She lowered the pillow, winced. “Since I was like, I don’t know, fourteen.”

“Lulu Clarissa Hannah Montana Strawberry Shortcake Bell!” Only one of those was her actual middle name, but I needed the emphasis. “That’s nearly a decade!”

Pillow up again. “I know,” she said, the words muffled.

“You’d better start at the beginning,” I said, and recalled Petra saying nearly the same thing to Patience. Had that been only a few nights ago?

“So, I guess the beginning isn’t very interesting. When I was little, I tried to use the magic my mom promised me I had. We tried tricks, charms, potions. Alchemy. This one that uses hand movements.” She extended her hands, clapped them together, and then did intricate movements with her fingers, like she was weaving a cat’s cradle without the string. “I couldn’t make any of it work.”

“How old were you?”

“She started me at five. She didn’t want me to stumble into my magic like she did. But I wasn’t able to repeat the things she showed me how to do. They—my parents—were convinced I was just a late bloomer since mom didn’t know she had magic until she was in her twenties.”

I had no idea about any of this. “I just thought you weren’t interested in it?”

“I mean, I wasn’t. I’d gotten used to the idea that I couldn’t do anything. I wasn’t, like, stoked about that, but it was what it was. And my parents believed I’d come around eventually and didn’t want to pressure me.” She exhaled. “And then came Carrie Witshield’s fourteenth birthday party.”

“That wasn’t the twist I expected,” I said.

Carrie was one of the few humans we spent time with as kids; we operated on wildly different schedules than humans. Slumber parties—where we were all expected to stay up all night—evened the odds.

“We’d kind of paired off at the party, and Julie what’s-her-name was being bitchy to that Meyer girl. I forget her name.”

“Natalie, I think?”

“Sure. They were doing that stupid prank where you put someone’s bra in the freezer.”

“Cool boobs are happy boobs.”

“Agree to disagree. As did Julie what’s-her-name. She threw a total fit, threw hands at Natalie. Ended up gouging the crap out of Natalie’s arm.”

“I remember. Julie drew blood.” And I looked at Lulu, and understanding dawned. “She drew blood,” I repeated. “And you felt something.”

“Julie’s reaction was over the top, and it was the final straw. I was already mad, and I was sitting next to Natalie when it happened. It . . . kindled something in me. Like magic that had been waiting around finally got the green light. I could feel the spark in my hand, and that scared the shit out of me. There’s no Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret for newly onboarded sorcerers. I was afraid I’d hurt someone, or worse. So I made a joke of it and went outside and jumped in the pool.”

“I remember. We thought you were the wild, artistic one. But you’d been cooling off. Literally.”