Dev and I used to watch this late-night show where a gang of witches would bleed people out as sacrifices to the gods. And to get the truth out of a person, all a witch had to do was twist a finger, and words would spill out of the person’s mouth. Last year, when Miliani mentioned trying truth spells, a twist of a finger and blood extraction is what popped into my mind.
But she said, “That’s silly, Nat. We only need a spell.”
Then we tried three different spells, but nothing ever happened—until a few months ago, when Mili decided we’d need more than a picture of a person, an image in our minds; we’d need something from their body. So we tried again. This time, Jas brought a baggie filled with her father’s shavings she collected from the bathroom sink because she wanted to know where he was sneaking off to at night. Two days later, she heard her parents arguing, found out he wasn’t sneaking off for a woman like she’d suspected, but to gamble with his friends. Jas was relieved he wasn’t cheating, but her mom was upset he was wasting their money. Her parents separated for a month, and Jas said she’d never do another truth spell.
That wasn’t the worst of it, though. The next day, Inez told her mom she didn’t want to read the Bible, and caught a slap across the face. Mili faked sick and barricaded herself in her room after almost slipping to Jayson about her sexuality. And I told Jas I needed space from her toxic stories and seeing her with hangovers. She said she wondered how far I’d make it in life before realizing I wasn’t living at all.
Mili told us the truth spell must be bleeding, spilling over, though she hadn’t known that could happen. I didn’t really believe in magic, thought these things were already built up, ready to bust out, blended and exacerbated by knowing we did a spell, but when it wore off a few days later, everyone got real quiet, like we were practicing our right to keep a closed mouth.
Jas and I apologized to each other, but the distance was already in the making. I couldn’t ignore the seesaw feeling of missing her while also being upset that she couldn’t understand why I was so bothered with what she was doing. It’s hard not to still feel that seesaw.
Mili warns us again now about what happened before, then follows that with, “But we’ve done harder things. We just have to do it perfectly. No self-centered thoughts.”
I worry about Inez, remembering how she had to beg her mom and God for forgiveness, blame it on her anxiety, the last time. If something goes wrong with keeping Inez’s pregnancy a secret, I won’t forgive myself. And just as I think it, Inez says, “My mom can’t find out about me.”
“I agree,” I say. “I think you should sit this one out.”
Miliani shakes her head. “If we aren’t all in on this, we risk not being strong enough to carry it out, and we need this spell. Jas needs us. We’re not working fast enough. I can feel it.”
Inez says, “Yeah. Let’s just be really careful, please.” But I can tell she’s nervous because she’s chewing on the skin around her fingers.
Mili leans forward and lights the candle closest to her.
I clear the clutter in my mind as soon as Inez positions the mirror so it’s directly in the middle of the triangle we create with our bodies. Mili seems particular about the white and blue candles, which go in the center of the mirror but get rearranged a few times. This spell isn’t one you wing. Miliani had told me exactly what to say: “Leanna Nunez, speak your truth. Reveal to me your truth.” I pinch the ball of Leanna’s hair between my thumb and pointer, and hold it over one candle until it sizzles and burns. Mili says Leanna’s name, then Inez does the same. I close my eyes and think of my sister’s face—picture it like a photo—then blow out the candles.
Inez coughs, and my eyes widen. Miliani leans over and rubs her back. I stand to kneel in front of Inez, but she pushes me away. “I’m fine. Damn. I had a tickle in my throat.”
“You weren’t thinking of it during the spell, were you?”
“I wasn’t thinking of a damn thing. You can be sure of that,” she says. “Now can we wrap this up and get some pizza before I’m back to the prison cell?”
Miliani tosses sand at her, and Inez tosses it back. Soon, we’re pouring sand down one another’s shirts, rolling in it. It’s stuck in my hair, in my eyes. We wash our hands in the salt water. It’s so cold I shiver. I remember nights with Ma here. Me and Dev would bury her neck-deep. She’d say the sand crabs were going to feast on her. After, she’d strip down to her bra and panties and jump in the water to wash off, insisting me and Dev get in with her. But even Devin would stay out of the water, too dark and too cold for his liking. Now, I worry about the bacteria count, pneumonia, and sharks, but I remember Ray handing me the keys to his car. And before I know it, I’m stripping down. I hear Miliani gasp, Inez call my name when I start to run.
It hurts. It pricks, it stings, it burns, but I’m here. In the ocean. In the dark. Under this bright moon, feeling like myself and like someone new all at once. I don’t even have to ask. Miliani and Inez are screaming and laughing and running toward me. Their splashing feels freezing on my face, but they’re here with me and it’s more than I can ask. We wash one another off, dunk in the water to get the sand out of our hair, swim a little, but not too far in case there really are sharks. And then we float. We’re probably on the verge of hypothermia as we hold hands while trembling, while our teeth chatter, and we stare up at the moon.
“This is better than pizza,” Inez says.
My eyes water some. “So much better.”
“We can still get pizza too,” Miliani says. “Let’s get out and dry off before we get sick, or the sea creatures come to eat us.”
“Just one more minute,” I say, looking to my left and imagining Jasmine there. Her hair floating around her, holding my hand and kicking her feet slowly as she floats too.
Back home, I shower quick, throw on some deodorant, and I’m out the door. It only takes me one bus to get where I’m going, but buses stop running soon and the whole ride I’m thinking I’m wild. What if it doesn’t work out and I have to walk back? My stomach is in knots when I get off the bus and run the rest of the way. Ray looks shocked when he opens his door.
“Why you breathing so heavy, Williams?”
I kiss him. He stumbles back. We both almost fall through his open door, but he catches us, balances by holding the rail, and slides his other arm around my waist. Now, we’re both breathing heavy. He presses his forehead to mine, says, “Whoa. That was so good I’m dizzy. Um, have you been drinking?”
I laugh. “I’m under no influence.”
“This is just you? Wanting to kiss me?”
I can feel the burn creep up my neck. “Just me. Wanting you.”
He inhales, closes his eyes. “Do you want to come inside?”
“I do.”
He pulls me by the hand. “Should I ask why your hair is soaking wet?”
“Yes, you should. It’s a good story,” I say.