When We Were Magic by Sarah Gailey (best books to read non fiction TXT) 📕

lost. Their old memories, their dreams, their tears, their ability to forget new things, and the person who they’ve come to understand themselves to be.” She looks at Iris on this last note, and Iris’s eyes turn glassy. “And that’s only half of the changes,” Maryam continues. “Whatever else happens … all of it together would turn you into a completely new person, wouldn’t it?”

“It’s like a Ship of Theseus,” Iris whispers.

“A what?” Roya asks.

“Yeah,” Marcelina says, nodding fast, excited. “Yeah, it’s totally like that.”

“What is that?” Paulie asks.

“It’s this thing,” Iris says, looking at Marcelina for confirmation that it is indeed a thing, “where you have a ship, right? And you replace the sails, but it’s still the same ship. And then you replace some of the planks, but it’s still the same ship. And then you replace all the oars, but it’s still the same ship. And then you replace some of the other planks …”

“But it’s still the same ship?” Paulie interjects dryly.

“Is it?” Marcelina asks, grinning. Paulie’s brow furrows. “It’s like a thought experiment. When does the ship stop being the original ship and turn into a whole new ship? Is it when there’s just one old plank left? Or two? Or three? Or is it the second you replace the sails?”

“I think I get it,” Roya says. “So … we’re all still us, even though we lost things. But maybe if Alexis took this all on herself like a big stupid idiot, she’d lose too many things, and then she wouldn’t be herself anymore.”

“Okay,” I say, half-annoyed. “I get it, you think I’m wrong.”

“We think you had the worst idea in the history of ideas,” Marcelina corrects me. “We think you’re the most wrong that anyone has ever been.”

“But we still love you,” Roya adds. “And we still want you to be you. Not whatever might be left of you after you try to take this whole thing on by yourself.” She bumps her shoulder against mine, and I feel heat climbing my neck.

“This sucks and it’s really hard, but we’re in it together,” Iris says, and her voice carries a firm finality that settles over the group like a thick fog. “Right?”

“Right,” we all say, sort of together. I feel like I’m going to cry, so I reach out my hands and let a tiny spark of my magic go out to each of the girls in turn. It’s not much, but it should give them a little bit of energy, a little bit of joy, a little bit of warmth. They each smile at me as they feel it.

“Besides,” Iris says, “we’re going to bring him back, right? Once we’ve gotten rid of all the pieces and the heart is beating again, we can bring Josh back, and then maybe we’ll all get the things we lost back too.”

“Oh shit, yeah,” Paulie breathes. “That might work, huh?”

“I don’t know, guys,” Maryam says, her brow furrowing. “It’s not like bringing him back is going to undo what you did. It’s just going to—you know what?” She interrupts herself, shaking her head. “Never mind. It could work. It could totally work.”

“It could totally work,” Marcelina whispers.

“It could totally work,” Roya echoes. “And then we can all go back to normal. Now, do you think I have time to get another burrito from the burrito-lady before the bell rings?” As if to answer her, the lunch bell drones, and the cafeteria is filled with the sound of scraping chairs and sneaker-squeaks and voices shouting about where to meet after school. “Damn it,” she mutters.

We all say goodbye, and a moment like this should feel fraught and tense, but it doesn’t. It feels comfortable. It feels like things are going to be okay. Like they’re really, actually going to be okay.

Although, I have to admit, I don’t think I’ll ever go back to feeling normal again.

Roya gives me a hug before she goes, and I can smell her hair and her body wash, vanilla and mint. My fingertips tingle. I squeeze her close, and she doesn’t let go of me either, and for the space of a caught breath I wonder if maybe she wants to hang on as badly as I do. I wonder if maybe—

But then she pulls away, and she says “See you tomorrow,” and then she’s stepping past me, and her hair is brushing my shoulder, and something in my chest aches.

“See you,” I call. I don’t turn to see her go, because even though things feel okay—even though I know I’m not alone—I don’t know if she’s going to look back at me. I’m so scared that she won’t look back.

When I get out of my last class of the day, Paulie is waiting for me. She’s leaning against a locker with sunglasses on and a lollipop stick between her teeth, and she looks so much like Danny Zuko that I stop dead in my tracks and start laughing. She grins, which makes it even worse, and then she looks over her sunglasses and winks at me, and there are tears streaming down my cheeks by the time I manage to catch my breath.

“Are you grounded?” she asks once I’ve regained my composure.

“No, why?”

“Because I want to finish what we started the other day,” she says. “Vis-à-vis the thing in my trunk.”

“I can probably go. Let me text my dads,” I answer, even as I’m trailing her out of the school and to her car. We stand outside the car with the doors open, letting the oven-hot interior air out for a couple of minutes. By the time it’s cool enough to get inside without melting, I’ve already gotten a reply. Have fun, thanks for checking in, love you! from Pop, and Be home by ten from Dad. I send them a string of kissy-face emojis and we get into the car. Paulie blasts the air-conditioning, and I buckle up and brace myself for another traumatizing ride.

“How’d today feel?” I ask,