Page 4 of My Blind Date is a Demon

A horn honks again.

“Go around!” I yell to the mirror, waving my arm like a drunk flamingo.

“Yeah, to what?” I ask Bridget.

“To set up a parent-teacher conference,” she says. “There have also been a few incidents of—”

This time, when the horn honks, I throw the door open and step out. “What?” I yell to the mom behind me. “Can you not go around?”

She leans out her window. “This is a pick-up lane. Not a stop and gab lane.”

“What? You think I want to be reamed out by my kid’s teacher right now? Get outta here!”

The woman humphs and—quite easily—goes around me. I shake my head after I barely keep it together and don’t flip her off and get back into the car.

“What were you saying, Bridget?”

“Umm.” She gulps. “Some incidents of bullying…on Bella’s part.”

I feel my face turn hot and I squeeze the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn white.

“Look, Bridget, can we talk about this later?” I ask.

“Of course,” she says. “I just wanted to make sure you were aware.”

“Well, I am now.”

“I know,” she says. “And I want you to know, you’re doing a great job. There are just some things we need to work out before they become bigger problems.”

“Thanks,” I say, cooling off a bit. “I appreciate it. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, great. Have a nice evening.”

“You, too,” I say as I throw the car in gear and get out of the pick-up lane as quickly as I can.

“Tough day?” I ask Bella.

“I guess,” she says.

“Sorry, honey. We can talk about it later. I want you to have a good lesson with Beverly.”

We pull into the parking lot at The Book Coven only a couple of minutes later. Mystic Cove is small enough that nothing is ever very far away. I watch Bella go into the shop while I run across to Jumpin’ Beans and grab coffees for me, Beverly, and Cora. By the time I get back to The Book Coven, Beverly and Bella have already gone into a back room to work on Bella’s spellcasting.

“Hey,” Cora says, coming around from behind the counter. She takes her coffee and inhales the scent. She moves to the couches in the bay window where shoppers and guests usually sit and chat. “Is Bella okay?”

“Why do you ask?”

“She was pretty quiet when she came in. She’s usually so excited to be here.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess I should have brought her backpack in. Apparently, Ms. Hawthorne sent a note home.”

“Uh-oh. What happened?”

“I guess her grades are slipping. And…I’m embarrassed to say it, but I guess she’s been bullying someone?”

“Who?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “Bridget said she’d talk to me about it during a parent-teacher conference.”

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