to arrive, but the Silicon Valley bullshit made me wait 😪”. So many messages, but none from the person I wish to speak to.

I send Penelope a text.

“I’m back to this number, btw.”

Then I text Ginger.

“Do you have any plans today?”

Ginger and I go to the movies. I turn my phone off, so I am very surprised when it starts to ring in the middle of the film. Some others shush me and I hurry to get my phone out of my bag. Either I am stupid and I actually forgot to turn it off, or someone is spelling it.

The latter is true.

Penelope’s name is on my screen.

The film be damned. I excuse myself and I walk out of the room.

“Penelope?” I ask.

“Hi, oh my God, hi!” Penelope’s voice rings in my ear and I smile. I’ve missed it. “Sorry for not calling earlier. You would not believe what happened in the past three days! I only just got time to read your messages. Love the haircut!”

“Penelope, where have you been?” I exclaim before I can stop myself.

Penelope lets out a nervous laugh.

“Okay, okay, look- a lot of stuff happened. I don’t know where to start! I swear I wasn’t ignoring you.”

I didn’t think she was, but it’s still nice to hear the confirmation.

“Start at the beginning?” I suggest.

“Right. Yes. Wait, I should make notes for future explanations. See what I mean.”

“Notes?”

Penelope lets out another nervous laugh.

“Yeah, the Coven might need them.”

“The Cove-” I shake my head and I sigh. What has Penelope gotten herself into. “Start from the beginning.” Now it’s practically a demand, not a suggestion.

“Okay, so first we have the demon thing. Turns out that Shepard accidentally got engaged to that demon.”

I groan. That boy sure is something.

“Yeah. I wasn’t very happy about that, especially since he knew and he kept it from me. I needed a day or so to sulk. Then, uh, we actually got together and I summoned the demon and I used legal knowledge to get him out of his deal.”

I blink I shock.

“Sorry, repeat that. You summoned a demon?” Then my brain catches up on the other part. “You’re dating Shepard now?”

“Yeah, yeah, and this was only day one!”

“Merlin’s soggy underpants,” I mumble.

“I then decided it was time to talk to Simon. Agatha, he lives in Hackney Wick now!”

“Hackney Wick?” I can’t say I spent a lot of time there.

“Yes, Hackney Wick! And I’m pretty sure Baz has unofficially moved in, so I guess the two of them sorted out their issues.”

I huff out some air in response. I still won’t be surprised if that relationship fails. Simon, bless his heart, isn’t the best boyfriend.

Penelope hears my disbelief.

“I know what you’re thinking, and I get it, but I think this week has been a wake-up slap for both of them. Right now they remind me of when they first started dating.”

Well, to be fair, I wasn’t around when they first started dating. I’ll take Penelope’s word for it. I honestly don’t care about their relationship, so I ask her how her talk with Simon went.

“Yeah, we talked about it and we both apologised and we agreed we don’t need magic to be friends. Simon’s still Simon. We celebrated Shepard being curse-free, we stayed the night, and I’m pretty sure Simon and Baz started boning in the room next to ours.”

I slap my hand over my mouth.

I never expected Penelope to be so crass. How can she still surprise me after a week of surprises? Then I laugh.

“Good for them, I guess,” I say through my laughter. This is insane. Am I actually doing something that resembles gossip with Penelope Bunce?

“And then day two happened and oh boy, Agatha, at moments like this I completely understand why you left for San Diego! Would you believe it! There was another Chosen One!”

“Huh?”

“Well, he was a fake.” Penelope then proceeds to tell me about someone named Smith Smith-Richards (and I thought Braden from the NowNext was already a bit much) who promised low-powered mages like Baz’s stepmother more magickal power, so he basically started a cult of followers who blindly believed him, whereas his spell actually took away people’s magic.

Taking away people’s magic.

I automatically pat the pockets of my wide-legged trousers and I curse under my breath when I realise my wand is in my bag. My heartbeat speeds up.

I can’t believe there’s actually a spell that takes away people’s magic.

Would I want that?

A year ago… yeah, probably, but now I am not sure anymore. Now that I have some sort of control about magic, it’s not as daunting as it used to be. Or traumatic. One might even call it traumatic, because the World of Mages really left me scarred.

But now I am hearing this news about the World of Mages and it doesn’t affect me at all, and that makes me feel safe. This is all happening there, not here. Simon, Baz, Penny and Shepard (apparently) can fix it. Of course Simon saves the day, I think when Penelope recounts what happened.

I mean, I am in shock when I hear that they found my former Watford roommate at his cult. Philippa never got to speak again. She was forced out of magic. If I were to ask this faux Chosen One to get rid of my magic, it’d be my choice.

(Philippa. Holy shit. She never got her voice back.)

But my choice has changed.

Honestly, I think that now I don’t want to get rid of my magic. I am magic, and even if this Smith Smith-Richard (really, who named this man?) wants to take it away, he can’t have it.

“But yeah, that’s why I haven’t responded to any of your texts or calls,” Penelope finishes her story, “I hope you didn’t mind.”

I did mind. I minded it a lot, more than I expected.

“I missed you,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

Penelope is silent on the other side of the line and I also don’t know how to follow up on that.

Suddenly there’s a hand on my shoulder.

It’s Ginger. She’s holding out my bag.

“It’s break time,” she says, “You didn’t miss a lot, to be honest. I’ve seen better movies.”

I put my hand over the phone so that Penelope won’t hear.

“Oh, I had no idea I’d been gone that long.”

Ginger nods towards the phone.

“It’s fine. It looks important.”

“It is.” It really is.

“But yeah, the movie starts again in five minutes. I’m going to get some nachos with cheese dip, which, I know, scandalous!”

I let out a mock gasp. Ginger, eating non-vegan and probably chemical cheese? Disastrous! Ginger leaves me to order food and I tell Penelope I’m back.

Penelope yawns.

“It’s alright. It’s one o’clock at night here. Go watch your movie. We can talk tomorrow.”

“Yes!” I say, “I want to hear more about you and Shepard.”

“Good night, Agatha.”

“Good night.”

We’ve gone to the next step. We’re video calling!

It’s morning in San Diego and evening in London. I’m doing my nails, again. Despite our new comradery, Penelope and I will never get manicures together, but she doesn’t mind that my hand is drying under my UV Led light.

She’s still Penelope, so of course she says: “There’s probably a spell for that.”

“Probably,” I say and I look at my wand that’s lying on the table. Then I shrug. “I like doing this Normally. I can use magic for other things.”

“I’m glad you finally found your way with magic,” Penelope beams.

“It’s nice, yeah,” I say. Look at us, we’re talking magic! “Now that I am finally, like, associating magic with good things, it is really great. I do still freak out when I can’t find my wand, though. I am jealous for your ring. God, Penelope, is there a spell to add large pockets to dresses?”

Penelope frowns. “Hm. Not that I know of. I can ask my mum. Maybe try finding a magickal tailor?”

“Or a Normal tailor.”

Penelope nods cautiously.

“Shepard said the same about Simon’s clothes. But yeah, according to him, I think with my wand.”

“And you do,” I say, “Shepard is a smart guy.”

“He is. Mostly. He did get engaged to a demon and he traded away his future children. But he’s smart.”

I look at Penelope. This leads me to the next topic. I’ve been thinking about her and Shepard since yesterday.

“Penny… how did you, you know, know?”

“Know what?”

“Know that you liked Shepard, romantically.”

Penelope has a thoughtful look on her face, but then that morphs into a big, easy smile. I’ve never seen her so relaxed. Her eyes shine and even though it’s hard to see through a video, I think she’s blushing.

“I don’t know,” Penelope says after a while. Penelope, not knowing? Shut the fridge!

“You don’t know?” I ask in disbelief.

Penelope shrugs.

“Like, it’s just… it’s just there. He’s…” Penelope trails off and her smile widens, her blush deepens. She looks radiant. She clear her throat and tries again. “He makes me laugh, you know? We spent a lot of time together last week with the whole demon thing and maybe it was good to be without Simon for once. Because he doesn’t see me as Simon’s smartass sidekick, but as my own person. He challenges me in new ways, while also being my number one hype man. We’re both smart, but in different ways.”

I can’t help it. I smile as well. Her happiness is radiating from my screen.

“He’s so loyal and kind, but also reckless and stubborn. He admires my brain, but he’s also not shy to tell me I’m wrong. Shepard is genuinely interested in me, even though I’m stubborn and persistent and I always feel the need to solve every problem in sight. And in turn I admire his persistence, curiosity and courage, even though it leads to questionable decisions.”

I motion to her to keep going.

Penelope never passes up an opportunity to talk.

“And, I mean, he saved my ass a couple of times, even though he was told to bugger off. He’s just an overall warm and kind person. I feel like I can say whatever I want around him, and of course, after everything with Micah and Simon I felt so lost and he was there for me, despite everything. I think somewhere in the end of our trip in America, I had to acknowledge that I didn’t hate him, and then over the past week it formed into… this. And it doesn’t hurt that he’s hot.”

“Is he?”

Penelope gives me a funny look.

“Oh, come on, Agatha! You’ve seen him!”

I have. He looks very handsome, but that’s it. I don’t know what I would describe as hot. (Did I think that Simon was hot?) (Did I think that Baz was hot?) (Look, I know they’ve been dating since 2015 but I still cannot wrap my head around the fact that my ex-boyfriend and boy-I-sort-of-had-a-crush-on are dating.)

(I mean, I think I had a crush on Baz.)

(Huh?)

“But, uhm, to answer your question: I still don’t know why I suddenly knew I liked Shepard romantically,” Penelope says, pulling me out of my thoughts, “But once I knew, it made a lot of sense. Does that help?”

It doesn’t.

It’s not the clear answer that I wanted.

But maybe straight-up asking Penelope why she likes Shepard doesn’t have an actual answer. I guess this is not something you can rationalise.

“Agatha, is there a reason you asked me this?” Penelope says, and her tone has changed. She sounds incredibly kind, but if I listen more precisely, I hear it is very carefully gauged.

Damnit, Penelope. Why do you have to be so observant?

I don’t answer, so Penelope presses on.

“Is there anyone you like? A person I know?”

She’s doing it again.

I shake my head.

I’ve been so caught up in this entire thing that my entire hand has gone dry when I remove it from the UV Led light. I’d completely forgotten, since I am so engrossed in this entire conversation. I turn off the device. I don’t think I’ll get back to my nails anytime soon.

“Not even Ginger?”

“What? No!” I immediately say, quite defensively, “No, huh, why- what makes you think that?”

Penelope holds up her hands in defence.

“Relax,” she says calmly, “You just spent a lot of time with her and you clearly like her as a friend. You talk about her a lot.”

“Right. Sorry. It’s just…” I lean my face on my hands and I let out a long sigh. “It’s been on my mind recently. This whole attraction thing. I wish I could like Ginger, but I don’t and I don’t get why! Even you just said that we’re a match.”

And I think I have so much love inside of me for Ginger.

So much love.

I’ve never loved anyone like I love Ginger. Not even Minty. (I should call Minty.)

I look forward to seeing Ginger. I always smile when she’s around. I am fond of her little quips. I care about her interests, even though they do not overlap with mine. I trust her, despite the fact that she won’t be able to hurt a flea. I think about her all the time and it sometimes feels like the love I have for her weighs me down due to its sheer vastness.

And yet… I don’t love her like that.

I try to explain this to Penelope, but how do I tell her this without her jumping to the obvious conclusion of me having feelings for Ginger, because I don’t. I really think I don’t have them. I try to imagine kissing Ginger, or even holding her hand, but I don’t want that. I love her immensely, but as friends.

Penelope indeed frowns when I attempt to explain to her how I feel. I falter over my words a couple of times, because how can I express this? After all, Penelope has become a close friend in this week, but what I feel for Ginger doesn’t match what I feel for Penelope at all.

By the end of my half-assed explanation, I am red in the face and almost in tears.

I’ve never told anyone how I feel, especially not Ginger. I don’t think I even realised until now. I don’t love Ginger, and yet I do.

Penelope takes it all in and she nods a couple of times. She’s probably dissecting this in her head.

“So what you’re saying is that you’re basically platonically in love with her?” she says after a while.

“I know it sounds weird, but-”

“It doesn’t,” Penelope cuts me off. She smiles. “It doesn’t. It makes me think of me and Simon.”

“It does?” I ask and my shoulder slump. My body relaxes slightly. I didn’t know I was so tense until now.

“Did you like Simon? As in, romantically?” Penelope then asks.

I shrug.

“I think so. I’m not sure. We dated and it was fine, but it wasn’t- I mean, I liked spending time with him, but no- No, actually.” If I think about what Penelope said about Shepard, it doesn’t line up with what I felt for Simon at all. I frown and stare at the table.

I don’t think I liked Simon.

That’s properly weird.

We dated for years. We even had sex.

“… I don’t think I did, Penelope.”

Penelope makes some understanding sounds. She doesn’t seem to judge me for this, even though what I said sounds confusing. Why did I date him when I never liked him? Why didn’t I realise that I didn’t like him while we were together?

When I look back to my phone screen, I do a double take when I see that Penelope’s placed a stack of books on her table.

“Alright!” Penelope sounds chipper, as if she’s found a new mission in life, “I am just going to be more blunt here, Agatha-”

“Penelope, what the-”

“Do you like girls? Or boys? Or other?” Penelope opens one of her books.

“Uh…” I want to answer ‘both’, but that doesn’t feel right, “Neither?”

I can see her nod furiously behind her book. Her ponytail swishes around. She puts the book aside and she opens another one.

I squint my eyes so that I can have a better look at the cover.

“Penelope, are those books about sexualities?” I ask.

“Yes! When Simon came out, I needed to do a lot of research in order to be a good ally!” she says happily, “I may have gone overboard with the purchases, but hey, I supported a local queer bookstore!”

I drop my head on the table.

“No, no, Agatha, this is a good thing! I’m so happy you felt comfortable enough to tell me!”

“Penny,” I groan out, although the table muffles my voice. I think she gets it, though.

“Of course, human feelings are too complex to properly rationalise, but-”

“Please, stop.”

“But, look, this page here-”

“Just send it to me and let me move on from this embarrassing conversation.”

“There is nothing embarrassing about this!”

“You’re acting as if I came out.”

“Well… didn’t you?”

I lift my head so that I can look at Penelope. Did I? Penelope tilts her head and she looks back to me with a kind smile on her face.

“How can I come out when I don’t even know what to come out as?”

Penelope actually laughs. She doesn’t laugh at me, though. She laughs because apparently what I said is silly in her mind.

“Oh Agatha, you don’t have to know,” she says and when she does, it almost feels as if the clouds in my head are parting. I don’t have to know? “I mean, do you think Simon knows? All he knows is that he isn’t straight and apparently he’s always sort of known.”

I sit back in my chair and I blink a couple of times.

On my screen, I see Penelope looking over her shoulder.

“Oh, I think Shepard just got back. And he’s brought friends.”

As on a cue, Shepard, Simon and Baz appear in the background.

Penelope turns back to me.

“It was nice talking to you, Agatha.”

“Agatha?” I hear Simon say in the background. He rushes towards the screen and waves.

I wave back. I am not in the mood for this.

“I should get going,” I say politely.

“Don’t leave on our account, Wellbelove,” Baz also appears in the frame.

“Look, I’d love to chat, but I am meeting Ginger in an hour and my hair is still a mess,” I lie. I don’t want to chat and I am not meeting Ginger. I want to get the fuck out of here so that I can think.

“Your new haircut looks nice,” Shepard also comes up close.

“Anyway,” Penelope practically pushes the others aside, “Bye Agatha. I will send you the information. See you.”

“See you,” I say and I quicky end the call before anyone else can say anything.

A few hours later I’m sitting on a bench at the dog park. Lucy is walking around freely and she’s playing with other dogs. I keep an eye on her, but I am also scrolling through my phone. As promised, Penelope has sent me photos of some pages of her books.

I don’t have to understand what I am feeling.

But as I am reading the pages on aromanticism and asexuality, everything seems to click.

I don’t know what to think. A part of me is elated, because finally, finally for the first time in my life, my confusion is starting to clear up. On the other hand, what do I do now? Am I really like this, or haven’t I found the right person yet?

Does this deny me from having a happily ever after with a person I am madly in love with? I’ve always loved fairy tale endings. I’ve dreamt of having a prince (or maybe a princess) on a shining white horse, sweeping in to save me. Maybe that’s why I dated Simon. He fit the description, although I underestimated how bad the saving would feel. I hated getting kidnapped.

But as I reread the pages, I cannot deny that I am feeling a sense of understanding and belonging. Who knows?

I send a message to Penelope: “Thanks for the pages. I think I am this.”

And another one.

“By ‘this’, I mean aro ace.”

I sigh. Am I jumping to conclusions? As Penelope said herself, human feelings are too complex to rationalise. Just to be sure, I add another text.

“I mean, I think so? It’s as if everything in my life is starting to make sense. But who knows.”

I sigh and put my phone on my lap. I look at Lucy, who’s carefree. She has no idea that my life has been upended.

To my utter surprise, my phone beeps. I get a reply from Penelope. It must be in the middle of the night in London!

“I’m happy for you!!! And even if you do change your mind, that is completely fine.”

“What if it’s a phase?” I write back. I have so many more questions. How do I tell my parents? Will people even believe me?

“Does that matter? What matters is how you feel now. And even then you don’t have to rush stuff.”

I read her message over and over again. Penelope has always been strict, structured and rational, so if she can let go of these self-imposed rules, then so can I. Because she is right. I felt a sense of relief when she told me that I don’t have to know, but now I think I do. And that is fine too.

“Thanks Penny.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Now go the fok to sleep!”

“Lol. Speak to you tomorrow!”

Ginger looks stunning in a crop top and high-waisted jeans. Her purple curls shine in the sun. She’s wearing bedazzled sunglasses and deep red lipstick.

I admire her look.

I’ve always admired her looks.

But before, it would send me in a confusing thought-spiral. Now, I just appreciate her outfit without feeling weird about it. She looks nice and I can think that of her without wondering if I have feelings for her, and then chastising myself when I realise I don’t.

Same goes for when she grabs my hand. Her touch makes me feel happy. That’s it. That’s fine. I don’t have to fight myself over whether or not I should like it and what that would mean. Now, I let her lead me to a taco stand and I just enjoy being around her.

I love her immensely.

Maybe this kind of love is enough. I have friends, family, my dog…

“This stand was featured on a healthy food blog. We must try it, Ags!” Ginger says excitedly.

“Heck yeah!”

Since it has gone viral, there’s obviously a line, so I cast a covert Make way for the queen. Ginger lets out a happy squeal when she realises we are suddenly first in line and I smile. I really like using magic when it benefits people I care about.

It’s so fucking weird how much can change in a little time. When I landed in San Diego, I didn’t know I was going to embrace my magic and also a part of myself in the coming days, but here I am.

Ginger orders for us and once we get our food we take it to a little park area. I grab my phone to make a photo and I send it to Penelope.

“Oh, tell her I said hi!” Ginger chimes in.

I nod happily.

“Taco time. Ginger says hi!”

Penelope doesn’t answer because she’s finally (hopefully) asleep, but I don’t mind. Her reply will be there when I wake up and I look forward to it.

I really do.

***

A week later

***

Ginger and I are standing at the terminal, waiting for the passengers from the plane from London to San Diego to get here. It’s only been a few weeks since I last saw Penelope, but I am beyond excited. She’s going to meet Shepard’s mum, but they’re making a stop at San Diego to visit me.

I’ve even made a silly sign that I’m holding. It just says ‘Penelope and Shepard’ written in pink glitter gel pen, but it’s fun and the moment the doors open, I start waving it. Ginger’s also brought little British flags and she’s also waving.

We’re quite the welcome committee.

Penelope and Shepard walk through the doors and Ginger starts cheering. I want to be annoyed at her for the noise disturbance, but I can’t suppress my smile. Penelope and Shepard obviously notice and they walk towards us. They look tired, but happy.

“Welcome back to America!” I say and I hug Penelope and, fuck it, yes, Shepard also get a hug. (He did save my life after all!)

The four of us walk to the exit and we talk about the flight and about Penelope and Shepard’s plan. They’ll spend two days here in San Diego before going to Omaha to meet Shepard’s mum. There they’ll stay for an unknown amount of time, namely until the visa things for Shepard are arranged. Shepard is applying for a student visa to start in coming September.

Penelope looks very happy when she says that.

Shepard is holding her hand during our walk.

We drop their luggage at their AirBnB before going out for dinner. Ginger takes us to her favourite Dominican restaurant in the area and it’s great. The four of us have a lot of fun and I can’t believe Penelope is actually here and that we’re just out for the sake of going out, instead of scheming a next big plan or whatnot. At one point, the jet lag catches up on them and Penelope leans against Shepard with a smile.

Maybe this Normal will do her good. I’ve never seen her like this in person. (She did already look this happy during our video calls.)

When Shepard yawns, Ginger asks for the check.

Then she bids us goodbye. She’s going back to her place and I will accompany Penelope and Shepard to their AirBnB.

The three of us watch Ginger turn the corner and she’s out of her sight.

“You know,” Penelope suddenly says, “I still don’t really get why you’re friends with her, but it’s clear that you love her dearly. And she loves you back.”

I get a warm feeling. Yes, it’s true. The bond that Ginger and I have is the truest form of friendship and I am happy to have her.

The AirBnB is in the San Diego city centre (I wonder if Penelope once again counterfeited money, because this place is fancy) and she asks me to come in.

“I have a gift for you.”

Inside, Penelope opens her suitcase and she takes out a parcel. She hands it to me with a hopeful look.

I carefully tear the wrapping apart and I frown when I see a brown-leather gauntlet of sorts. I give her a dubious look. I don’t want to come off as ungrateful, but I have no clue what I am staring at.

Penelope points towards it with an excited look.

“It’s a wand holster! It’s spelled to be invisible once you put it on. You once told me you’re jealous of my ring, because I can be sure that my instrument is near without Normals noticing. Now you can too!”

I fish my wand out of my bag and I put it in place. Then I put on the gauntlet and it indeed disappears, but I can still feel it on my arm. I stare at it in amazement and I realise I feel safer. I no longer have to periodically check whether or not my wand’s still in my bag or pocket. It’s here. Magic really can be wonderful.

The holster appears when I let my wand slide back into my hand. I can never do this with Ginger around, because she’ll berate me for wearing leather (as if vegan leather isn’t plastic), but Penelope is right. This holster isn’t for me do have easy access to my magic. It’s for me to feel certain that I have my wand in case I need it. I let the wand slide back.

“Do you like-”

I cut her off by basically throwing myself on her and I wrap my arms around her for a tight hug.

“Thank you, Penelope. It’s really thoughtful of you,” I whisper. And fuck, maybe I really am in a hugging mood, because I hold out my arm so that Shepard can join the hug.

We stand there for a few seconds until Shepard lets out another yawn and I decide it’s time to leave.

“Sleep off the jet lag, will you?” I say.

Penelope takes off her glasses to rub her eyes.

“Honestly, someone should create an anti-jet lag spell, but I am not sure how that would work without breaking the laws of time,” she says.

“Since when is breaking the law a reason for you to not try?” Shepard quips. I nod in agreement.

“Well,” I check the time. It’s only six o’clock. “Early goodnight, guys. I’ll see you tomorrow at my flat, right?”

Penelope nods.

“Yes, I will definitely pet your dog!” Shepard says excitedly.

“She’d love that,” I say and the three of us walk to the front door, “See you tomorrow then, if you’re awake and what not. And if plans change, you can always call me. We’re in the same time zone for once.”

I close the door behind me and I get an Uber to bring me back to my flat. In the car, my phone pings. It’s a message from Penelope. It’s a selfie of her and Shepard.

“Thank for today! Call you tomorrow!”

I know she will.