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

But she wouldn’t give up on me. I know she wouldn’t. And more importantly, I won’t give up on her. I pull up her social media profile, start scrolling, flipping through the contact names that are now familiar. Felix Reyes. Chad Baker. Anika Henderson. Someone has to know where my mom is. Could it be one of them? I’m clicking so fast that it takes me several moments to notice that I have a notification for one new message. I click on it quickly, and when I see who it’s from, I freeze. Brody West. He’s one of the strangers I contacted last time around.

I click on the message. Yo, haven’t seen your mom in a long time but last time I saw her is at Marcus place in Newark. Ivy Apartments on Franklin. Good luck

I read it once. Then twice. The third time, I realize I’m not breathing.

I search for Ivy Apartments, Franklin, Newark, and immediately an apartment complex in New Jersey pops up. I hit Google Images, trying to zoom in, but it’s a pretty nondescript building, surrounded by patches of dead lawn. Is my mom here? Why is she in Newark?

Why not? my brain fills in. She moved constantly. And I have no idea who Marcus is—a boyfriend? A dealer?

My hands are no longer trembling, they’re shaking. Did the spell for lost things work? And I don’t have an apartment number, but the building is close enough. If she’s there, I’ll find her.

Now my entire body is shaking. I grip the edge of the desk, waves of nausea moving through me as I remind myself that it’s inhale, then exhale. Inhale, then exhale.

And then I have another terrible thought.

What if she’s moved already? We never stayed anywhere long. The longest we ever stayed anywhere was six months. It hits me then, hard. I have to go there. Now. Before it’s too late.

My hands are still shaking as I check bus schedules, train schedules, prices of cabs. Within a few minutes, I have a plan. I’ll take the early train from Salem to Boston, and then board a bus to New York at 6:30 a.m., where I’ll transfer to another bus headed to New Jersey. If everything goes right, I’ll be in Newark by noon. All together the trip will cost me eighty-seven dollars, which I have, thanks to the money Emma gave me so I could take Willow to the movie, plus money I have left over from the monthly allowance I’ve been getting from the foster care system since I turned fifteen. My mom’s apartment will be a twenty-minute ride from the bus station. And if she isn’t at the address…

Well, I’ll figure it out from there.