She took the plate to the kitchen and scraped the remaining stir-fry into the trash. She’d have to wash the plate too. Couldn’t have her mom finding out just how badly she’d screwed up while trying to show off. After stowing the plate in the cabinet, Laurel took one more look at her father, snoring away at the table. She hoped he would wake up in the morning. She had no idea what she would do if he didn’t.

“I am the lamest faerie ever.”

ELEVEN

A WEEK INTO SCHOOL, LAUREL WALKED TOWARD Mark’s Bookshelf with David, her hand in his, their arms swinging in the last warm gasps of summer. With a kiss he peeled off to head to his job at the pharmacy and Laurel opened the door to the bookstore, a cheery chime sounding as she did.

Maddie looked up at her with a broad smile. “Laurel,” she said brightly, the way she did every time she saw her. It was a constant in her life that Laurel loved. No matter what was happening with her parents, or trolls, or Avalon, or whatever, Maddie was always behind the counter at the bookstore, ready with a smile and a hug.

Laurel laughed as Maddie squeezed her tightly. “Where’s my dad?” she asked, looking around.

“In the back,” Maddie said. “Inventory.”

“As usual,” Laurel said, heading toward the swinging doors at the back of the store.

“Hey, Dad,” she said with a smile as he looked up at her. Even though she doubted it was necessary, she’d been watching him closely. He hadn’t come out of his stonewort-induced nap until eight o’clock the following morning. Aside from a sore neck, he seemed unaffected. Her mom had chastised him for both working too hard and staying up too late, but luckily she hadn’t seemed suspicious beyond that. Still, Laurel had stayed out of her parents’ food since then. Better safe than sorry.

She slid onto a chair across from the computer and fingered a small stack of bookmarks.

“How was school?” her dad asked.

“Fine,” Laurel said with a grin. “Easy.” After Avalon, everything seemed easy. Seven hours of school a day? No problem. An hour or two of study each night? Piece of cake. Her trip to Avalon had improved Laurel’s entire attitude toward human schooling. If only they had more skylights.

“Do you need any help today?” Laurel asked, looking around at the back room.

“Not really,” her dad said, standing straight and stretching his back. “Actually, I’ve been catching up on my paperwork, it’s been so slow.” He looked out the small window behind his desk. “Gorgeous day. Apparently people would rather be outside enjoying the weather instead of finding something to read at the stuffy old bookstore.”

“Your store’s not stuffy,” Laurel said with a laugh. She paused for a moment. “Do you think maybe Mom needs some help?” she asked without meeting his eyes.

He looked up at her for a second, then asked casually, “Do you need money?”

Laurel shook her head. “No, I thought…I thought maybe…it could help make things better between us, less tense. Maybe we’ve both been waiting for the other to make the first move,” she said, her voice low.

Her dad paused, his fingers poised above the keyboard. Then he took off his glasses, walked around the desk, and hugged her. “Way to be proactive,” he said in her ear. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks.” Laurel shouldered her backpack and turned to wave just before heading toward the front of the store. She took a deep breath, forced herself not to hesitate any longer, and walked next door to Nature’s Cure. In the weeks since Laurel returned from Avalon she’d only been in her mom’s store a few times, and the attention to detail never failed to impress her. She pushed the front door open and instead of a mechanical chime, the corner of the door hit a small silver bell that tinkled softly. Potted plants filled the windowsills, and a serenity fountain gurgled in the corner where it sat in a small Zen garden. There were even sparkly crystal prisms strung up in the window. Laurel took a moment to touch one, pleased that her mother had taken a decoration idea from Laurel’s room to use at her store. Despite the current tension with her mom, Laurel suspected she would enjoy working here even more than at the bookstore—which was saying something.

Laurel turned as her mom came through a bead curtain from the back room, lugging a large box. Her face was a little red and she was breathless. “Oh, Laurel, it’s you. Good. I can put this down for a second.” She plopped the large box down in the middle of the floor and wiped her brow. “You’d think they would send this stuff in smaller boxes. So what did you need?” her mom asked, bending over and sliding the box across the floor instead of lifting it.

“I just came to see if you needed help. Things are slow next door,” she added, and then wished she hadn’t. She didn’t want her mom to feel like her second choice.

“Oh,” her mom said, smiling in a way that at least looked genuine. “That would be perfect. I’m stocking today and I can always use an extra hand.” She laughed. “Your dad gets employees; I’m not to that point yet.”

“Great,” Laurel said, shedding her backpack and coming to stand by the new shipment. Her mom explained the contents of the box—most of which Laurel was familiar with from years of living with a naturopath—and then showed her the system of tags on the shelves that she could match with the bottles and boxes.

“I’m going to go fill out the invoice and start preparing my order for next week, but you just holler if you need any help, okay?”