How (Not) to Play with Magic (A Cindy Eller Short Story Prequel) Read online

“That’s it,” I announced. “I have nothing. You’re going to have to tell Mom.”

  “Tell Mom what?” Jessi asked, padding into the kitchen with Tansy at her heels.

  I bit my lips.

  “Oh,” Tansy said in surprise, “that looks exactly like the dog in my dreams.”

  Alex went over to Tansy for an ear rub. Typical male.

  I couldn’t exactly tell her that the creature drooling all over her was my stepfather.

  “What are you doing up?” I asked, trying not to shoot glances of panic at my sisters, who were sitting at the counter eating my bakery leftovers as if they hadn’t eaten in a week.

  “Ice cream,” Jessi answered succinctly. “That new ice cream is so good that I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Me, too,” Tansy agreed. “Jessi, you just pick something out for me.”

  I looked at them in surprise. We had enough options that we could pick and choose? How much ice cream were we really going to be going through?

  From the way the freezer was packed, it looked like we were going to be going to be fine through the next big ice cream famine or six.

  I shook my head. Did we really need that much ice cream?

  Jessi handed pints around—Rainey and Starrie both got ‘Meteor Self’, which looked to be some kind of crunchy toffee caramel concoction with swirls of dark chocolate through it.

  My own pint was a rich, velvety chocolate with a hint of tangerine that lingered in the back of my throat when each bite was done.

  OK, maybe we needed as much ice cream as we could get.

  Alex looked positively mournful as we ate our ice cream in front of him, until Starrie pulled out her magical purse and produced a steak for him to enjoy.

  I really hoped my roommates had missed that little gesture.

  Neither one of them said anything, so I figured we were safe for now.

  I gave Starrie a dark look, but she just grinned back at me, completely unrepentant.

  “So,” Jessi said conversationally, after her pint of raspberry gooseberry ice cream with real flecks of vanilla bean was gone. “When are you going to break the news to us that you are Magical?”

  I stared at her for a long moment, not sure if I had heard her properly.

  Tansy giggled. “You should see your face, Cindy!” she shrieked.

  Jessi joined in with her own peals of laughter. “You thought we couldn’t figure it out?” she choked. “Oh, honey, we’re not stupid. We’ve seen you bring toads home after bad dates.”

  “Real toads,” Tansy pointed out, as if that weren’t obvious to me.

  “Coincidence?” I managed.

  They just started laughing again.

  “Nice try,” Jessi said, wiping a tear from her eyes. “Why don’t you just admit it?”

  I felt myself deflate. “You can’t know,” I told them. “If you told anyone…”

  Jessi shook her finger at me. “You know us better than that,” she said seriously. “We know how to keep a secret.”

  Tansy nodded emphatically. “You can trust us!”

  When I thought about it, I realized they were right. Plus it would be a huge relief to not have to try to keep my magic a secret anymore. I was starting to realize what a huge burden that had been.

  “How did you figure it out?” I asked, still feeling a little breathless.

  They exchanged grins.

  “Honey,” Jessi said, shaking her head, “when you bake you zone out everything. You don’t even notice me and Tansy coming and going. We couldn’t help but notice the sparkles filling the air every time you work.”

  “Oh.”

  “Plus,” Tansy pointed out rationally. “Your sisters aren’t old enough to drive, but they keep appearing and disappearing at will. If that’s not magic, then I don’t know what is.”

  “Well then,” I said, bracing myself up to the realization that my roommates were aware of my other life. “I guess I owe you an apology.”

  “Nah,” Tansy said. “We all have things we can’t share with just anything. Just remember next time that you can count on us.”

  “Except with the toad thing.” Jessi interjected. “I don’t do amphibians.”

  I chuckled. “Deal.”

  Rainey and Starrie had watched this whole exchange with round eyes and full mouths.

  “Since, obviously, dogs don’t use the toilet,” Jessi said practically, “who’s the dog?”

  “My stepfather,” I said grimly. “My latest stepfather—my mother’s been married eleven times.”

  Alex wagged his tail.

  “Oh,” Tansy said, looking down at her hand as if to consider who she’d been petting.

  “Actually,” Starrie said. “It’s just a dog we’re pet- sitting.”

  I sighed. “Starrie, quit it. Jessi and Tansy know, you can relax now.”

  “Actually,” Rainey echoed. “He really is just a dog.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “Just a dog?” I echoed.

  Rainey withered under my ire, but Starrie seemed unfazed.

  “Not Alex?” I said.

  They shook their heads in unison. “Nope.”

  “Mom drove Alex off weeks ago,” Rainey offered helpfully.

  “What?” I shook my head, trying to make sense of it all. “But—the toilet, you said--! Why?”

  Starrie grinned. “We can talk to dogs, Cindy. Dingo was perfectly willing to play along, weren’t you, Dingo?”

  The dog barked once, wagging his tail furiously.

  “Why?” I demanded. “I want to know why.”

  They shrugged.

  “We were hungry,” Rainey said.

  “And you’re a really good cook,” Starrie added. “Mom is on a health kick. We were about to go crazy with no junk food.”

  “So,” I said slowly, feeling my face turn red as my hands balled up into fists, “you decided it would be a good idea to tell me you’d been messing around with illegal magic and had turned our stepfather into a dog.”

  “Yup,” Rainey said.

  “Pretty much,” Starrie agreed.

  “You interrupted my sleep because you were bored and hungry?

  Again, they nodded.

  “You two are so dead,” I growled. “I’m going to tell Mom.”

  That got to them, even if nothing else did. They both turned pale, an interesting effect considering how naturally pale they already were.

  “No!” Starrie protested.

  “You can’t!” Rainey cried.

  “You played the wrong sister,” I told them. “If you were hungry you should have asked for some food, but no, you had to pull one of your stupid stunts. I bet Mom can think up a way that all food tastes like green beans for a month—and if she doesn’t I’ll help her think of one!”

  Now they looked a little green. They hated green beans.

  “Get out of my house,” I ordered. “If I were you I’d be looking for someplace to hide when Mom finds out.”

  The girls grabbed their dog and vanished.

  “Your family is so weird,” Jessi said, staring at the spot they had just vacated.

  I shook my head. “You have no idea.”

  ~The End~

  Want to Read more by Elizabeth A Reeves?

  Cindy Eller:

  How (Not) To Kiss a Toad

  How (Not) to Kiss a Prince

  How (Not) to Kiss a Beast

  How (Not) to Kiss a Ghost

  How (Not) to Kiss a Gargoyle

  How (Not) to Kiss a Were Bear

  How (Not) to Love a Hero

  Cindy Eller Short Stories:

  How (Not) to Play with Magic

  Goldie Locke and the Were Bears:

  Baehrly Breathing

  Baehrly Bitten

  Baehrly Alive

  How (Not) to Kiss a Were Bear

  Goldie Locke Short Stories:

  Baehrly Beginning

  Elizabeth A Reeves is a mother, a sister, a daughter, a wife, and a writer. She tries to balance all the aspects
of her life. She is the author of Adrift (The Last Selkie), Running, and the Cindy Eller series.

  Online sites to visit Elizabeth:

  Website

  Twitter: @SelkieHorse