Spellbound: A magical sequel to Bewitched by Daisy Prescott

me?”
    Sam studies her nails. “Look, I don’t want to gossip about my best friend.”
    “Understandable.” I’m not going to force her to break Madison’s trust.
    “But I will say that up until you started acting like a weirdo, she talked about you all the time. Honestly, it was pretty sickening in a super sweet doughnut kind of way.”
    I nod along although I have no idea what she means. I’m happy enough to hear Madison talks about me constantly to not bother figuring out the doughnut analogy. Sometimes I worry my feelings aren’t reciprocated.  
    “A happy occasion could be a good thing for the two of you. Everyone loves a birthday party. It’s probably the cake. Does Tate like cake?”
    “As far as I know he’s not anti-cake. I’ll invite him.” I save her the embarrassment of having to ask.
    “I’ll need you to ask Madison out on a date to get her to the party. Do you think you can handle that?” The worry in her eyes dampens my confidence.
    “I’ll be so charming she won’t be able to resist.”
    “Are you going to use magic?” Sam’s face reveals her excitement. Her eyes practically pop out of her head and she’s grinning.  
    I’m not sure how much she knows about the old witches of Salem and our magic. I lighten my tone and smile at her to let her know I might be joking. “No magic necessary. I can be charming and nice without invoking ancient spells.”
    “Is there a spell you can use as back up?”
    Remaining silent, I stare at her in response.  
    “Right. Sure. I’m sure everything will be fine.” She beams confidently at me. I can see why Tate likes her. Even when faced with negativity and impossibility, she somehow manages to create her own sunshine. “I’ll see you and Tate on Saturday.”
    With a chipper wave, she leaves.
    I scowl at the Doctor Who Tardis poster on the back of the door. What would the Doctor do?
    * * *
    Following my mother’s advice after the coffee incident, Madison and I spend most nights chatting on the phone. Old school, but it’s the only way we can have a conversation without me snarling at anyone who gets close to her or pawing at her like a monkey with a pet kitten. Sadly, this is probably the best we can do until the curse is broken. Or she breaks up with me. I’m beginning to think the latter is eminent. We’re long distance dating across a small college campus.  
    I’ve even moved seats in Philips’ class after our meeting with him. Hamilton happily assumed the empty chair next to her meant he should occupy it. Earlier this week he loaned her a pen, my old move. I’m sure there are indentations in the old wood table from my nails digging into the underside as I’ve tried to resist punching him whenever he opens his mouth or looks at her.
    Tonight’s conversation has moved on from the daily update to our families. If she isn’t scared away from my terrible mood and behavior, there’s nothing left to lose by telling her the truth about my family.
    “I changed my name to my mother’s maiden name when I turned eighteen and returned to Salem. My father couldn’t control me anymore and I’ve always felt more like a Wildes than a Bradford.”
    “Like the Mayflower Bradfords?” she asks.
    “The same. My father can recite each generation and connection by memory. He’s obsessed with history and tradition.”
    “You’re old school New England.”
    I grin to myself. “The oldest.”
    “My grandmother will have such a crush on your lineage. She loves the old families.” She giggles.  
    “I hope to meet her some day.”
    “Careful what you wish for. She’ll ask you a million questions.”
    “I have relatives who fought in Concord and Lexington, too.”
    “Watch out. She’ll ply you with caramels and make you sit next to her on the couch.”
    “Should I be worried she’ll try to steal me away from you?”
    “I’m younger and quicker.”
    “How would she feel about me if she knew I was a witch?”
    She pauses and I swear I