15
Signs
Miranda
Simon hadn’t tried to kiss me after we got back from our dinner at Geronimo. I didn’t really know why, even though I’d halfway expected him to. But all he’d done was praise my performance again, then suggest we have some ice cream and watch a movie, which was exactly what we did. I had to admit that it was a good way to end the evening, a way to relax and exhale, and realize I’d managed to survive the ordeal. No, “ordeal” was probably the wrong way to think of that particular experience. Dinner itself had been wonderful, and although seeing the Castillo witch and warlock had been stressful, I’d passed the test. They’d had no idea who I was. If I wanted to, I could put on some appropriate illusion, hide my magical nature, and walk among them without them ever knowing.
P
