Happy memories of my abuela's kitchen ghosted through my mind. Watching the sun stream through the colored glass blocks of the door to the backyard. Sticking toothpicks into an avocado seed and resting it on the rim of a glass jar filled with a growth potion. Sitting at the table, kicking my feet under the flower-print plastic tablecloth while I ground herbs with a mortar and pestle. Climbing onto the counter to reach jars on high shelves. Feeling the rush of magic as I whispered an incantation and pushed my energy and will into the contents of a steaming cauldron. Turning the dial on her old-fashioned timer and watching it tick, tick, until it buzzed.
Ofelia had fooled me for a while, but I knew perfectly well now that she wasn't my abuela, and this place was nothing like that kitchen.
Past the bathroom, the door to Ofelia's office stood open. The room was just big enough to hold her desk, a chair, and a fancy antique cabinet full of impressive-looking magic stuff arranged like display candy at a movie theater. Her desk was covered in papers, which I was not allowed to touch, and which she loved to accuse me of touching.
Ofelia peered over the bright red glasses sitting on the end of her nose as she two-finger-typed something on her ancient computer. After a few minutes of letting me squirm and choke on her flowery perfume, she sighed real big and took off her glasses, glaring at me with watery blue eyes.
"Penny, Penny," she said. "What am I going to do with you?"
Did I mention I hated being called Penny?
"I need you to make the counterspell for that customer," she continued. "He'll pick it up as soon as it's finished."
"Okay," I said, opening my notebook. "I'm going to need—"
"Use whatever will work. But the cost will come out of your pay."
I put the notebook down and struggled to control my face. "I didn't mess up his hair. He cast his own spell, and he used a broken duskywing butterfly wing, which we didn't sell him. This isn't my fault."
Ofelia leaned forward, her leather chair creaking. "Can you look me in the eye and tell me you didn't give him the wrong blend of herbs?"
If she already thought I was a liar, why would eye contact matter?
I looked directly at her pupils and said, "I didn't mess up his reagents. I always triple-check what I'm blending. I make sure nothing is stale or mislabeled. I measure twice so we don't give too much or too little. I'm extremely careful."
I didn't want anyone to get hurt because I'd made a mistake. Never again.
She stared at me, lips pressed together in a red line, then slid her glasses back on and returned her attention to the computer.
"Get to work on that counterspell," Ofelia said. "I left the original instructions out for you."
I stood up, clenching my notebook so hard, the spiral wire dug into my palm. I was halfway out the door when she stopped me. "Before you go," she added, "I know you asked for time off, but under the circumstances, I think you'd better reschedule your little trip with your sister. Hmm?"
I did my best impression of a fish. "I can't. It's tomorrow."
"This job doesn't come with vacation time, and you've called in sick more than usual in the past few months. I was being generous because you've worked here for so long, but today's incident tells me you take this position for granted."
I worked at least ten hours a day, every single day except Mondays. I almost always came to work sick, and I hadn't taken vacation time in seven years—except for three Cast Judgment auditions and interviews that couldn't be scheduled on Mondays.
I didn't take the blame for the customer's problem, and now she was yanking my leash.
"We agreed on this weeks ago," I said. "I can't cancel the day before."
Ofelia looked at me over the top of her glasses. "If you're not here tomorrow, I may have to make some hard decisions. I hope we understand each other." She turned away, pretending I was already gone.
I leaned against the wooden table in the casting area. Was she threatening to fire me? Seriously? I ran this damn store while she had brunch mimosas with her friends. Tracking inventory, ordering stock, casting spells, helping people with technical questions, answering phones and emails... I had even started making extra money doing spell demonstrations at the library branch in the shopping center. The only thing Ofelia did was double-check the accounting stuff and make the bank deposits, because she was paranoid that I might steal money from her.
What if she wasn't bluffing, though? She had a bad temper. If I lost my job, my life would explode like hair fireworks. I had an associate's degree in magical theory, which meant I was competing with a bazillion other people for any entry-level position that didn't require a PhD and ten years of experience. Working at Espinosa's was as close as I would ever get to my dream job unless a miracle happened.
Cast Judgment might be that miracle. If I won, I'd have $100,000 to live on, and I could work on my abuela's spellbook.
If I won. A big "if."
