BooksBarbecue
Back Spells for Lost Things
Chapters (42)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Prologue
  5. – 1 – Willow
  6. – 2 – Mason
  7. – 3 – Willow
  8. – 4 – Mason
  9. – 5 – Willow
  10. – 6 – Mason
  11. – 7 – Willow
  12. – 8 – Mason
  13. – 9 – Willow
  14. – 10 – Mason
  15. – 11 – Willow
  16. – 12 – Mason
  17. – 13 – Willow
  18. – 14 – Mason
  19. – 15 – Willow
  20. – 16 – Mason
  21. – 17 – Willow
  22. – 18 – Mason
  23. – 19 – Willow
  24. – 20 – Mason
  25. – 21 – Willow
  26. – 22 – Mason
  27. – 23 – Willow
  28. – 24 – Mason
  29. – 25 – Willow
  30. – 26 – Mason
  31. – 27 – Willow
  32. – 28 – Mason
  33. – 29 – Willow
  34. – 30 – Mason
  35. – 31 – Willow
  36. – 32 – Mason
  37. – 33 – Willow
  38. – 34 – Mason
  39. Acknowledgments
  40. More from the Author
  41. About the Author
  42. ALSO BY JENNA EVANS WELCH

Now I’m thinking about my mom like she’s dead. But she’s not. She still has a chance; we still have a chance. We have more than a chance, if the signs are to be believed. Even with those thoughts, dread splays through me, its long tentacles reaching all the way to my fingertips. I grip the box. I’m not interested in my mom’s past; I’m interested in her future.

I stand up and shove the shoebox roughly into the top of my closet, doing my best to force it out of my mind as well. My mom, or the universe, or whatever it is, sent me a sign, and right now I need to trust that. I don’t have time to delve into Emma and my mom’s messy past. I need to focus on the future. Right now, my main job is to figure out why Willow showed up when she did. No matter how many times I try to twist it into coincidence, I can’t.

I asked for a sign and a mermaid showed up. Everything is going to be fine.

The rest of the night is misery. I feel like a can of soda that’s been through a spin cycle and then a round in the dryer, just for kicks. The Morgan household takes at least twice as long as it usually does to wind down. Dinner is pizza that doesn’t arrive until seven, and then when it’s bedtime, I hear the girls arguing and laughing in the next room for what feels like ages. Finally, I hear Emma leave for her tour, and Simon turns on a golf tournament in the living room.

I spend twenty minutes trying to access Internet from my phone, but like Emma said, it barely works and every click is agonizingly slow. I’m feeling just desperate enough to try the family computer, so I make my way quietly out of my room and downstairs.

As I walk into the dining room, I see Nova slouched in the computer chair. She doesn’t hear me come in, so I knock on the entryway and she jumps about two feet before quickly closing the windows on her screen and scraping back in the chair. She stares stubbornly at the floor, her cheeks red.

I study her for a moment, tension thick in the center of the dining room. “Do you need more time? I’m not in a rush.”

“You can have it,” she mumbles, then shoves past me.