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SIMON
“E.T., phone home!” Penny yells and holds her ring hand to her ear. She waits a beat and nothing happens. She sighs aggressively. (Whenever Penny sighs, it’s aggressive.) “There’s got to be something there. E.T. is such a timeless film!”
“I haven’t seen it,” Agatha huffs, lying in the grass with her arms folded over her eyes. We’re supposed to be working on our eighth year project, creating our own spell, but she hasn’t even taken her wand out yet.
Penny whirls around to glare at Agatha. “What?! Seriously? Simon, come on, that’s insane, right? It’s a classic Normal movie.”
I shrug. “I haven’t seen it either.” I haven’t seen many of what Penny calls “classic Normal films”. She thinks I should have because I grew up around Normals. There wasn’t much choice for films at the homes I stayed in, though. Usually just Disney princesses and one or two of the Harry Potter’s or Star Wars’.
Penny groans. “That’s the problem; the two of you are sucking all the magic out of the quote.” She says it like a fact, as if that’s how it works. I don’t think it does, but I wouldn’t question Penelope on magic. She goes back to trying the spell, this time holding out her pinky finger as she casts it. That doesn’t work, either. “Maybe I need to cast it on a phone…” She kneels down and pulls out her mobile sneakily, using her body to shield it from the school behind us.
When she casts the spell on it, her mum’s voice echoes from the speaker, “hello? Who’s calling? Hello?”
“Well, that’s useless.” Penny sighs again and hangs up on her mum. She tucks the phone away and starts rifling through her notebook.
Agatha sits up suddenly, tossing her hair as if it was messed up by the ground. (It wasn’t. It looked as silky and golden as always.) “I don’t understand why we have to use phrases from old Normal books and films and things. I don’t know any of them. We should be able to do whatever we’d like.”
“What would you do, if you could, Ags?” I only ask because I’m stumped too. I have no idea what would make a good spell and I don’t think I’d be able to control one, even if I managed to think of something.
She takes her wand out, twiddling it between her fingers rather than actually using it. “I don’t know. I watch a lot of reality TV, so I guess maybe something from a reality show. Like “sashay away” or “you have been evicted from the Big Brother house”, to get people out of my face,” she says, staring daggers into Penny’s back. She gets annoyed when Penny’s all determined and judgemental like this.
I chuckle. “Or, what was that dating show that we were watching last Christmas?”
“Take Me Out?” Agatha laughs. “Yeah, “single man, reveal yourself”! That’d be a great spell for women on the dating scene.”
I take my wand out too, pretending to cast with each stupid spell we mention. “And that other thing he says, “No like-y, no light-y!” It could make anyone who fancies you start to glow.”
Agatha’s face lights up at my idea. No, wait – she lights up. The space around her shines with a faint golden light. “Merlin, Simon. It’s a good job half of your spells misfire; I could feel the magic coming off you when you said that!”
Penny turns around again, like a magickal sniffer dog detecting that someone is misusing spells. “What in the name of Stevie Nicks just happened? I turned around for two seconds.”
“Fuck, sorry. I didn’t mean to!” I scramble to apologise as Agatha looks down at the dim light emanating from her hands.
Agatha gapes, staring at her hands, her arms, her legs. “Woah…”
I look around at the other people sitting in the grass. If Penny can see Agatha glowing, then so can everyone. Some people are watching, some are whispering. They don’t have to see me cast a spell to know that I did; Penny says magicians can smell my magic if they’re close enough. I can see Dev Grimm smirking, like he’s so certain that I just fucked up a spell. (I guess I sort of did.) He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a contraband mobile phone, and snaps a photo – no doubt sending it to Baz so that he can take the piss out of me later. I flip Dev off.
“Right,” Penny says. She has her eyebrows furrowed and her jaw set. I like to think of this expression as her planning face. “I suppose my spell is going to have to be a counter-spell.”
BAZ
I’m in Greek when it happens, doing a lovely bit of translation work on a choral ode from one of Euripides’ plays. Greek, Latin and French have become some of my favourite classes in the last couple of years, coinciding with Snow dropping all foreign language classes after fifth year. I’m translating lines to English and English to magic, when my eyes start to itch and burn. The paper on my desk reflects golden; it feels like staring into the centre of a dying star, something on the precipice between supernova and black hole.
“Mr. Pitch, what are you doing?” The Minotaur’s voice snaps me out of a cycle of rubbing my eyes and shaking my head.
I squint up at him. Everything’s so bright, like a theatre spotlight is on above my head, blurring my sight of the audience. “I’m not certain, Professor. There’s a bright light in my vision.”
I can barely make out the sight of him folding his arms over his burly chest. I bring a hand up to shield my eyes but the phosphorescence only gets stronger. “I am aware. Could you please undo whatever spell you have cast? This isn’t the place for messing around.”
“I haven’t cast any spell, Sir.” I take my wand from my pocket and notice that my own hand is glowing. And my chest. And my arms. I’m the bright light. This stinks of Simon Snow and his band of cronies. Most likely Bunce cast the spell – she’s the only competent magician amongst them. “I apologise, Sir. I’m not sure what has happened. I think it would be best for me to leave the room, to avoid causing further distraction, until I can figure out what this is.”
The Minotaur huffs, braying like, well, like a bull. “Very well, Mr. Pitch. But I expect an explanation when you return.”
“Of course,” I say, leaving the classroom.
I am on the receiving end of many stares and snickers as I light up the hallways and grounds. It’s not far to Mummer’s House, but by the time I make it to the building, I’m practically running, taking the stairs two at a time.
When I get to my room, I try casting “Nonsense!” on myself, and any other general reversal spell that I can think of. I even stoop low enough to try “Reverse, reverse!” in the exact cadence of the Cha Cha Slide. Nothing works. I conclude that it must be Snow’s magic; he’s the only one powerful enough to cast something that I couldn’t counter-spell.
My suspicions are confirmed completely, though, when I slip my mobile from under my pillow and squint to see the photo that Dev has sent me: a very shocked-looking Simon Snow staring at a faintly glowing Agatha Wellbelove. Her glow is so dim, compared to mine, that I have to turn my screen brightness to full to even see it.
I think I might kill him, anathema be damned.
AGATHA
Penelope and Simon head to the library to start researching counter-spell creation immediately. Or, Penny goes to research; Simon just follows behind her, like a lost dog, fretting and whining out little apologies. His curls are frizzed with stress and his neck is mottled red with embarrassment and anxiety.
Honestly, though, I don’t mind the glow. I think I look beautiful. It’s like a halo surrounding my entire body. It’s faint enough that if you didn’t look at me directly, you might think the sun is just bright, beating down on me and reflecting off my hair. Penny would probably call me shallow for feeling pretty whilst I’m under a not-too-subtle spell – she’d be worrying about leaving the school grounds and the Normals seeing the spell, or about everyone knowing that she has feelings.
Maybe Penny would be right, though. Maybe I am shallow, because when I get back to the Cloisters and see my roommate glowing, my first thought is how washed-out the light makes her look.
Philippa has liked Simon for a while, ever since he saved her from something Baz Pitch was trying to do. (I don’t remember what it was; it’s lost in a sea of “evil plots”.) When she sees me, Philippa rushes over and grabs my hands.
“Agatha! You’re glowing too? Do you know what it is?” She eyes me nervously, like she thinks maybe we’re cursed or something. I don’t know that we’re not.
I smile gently at her. I don’t need her worrying and pacing too – I get enough of that with Simon. “Just a spell that Simon messed up. Penny’s working on finding a counter-spell right now.”
Philippa breathes out an exaggerated sigh of relief. Then she looks back at me, smiling. “You really suit it, you know?”
“Thanks,” I say, heading to the bathroom to look in the mirror.
I think the reason that I look so lovely, and she looks so drained, is that my light is far less bright. It probably correlates to how much we like Simon, right? That’s embarrassing – he’s supposed to be my boyfriend. Granted, we almost broke up at the start of the year, because of whatever happened – or whatever Simon thought happened – between Baz and I last year. I wonder how I’d glow if Baz had cast the spell. Probably brighter. But half the girls at school would be glowing – he’d have his pick of the litter.
I’ve always wondered why I never see Baz with a girlfriend. I mean, he’s obviously handsome and he knows it. And he’s rich. I know it isn’t that his family don’t want him dating, because I have lost count of the amount of times his cousin has hit on me. (Never to any level of success.)
After last year, though, on the last day, I figured that maybe he’s been waiting for me. For Simon and I to split up. I caught him sneaking in the woods and he held both my hands. I think he would’ve kissed me if it weren’t for Simon and Penny’s sudden appearance. I’m not sure that I wouldn’t have kissed back.
If Baz had cast this spell, I’d be glowing as bright as Philippa is right now. And that doesn’t quite feel right.
SIMON
There’s a few other girls around school shrouded in light. It should make me feel good that all these girls that I’ve barely even spoken to have crushes on me. But instead I just feel terrible.
Penny tried to reverse the spell on Agatha but, no matter what she did, it stayed. The library was no more help, either. Very little research has been done on spells taken from TV, and even less on stupid Paddy McGuiness quotes. Penny’s only theory was that the girls had to turn their own light off, like they do on the show. And she didn’t have the foggiest on how they would do that.
I left Penny in the library. The stress of it all was building up in my head until I was sparking at the edges and I left, in case I set fire to any books. The library is probably the worst place for me to be when I’m at risk of going off – it’s flammable. I head back to my room, where the most flammable thing is my roommate, and I wouldn’t be too upset about setting him on fire.
When I open the door to our room, though, I think that it’s already burning. There’s an unbearably bright light clouding my entire vision as I enter. It hurts to look at, like it’s the sun itself, sitting right at the edge of Baz’s bed. I’m raising my hand to rub my eyes when I hear “Freeze!” and I can’t move any further.
“What spell did you cast?” My blinded eyes adjust to the light until I can just about see through it to Baz. Baz is glowing.
It hurts to look at him. I can’t quite believe that the pain this is causing behind my eyes isn’t breaking the anathema. I suppose Baz didn’t create the light himself. I wonder if it’s hurting him. Aren’t vampires supposed to burn in the sun? (Or sparkle, if those films Agatha showed me are anything to go by.) “I didn’t. This must’ve been someone else.” It only makes sense that someone else must’ve seen my spell or heard it. I wonder who Baz fancies.
He sneers at me. I can tell by pure instinct; it’s not like I can see him. “I know it was you Snow. You did the same thing to Wellbelove.” Dev did send him that picture, then.
“I cast a spell on Agatha, but this isn’t the same one, I swear, Baz. This can’t be mine.” He comes nearer to me, putting black spots in my vision.
I can see his face; he looks properly angry. “Why should I believe you? How do you know you didn’t fuck it up and spill your magic all over the place as usual?” His hands are balled into fists at his side and I think he might punch me. I might’ve punched him if he hadn’t spelled me in place.
I can feel my magic surging and smoking, pushing against his spell. “Fuck. Off,” I growl to warn him to step back.
“You know, if you go off right now and kill me, that’d be more than enough to get you expelled by the anathema. I’d be a worthy sacrifice to get rid of the Mage’s little weapon.” He steps closer, taunting me, until our faces are just inches apart. “But, then again, if by some chance I didn’t die and was just monstrously maimed, there’d be no one here to tell me how to get rid of this magic forsaken light.” He holds up his wand and I think he’s about to hex me. But he drops the “Freeze!” and casts “Stay cool!” on me.
The spell doesn’t really help, but being able to move again calms me down just enough to stop smoking at the fingertips. I take a few deep breaths and sit down as Baz wraps his blanket around himself. It dims the light very slightly. He sits back on his bed, staring ahead. I look ahead too, to avoid looking directly at the light.
“What did you cast on Wellbelove?” he asks, once the room has stopped smelling of my magic.
I shrug and swallow the chunk of half-melted Wispa bar that I’d had in my drawer since the start of the term. “I dunno, really. We were just saying stupid TV show quotes and I had my wand out and–”
Baz laughs. It’s a rude, curt laugh, that I think he saves just for me. Made to cut off my sentences and call me an idiot. “And you accidentally cast an experimental spell on your girlfriend?”
I suck the chocolate from my teeth and make no effort to answer.
“What was the quote?”
“You won’t know it. It’s from a Normal reality show.”
He must turn to face me because the light in the corner of my eyes gets brighter. “Try me, Snow. I’ve seen Normal TV. My step-mother loves the Loose Women.”
“No like-y, no light-y,” I say carefully, making sure to not say the words with magic again. “It’s from Take Me Out.”
Baz doesn’t say anything for a while. I think he’s probably trying to come up with a counter-spell, now that he knows what’s been cast on him. “And what do you think that would do?”
I shrug again. I know it pisses him off.
He’s quiet again, and then tries a different question: “why do you think that yours isn’t the spell cast on me?”
It’s the same answer and he’s trying to trick me into saying it. I reckon he knows. He just wants me to confirm it. “Haven’t you seen the show?” I snark back, instead.
“Assume I haven’t. Enlighten me.” I can practically hear his smirk at the pun.
I let out an annoyed puff of air. “It’s a dating show. One guy stands in front of like fifty girls or something, and the host says ‘no like-y, no light-y’. The women all have lights and they turn it off if they don’t fancy him.”
Baz does that awful little laugh again. “So you were doing a spell to check that your girlfriend fancies you? Crowley, Snow, how insecure can you get?”
“So that’s why I know it’s not my spell making you glow. It’s whoever you fancy.” Then it clicks in my head, why Agatha’s light was so dim for me, why Baz is glowing, and who was there to hear the spell.
Agatha must’ve cast it.
BAZ
Snow stands up and a wave of his magic sends me a little light-headed. I could see the cogs turning (slowly, so slowly) in his head and it seems he’s figured something out. He’s figured me out.
“Snow,” I say gently, “is everything okay?”
He growls at me and heads to the door. Any other day, Simon Snow growling and leaving the room at this time would usually just mean he’s hungry and headed to devour more scones than a person should. But his hand at his hip, where his sword would appear if he summoned it, debunks that theory. Snow thinks with his sword, but he doesn’t eat with it.
I should back up otherwise I might end up decapitated. I may be undead but I’m not dead enough to test if I’d survive. But his reaction to this, to me, might kill me before he does. “Simon, talk to me. Where are you going?”
He doesn’t even look at me. (To be fair, I wouldn’t want to. Even with a blanket over my shoulders, I’m still blinding.) “I need to talk to Agatha. She’s the one who did this to you.”
It takes me a moment to put together the unbelievably immense metal jump that he’s made. And it takes Simon Snow that same moment to leave the room. He leaves before I can ask why, if Agatha had cast the spell, he’s not glowing too.
PENNY
Simon bursts into the dining hall shaking with anger. The magic flowing from him manages to smash a few glasses like a concentrated sunray. A few of the younger kids run out of the room, probably assuming that there’s a horde of creatures on their way; that’s the only time they’ve seen Simon like this. The older students just roll their eyes – another day, another Chosen One drama.
I was hoping he’d be late to dinner so that I could confess to Agatha that I’d found nothing to reverse the spell. I don’t think she’ll mind, but Simon is going to feel so guilty that he might leave all of Watford in ruins.
But with how he looks right now, I’m half convinced that might happen anyway.
He stops at the edge of our table, looking down at Agatha like he hadn’t quite figured out what to say at the end of all of this.
“Hi Simon,” she says wearily. I think Agatha’s tired of the Chosen One drama too. They’re probably going to break up again.
Simon just stands there, fists clenching and unclenching. Jaw clenching and unclenching. Looking at Agatha and then down at himself. Then over at Gareth, then over at Dev Grimm, then around the room at all the other guys. His magic washes away slowly and jaggedly, like it’s just as confused as he is.
I lean across the table, concerned. (Definitely concerned. Certainly not curious.) “Is everything okay, Si?”
His stares go to the ground and his hand goes to his hair. “I don’t– Who– I thought– Did you cast a spell?”
I’m confused. “Me? Just now?”
“No. Agatha. Earlier.”
She’s confused too. “What? When?”
Simon just shakes his head and goes to grab a dinner tray.
“What the hells was that?” Agatha asks me while he’s gone.
I shrug, a nasty habit that I’ve picked up from Simon. “I have no idea. He went back to his room after the library so I’m assuming it’s Baz troubles. I’m not going to open that can of worms, though.” Asking Simon about Baz is like telling a dog it’s about to go for a walk – he’ll bark and bark and there’s no way of stopping him. Until he actually gets his walk. (Which, for Simon, tends to be a screaming match with Baz.)
Unfortunately, I forgot about the other person that I shouldn’t mention Baz around. Agatha’s head whips to his usual table. “He’s not here,” she says, far away and thoughtful. I hate talking about Baz Pitch more than I actually hate Baz Pitch. I don’t think Agatha and I have ever had a conversation that passes the Bechdel test because of him and Simon.
“Probably,” I start slowly, aware of the impending Simon coming back with a scone in his mouth, “because he was in the room with Simon.”
Agatha sighs. I don’t know what’s going on there, really. And I really don’t want to ask.
Simon slides on to the bench beside me and puts down a dinner tray that is literally just a plate of chicken and roasties and a plate of four scones. He grabs the gravy and drowns the first plate in it, and stabs at it with his fork. He shoves a whole potato into his mouth.
Neither Agatha nor I say anything. We make eye contact and I look down at my book. The silence between us is only broken by Simon mumbling to himself and slamming his fork on the table to stand up and immediately sit back down. I wonder if he’s figured that Agatha’s dim light is because her feelings are fading – almost every other glowing girl in school is brighter than her. Maybe that’s what Baz said to make Simon act so strange. Or maybe Baz thinks the same thing I do, the thing I’d never say to Simon; that if Baz had cast that spell, Agatha would be glowing a lot brighter.
But that doesn’t explain why Simon asked if she’d cast a spell. It’s a mystery I’m determined to solve.
I make a list of what I know in my head: Simon cast a spell that makes everyone who fancies him light up; Simon was feeling guilty in the library and went to his room to calm down; most likely Baz was in their room; Simon came down fuming, almost bursting at the seams; he asked if Agatha had cast a spell.
Now, a list of what I don’t know: what happened while Simon was in his room; what the spell he asked about could’ve been.
The next logical step would be to ask Simon. I want to figure this out and I want to solve his problem for him. But I can’t hear another word about Baz Pitch.
SIMON
When I finish the most awkward dinner of all time, I head back to the room. I’m pretty sure I’ve sussed out that Baz’s glow was a prank on me, to wind me up about the spell I cast on Agatha. Probably a plot to make me dump her so that he could have her all to himself.
I’m relieved to find he isn’t in the room for two reasons: so that I don’t have to thump him for plotting against me, and so that, if he were still glowing, I can actually get some sleep. I pull the duvet up over my head and lay down. Almost going off twice in one day is properly exhausting.
***
I wake up in the middle of the night to a bright light shining through my sheets. I turn so that my back is to Baz’s bed. I hear Paddy McGuinness’s voice out of a tinny speaker and through a pillow over my head to block out the noise.
If I never see that show again, it’ll be too soon.
***
I open my eyes the next morning and it’s still too bright in this room.
“There’s sunglasses on the bedside table, Snow.” Baz’s voice sounds small and tired.
It could be another trick but my head is hurting too much from the brightness to care. I stick my hand out and feel the sunglasses and I slip them on my face. “Thanks.”
Baz scoffs. “Don’t thank me. It sounds wrong.” I look at him now. He’s covered almost all of himself in blankets and is surrounded by books on modern spell practices. I think he’s been up all night researching, using himself as a reading light.
“Did you find a counter-spell?”
A single pale hand pokes out from under the blankets and he gestures to himself. “Does it look like I found a counter-spell?”
I shrug and then remember that his face is covered. “Penny thinks it’s got to be tied to the show,” I suggest. I kind of believe that the spell is real on him now. I just don’t know who cast it. I worked out yesterday that it couldn’t have been Agatha, since none of the guys in school, nor I, were glowing for her.
“Bunce is a clever girl. That’s my theory too. I tried “You’re going to the Isle of Fernando!” as a counter.” He says Isle of Fernando in the same cadence as the show.
I laugh. “Maybe you actually have to go to the Isle of Fernando? With the person who made you glow?”
He laughs this time. It’s not the condescending laugh he usually gives me, it’s real. “What? Snow, the Isle of Fernando isn’t a real place. I think they just send them somewhere in Spain.”
“What? Really?”
He laughs again. It sounds really great. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard it before. “Crowley, did you actually think it existed?”
“Shut up.” I change the subject, “Do you have any idea who might’ve cast it? It must’ve been someone who saw me do it first.”
Baz is silent. Then he speaks, even quieter than before. “Nope. No idea.”
“Well, it’s got to be someone that you fancy, right?” I try to prompt him.
He sighs. “I don’t know, Snow.”
BAZ
I researched these new media spells all night for some way to get rid of this. I tried to dim the light by listing all of Snow’s ridiculous, disgusting qualities (he eats like a pig, he communicates mostly in shrugs, he’s an imbecile, etc), but the light from my body lit up his curls and whatever brightness it may have lost came back immediately.
My plan is to spend the day watching this dreadful show, learning the themes and repeated phrases that could turn off the light. I can’t attend my classes; not only because I’m a walking neon sign, but also because a smarter magician than Snow could easily read that sign. (It says “I’m in love with Simon Snow.”)
Three episodes in, I realise there are only two ways that all the lights turn off: if the bachelor is completely repulsive, which, much to my endless torment, is never going to happen here; or, when the bachelor picks a girl to take to Fernando. (A fictional island.)
Snow has already picked a girl. So why won’t this spell end? Is it because Wellbelove’s light is almost out?
I need to speak to Agatha Wellbelove. I need to rid her of this ill-advised obsession with me and set her back on the right path. The one where she and Snow have a perfect golden marriage and create perfect golden children, and live a perfect golden life together.
My step-mother is good friends with her mother at the club so I drop Daphne a message to get Agatha’s mobile. I assume that she has one on her, despite the ban – most people do, apart from Simon Snow. Daphne gets back to me in minutes, probably relieved that I’ve given up on this gay thing and asked for a respectable girl’s number. How disappointed she’d be to learn that I plan to drive this girl into the arms of another man.
Right, time to be the dating show host. Let the Chosen One meet the Princess.
AGATHA
I’m at lunch with Penny and Simon when I feel my mobile vibrate against my chest. It’s probably Minty, or one of my Normal friends. I wish I could send her a picture of me with this beautiful glow. She’d be dead jealous.
I look around and see no teachers watching and slip my phone under the table.
Unknown number: Wellbelove, this is Basilton Pitch.
I look up to where he usually sits. Once again, he isn’t there.
“Simon, where’s Baz?” I ask sweetly. Penny groans for twenty full seconds.
Simon looks at me confused, then angrily, then back to confused. He shrugs.
Me: Really
Unknown number: Yes.
Me: Prove it
Unknown number: Punctuate your messages and maybe I will.
Me: Okay I believe you
Me: Why are you texting me
Baz: You need to drop this silly, juvenile rebellion against destiny.
Me: What
Me: What do you mean
Me: Where are you? Did simon make you do this
Baz: What? No.
Baz: Wellbelove, I’m trying to help you here. I am not right for you.
Baz: Glow for Simon.
I stare at the last message and try to send one back. It fails, left unsent. He’s blocked my number. I look at my phone and then my hands gripping on to it.
They’re not glowing. The flame has gone out.
SIMON
Penny stands up so suddenly that I almost drop the milk jug as I pour it into my tea. “I think the two of you need to have a chat.” She scoops up her bag and leaves the dining hall. I think she might be insane.
“Do you know what she’s on about?” I ask, my eyes following Penny. When I turn to Agatha, her face is shocked and she’s looking at the blank screen of her phone. “Ags? You okay?”
She comes to life and tucks her phone away. She looks up at me with eyes brimming with tears. “Simon. I’m not glowing.”
Oh. I hadn’t even noticed. Agatha’s glow had been so dim compared to Baz’s, I’d sort of forgotten that she even was. “Isn’t that a good thing? The spell’s ended.”
She smiles sadly. “Look at Philippa.” I turn to look at Agatha’s roommate, chatting with Penny’s roommate happily. She has a strong shimmer around her.
“So, what does it mean? That you’re not glowing anymore?”
Her mouth opens and closes a few times, searching for the right words. She sighs when she finds them. “No like-y, no light-y.”
I chuckle in spite of myself. I can feel tears prickling at my eyes too. “Are we breaking up?”
“I think so, Simon.” She stands up and turns away.
I call after her, “are we still going to be friends?” She doesn’t respond. I’m making a scene anyway. Practically the entire school is watching.
The only person who isn’t here to witness this is Baz.
BAZ
It’s no wonder that Snow is atrocious at magic, I think as I hear our room door slam from beneath my veritable blanket fort, he only makes it through about two classes a day before he’s back here and leaking magic.
“Still on fire?” he asks. His voice sounds thick and ropey, like he’s been crying. Oh, fucking hell.
I stick a thumbs up out of the blanket to show him that, yes, I am still shining away. He grunts and I hear the bathroom door close and the shower start up.
I’ve no idea what’s happened for Snow to be crying. I can only assume that my plan to give him his girlfriend back went down spectacularly and that he’s taking a cold shower to calm down after all the snogging with Wellbelove. Because there’s no way that my messages gave her the push she needed to end things with Simon.
I hear him leave the shower and his bed creaks as he lays down on it. “Agatha’s light was really dim because she didn’t like me much.” He pauses. Perhaps he wants me to tell him that I’m sorry for his loss. “Your light is so bright. You must know who cast the spell. You’ve got to be in love with her or something.” He stops again. I know him, I’ve studied Simon Snow. I know his hand will be ruining his curls and his teeth will be puncturing his lip. “I’ll help you end this spell, if you promise to stay away from Agatha.” He adds on, “but you’ll need to tell me who cast it.”
“That was very eloquent for you, Snow,” I mock, more out of habit than anything. “I swear to you that I’ll leave Wellbelove alone. But I don’t know who cast this spell.” I can’t tell him for so many reasons but, if I did, where would that leave us? There’s no further thread to follow, no extra source to dig for information. It’d be pointless.
He groans. “But how? You’re glowing so bright!”
“I don’t know, Snow. Perhaps they’re just a more powerful magician than you!” It’s a joke. No, it’s a hint. Who could be powerful enough to light me up like the sun? It’s a riddle.
He says nothing. I can smell him shrugging and blustering up a storm out there.
I sigh and try a more gentle approach. I speak to him the way you’d ask a dog to spit out a dead rabbit. “I think there are only two ways to turn out the lights, so to speak. You either repulse everyone to turn their lights off,” that was tactless. I press on, “or you choose the person that you’re taking to Fernando.”
“I thought it wasn’t real.”
He makes me smile. Hidden under a pile of blankets, I can let it out. “Metaphorically speaking.”
There’s no noise for a long time. I start to think he’s fallen asleep. “There’s no other guys lit up,” he says, matter-of-factly, out of nowhere.
Is Simon Snow finally understanding something? “Yeah,” is my only response. I’m holding my breath.
“Why?”
My hopes were too high, he’d never figure it out. I have to push him, just a little. “Most guys don’t like the same sort of person I do.”
“You like a guy?” I’m honestly impressed.
“Yeah.”
He’s so close to getting it. I wonder if he’ll kill me when he does. I wonder if he’ll take me to the Isle of Fernando. “Is it… Dev?”
What!? “Disgusting. That’s my cousin, Snow!”
“Well, I dunno! He was watching me on the grass and your families are kind of weird. Aren’t the Queen and her bloke cousins? You’re a bit like them.”
I’m considering just telling him that he’s the one who cast the spell on me, just to save me from this moment. “A bit like who? The royal family?”
“Yeah! I mean, a bit.”
He’s unsalvageable. “Put your sunglasses on, Snow. I need to go to the bathroom to vomit.”
SIMON
I’m relieved that Baz doesn’t like Dev. Probably because that’d be really gross. I’m also sort of freaked out by the fact he’s gay – not in, like, a homophobic way. It’s strange because it humanises him, it gives him a vulnerability that I never knew he had.
That’s a lie, actually. He’s been vulnerable since this began: openly not knowing, anxiously asking for help, leaving me sunglasses by the bed. It all makes him less of a vampire (but I’m still sure he is one), less of a monster, less of a villain. It makes him kind.
This guy that he likes must be a dick; he noticed me casting a spell by accident and copied it. He probably just wanted to see who’d glow for him. And he hasn’t even got a girlfriend from it, because Baz is still glowing. I wonder what Baz sees in him and I feel a pang of jealousy that I can’t be the one to solve Baz’s problem.
Or I could, I guess, if I knew who this guy is. I could put Baz off him. I could make him glow for me instead. And then I could choose him. I could whisk him away to the Isle of Fernando. Or to some real isle. To the Isle of Wight or something.
I hear what I’m thinking. I know that it could be me. That it could be my spell on Baz. And the realisation dawns on me that I have an easy way to check. A red carpet right in front of me.
BAZ
Snow is standing directly outside the bathroom door when I open it. Our faces are close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath. I wonder how he can stand being this close to the light; I can barely see him through it.
“Can I try something?” he asks, whispering.
“Okay.” I don’t know what he could mean, but I’d let him try anything if it keeps him this near to me.
“Did you actually throw up?”
I chuckle, nervous. “No.”
“Alright.”
Then he kisses me.
It’s warm and tastes like his magic. His hands grab my shoulders to hold me in place, and I’m thankful for it because otherwise my knees might have given out. It’s over quickly, a short-lived experiment. But I’m breathless anyway.
When I pull away, I can see him. He’s not blurred with brightness anymore. Simon Snow is centimeters from my face in technicolour. Simon Snow just kissed me.
“You’re not glowing anymore,” he breathes. I can smell the tea and sour cherry scones on his breath.
I know I’m not, but I still look at my hands to check. He holds them as I stick them out. “So,” I say, “come on, Snow. Are you taking me to the Isle of Fernando?”
He kisses me again.