Page 29 of If The Shoe Fits

I’m, of course, referring to the Witch Trifecta made up of our mayor, Evie Castor, and her besties Bella and Donny, all of whom are responsible for keeping the wards and protection spells surrounding our town in fine working order.

“Yep! All three Witches and their mates are coming. It’s going to be amazing,” Agatha whispers, practically vibrating out of her seat with excitement.

I snort.

“Come on! Act excited or something, before you turn into a Brontë character,” Agatha snarks, tossing a fake leaf garland at me like it’s some kind of decorative intervention.

I blink, caught between annoyance and amusement. “A Brontë character?”

She smirks, not missing a beat.

“Yeah, you know. Brooding by a rain-streaked window, sighing dramatically, waiting for some broody guy with cheekbones to come sweeping in on horseback—or whatever the supernatural equivalent of that is. A moody Werewolf in a trench coat, maybe?”

I narrow my eyes at her.

“I don’t brood.”

“You literally just sighed,” she shoots back, mimicking me with exaggerated flair, clutching her chest like a tragic heroine. “‘Oh, Wulfy, why dost thou haunt my dreams. Wilt thou lick my secret treasure if I specifically request?’”

I throw a crumpled piece of tissue paper at her, which she dodges with a laugh.

“You’re insufferable,” I mutter, but I can’t stop the smile tugging at my lips.

“And you’re one good window seat and a thunderstorm away from becoming a gothic romance cliché,” she quips, holding up a plastic pumpkin like a prize.

“Get it together, Dora. Harvest Moon Ball prep waits for no one—not even tragic witches pining for their fated mate.”

“Fine. And I’m sorry. That is really cool about the Trifecta,” I concede, after she rolls her eyes at me.

“Thank you,” she says, placing the last of the garland in a pile.

“So, how’d your pop quiz go?” Agatha asks, her tone casual but her eyebrow arched in curiosity.

“The juniors did well,” I reply, smoothing a wrinkle from the tablecloth. “I gave the same quiz to my sophomores, and… well, let’s just say they were not happy.”

“No?” she prompts, a knowing grin tugging at her lips.

“Nope,” I say, shaking my head, the memory still fresh enough to make me wince.

For whatever reason, it was like no one in the sophomore class had even glanced at their notes.

I mean, not one.

The room was filled with blank stares and frantic scribbling, as if sheer determination could summon the correct answers from thin air.

“Only the Spano twins—Bethany and Daniel—managed to pass,” I add, frowning. “And even that was by the skin of their teeth.”

Agatha looks up from the stack of streamers she’s sorting. “Bethany and Daniel? They’re the straight-A kids, right? Always turning in assignments early and volunteering to help after class?”

“That’s them,” I confirm, twirling a piece of ribbon absentmindedly around my finger. “But what’s weird is, the rest of the class—all of them—bombed. And it’s not like I gave them something impossible. It was the same material we’ve been covering for weeks!”

“Hmm,” Agatha says, her brow furrowing. “That’s odd. Was it, like, everyone-everyone?”

I nod, still puzzled.

“Pretty much. And the thing that really stuck out? Most of the ones who failed—like, spectacularly—were from the cheer squad and the football team.”

Agatha pauses, giving me a pointed look. “Okay, that’s suspicious. Did they have a big game recently? A late-night practice or something?”

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