Page 1 of Summertime Hexy
CHAPTER 1
HAZEL
It starts, as all great disasters do, with glitter.
I didn’t plan for it. Swear on my broken wand and the last decent cup of coffee in the universe. But the second my boot hits the welcome mat at Camp Lightring’s main hall, the trigger spell I rigged as a “dramatic reentry flourish” misfires and—boom—explosive sparkle storm. Ruby-red sparkles coat the porch, the door, the sign that reads“No Spellcasting in Administrative Buildings,”and most unforgivably, my new summer-camp-issue cargo shorts. Tragic.
“Hazel Blackmoore,” a voice says behind me, already world-weary. “Not even five seconds and we’re committing minor arcane vandalism.”
I whip around. Lyra Vance, long white sundress flowing like she’s permanently walking through a dream sequence, has her arms crossed and one eyebrow arched high enough to signal divine judgment.
“Oh c’mon,” I grin, “you missed me.”
“You owe the custodial team a blood sacrifice.”
“Cute. I brought cookies instead.”
“Cookies don’t remove enchantment glitter, Hazel.”
“Not with that attitude.”
Lyra sighs and steps aside to let me in. The main hall still smells like eucalyptus and chalk dust, just like it did three years ago when I stormed out after The Incident. Not my finest moment. But I’m back now. Chaotic, yes. But stronger. Probably. Sort of.
Clara and Thorn greet me at the check-in table. They radiate that calm, mentor-y glow like they’ve just meditated themselves into sainthood. I half expect Clara to hand me a crystal and tell me to realign my emotional chakras.
Instead, she smiles gently. “You’re late.”
“Fashionably,” I correct, dropping my duffel with a thud. “I brought those peanut-butter things you like.”
Thorn, tall and elegant in a tunic that probably cost more than my entire college debt, just nods. “We appreciate you coming back, Hazel.”
My heart does that annoying flutter thing. I ignore it.
“You’re assigned to magical creature patrol this season,” Clara adds, her smile sharp now. “And your co-counselor is already settling in.”
“Oh?”
“You’ll be bunking in Cabin Nine with him.”
Wait. Him?
I blink. “Sorry, ‘him’?”
Clara and Thorn exchange the kind of look that means they’ve already decided not to warn me. Classic.
My smile falters just a little. “Not arts programming? Spellcraft mentorship?”
Thorn tilts his head slightly. “We thought this would suit your… energy.”
Translation: they think I’m too much of a hot mess to be trusted near structured spellwork.
I try to laugh. “Sure, nothing saysprofessional witch on her gamelike midnight shifts picking troll lint off toadstools.”
Clara leans in, tone soft. “Hazel… we need someone who can think on their feet.”
I nod. Smile wider. “Of course. I’m flexible. Like magically elastic.”
But inside, my stomach’s doing Cirque du Soleil.
