Messages from Maisie's family

You're quite sullen for the rest of the day, and the next.

It's about 5pm the second day that someone calls your phone. It's Maisie's mom, Mary. She's Mrs. Peterson to most people your age, but she's long since insisted that you call her by name.

You've hung around Maisie so long that you know Mary pretty well, but you don't want to connect to Maisie's family. Not now, maybe not ever. You let it ring through like a proper Gen Z. What is this, the late 1900s?

You notice that Mary has left a voicemail. You don't listen.

The next day you see that Mary has sent you an SMS. You leave it unread.

The week is a bit of a blur. You're unhappy about what happened with Maisie, but also you're a bit shocked that magic is real. Daily life seems a bit strange to care about now. Still, you go through the motions.

The Tuesday after the 'incident', you head to your car in the car park, only to be confronted by Mary.

"Simon," she says to you. "We need to talk."

You sigh. "Mary... I'm sorry. But what is there to talk about?"

Mary fixes you with a surprisingly concerned stare. "A lot more than you realise, Simon." She regards you. "Maisie says that she told you about the curse."

You tense up, defensive. But you see no reason to deny it. "Yes."

"And you put a pink streak in her hair."

"Yes," you reply, slightly defiant.

"And that's all you did," she added, slightly more gently.

You're taken by surprise, and hesitate. "... Yes," you say. "And told her never to contact me again," you add.

Mary grimaced. "Yes, she did say that," she agreed. "I'm not here to act as a go-between, though. There's a lot more to the family... curse..." she said, looking around to make sure no-one could overhear, "... than she would have known to tell you."

"Look, Mary," you say impatiently but not unkindly, "I'm a bit upset with how Maisie treated me. I'd kind of like to put it behind me. I like you, and I liked Maisie, but I don't think I want to talk to her again."

Mary looked grim. "Simon, Maisie told me what happened. You're absolutely right to be upset, and I've tried to get Maisie to see how what she did was not okay. But I'm not here for Maisie's sake. I'm here because you're in danger."

You roll your eyes. "How?"

Mary grimaces. "This curse is more complicated than Maisie told you. If you don't... use it, on Maisie, sometimes... the curse will start to hurt you."

You sigh. "What? Hurt me how?"

"Look," Mary says. "I know this sounds crazy. But I'm hoping you remember what it was like when Maisie told you. Did that seem real to you?"

You begrudgingly accept that it did.

"I'm telling you, that Maisie has put you in a more complicated situation than she realised. I like you, Simon, you're a good kid. The proof is in the way you let Maisie go. But your life is going to end in torment unless you talk to Maisie again, and there's not a thing I can do about that but to try to get you and Maisie together."

You don't have any idea what to say to that. It sounds bonkers, but then so did the original thing Maisie told you, and it turned out to be true.

"What are your plans for dinner Thursday?" Mary asks.

You puff. "Nothing important. What do you have in mind?"

Mary looks to you. "I hope you might come to ours for dinner. I, John, Maisie, Holly, and Holly's friend Sasha will all be there," she said, indicating her husband, her older daughter, and some apparently very close friend. "We need to have a serious conversation about the curse, for your sake as much as anyone else's." She regards you. "Please say that you'll come."

You can't really say no in this situation. "Okay," you reply.

Mary smiled a grim smile. "I'm glad. You're a good person, Simon, and I only hope that you and Maisie can patch things up." She opens her arms for a hug, which you accept.

"And can you answer me when I leave you messages, Simon?" she mutters. "Goddamn, if I hadn't found you today I'm not sure what my next plan would be."

You chuckle ruefully. "Okay, Mary, sure. For old times sake."

She releases you from the hug and gives you a serious look. "For your own damned sake, Simon, and don't you forget it." She nods, and the corners of her mouth perk up. "See you Thursday."