I think about the ant Barron told me I never turned into a stick. I can’t remember what I did do.
I look around the room. The sword I found when I was cleaning out the living room is right where I left it, leaning against the wall. I pick it up, feel the weight, as though I am distant from my body. I note the rust running down the blade. The sword feels heavy in my hands, not like the light fencing foils at school.
If you love me, cut off my head.
“Lila,” I said. “I don’t know how to change you.”
She pads to the edge of the table and jumps onto the floor. Surreal. Everything is surreal. None of this is happening.
“I am thinking of doing something to force myself. Something crazy. To force the magic.”
This is stupid. Someone has to stop me. She has to stop me.
She rubs her cheek agai
