“I’m still leaning toward that first one.”
There were screams from outside, and everyone turned to listen for a moment before going back to trying on dresses. Then there was silence. I didn’t hear the kind of shouting that likely would have come with the real cops. No one told everyone to freeze and put their hands up, or anything like that. It was more like all the combatants had suddenly decided they were done fighting.
The vote among my friends was unanimous on behalf of the dress I’d liked, so I held on to that one and my friends headed out to return the others to the racks. When I emerged from the fitting room, everything seemed pretty calm. There were no voices raised, no fireballs being flung. I spotted a gargoyle sitting in the rafters and felt a hint of magic, so I suspected there had been some magical help in calming things down. People hadn’t just suddenly become reasonable on their own.
While I waited for the register, the woman in line behind me said, “You did notice all that, didn’t you?”
“You mean the scuffle?” I asked, hoping she wouldn’t say, “No, the gargoyles who stopped the fight.” Then again, we were always on the lookout for magical immunes, so I’d know we’d found a good candidate if she saw it all and was still reasonably calm.
“Yeah. I’ve seen fights at sales like this, and they didn’t get this crazy.”
“Well, wedding gowns are expensive, so there’s more incentive to do whatever it takes to grab the one you want.”
“But they didn’t have to use their hands to grab. I swear, one time the gown literally flew from one person to the other. Another time, it just poofed away and then reappeared. Like magic.”
“Magic?” I said, trying to pour as much disbelief as possible into my voice. It took all my acting ability, since I was so steeped in magic. I’d even briefly had magical powers. At the same time, I felt bad for trying to make her think that something she’d seen for herself wasn’t real, when I knew it was.
“I don’t know what else to call it. And it’s not the first time I’ve seen something like that.”
Now she really had my attention. She wasn’t just speculating based on this event. “Oh?” I said.
She leaned in closer and whispered. “Yes. This kind of thing goes on all the time in this city, but no one ever talks about it. I think a lot of it has to do with how focused New Yorkers are on their own business. They either don’t see crazy stuff at all or they pretend not to see it so no one thinks they’re a tourist. But then I also think there’s someone cleaning it all up so there won’t be any evidence.”
I would have thought she was a crazy conspiracy theorist if I hadn’t known she was absolutely right. “Clean it up?” I asked, curious about what she’d noticed.
“Like this.” She gestured with the arm that didn’t have a wedding gown draped over it. “One minute, there’s a magical war raging out there. Next thing you know, all is calm, like it never happened. I bet most of the other people who weren’t involved in the fight have already convinced themselves that it’s just wacky sample sale hijinks.”
I noticed that she hadn’t mentioned gargoyles swooping down with magical happy dust to make the combatants forget their fight. That was good. “Maybe they just got a dose of perspective,” I said with a shrug. “You’ve got to admit, it is kind of silly to get that worked up over a wedding dress.”
“Have you looked at the prices?”
Only then did it occur to me that I’d selected a dress without even looking at the price tag. I really had been distracted. Screwing up my courage, I found the tag. The manufacturer’s suggested price nearly gave me a heart attack. It wasn’t much lower than my annual salary when I’d been working for my family’s business. That price had been marked through, and several more prices below that were marked through. There was a final number written in red that I still thought was too much to pay for a single dress, but that was better than I’d expected after reading all the bridal magazines Gemma had dumped on me, and I had to admit that this dress was much better than what I’d planned to wear. “Okay, maybe that is worth blacking someone’s eye for,” I admitted. “I’m lucky no one else wanted this dress and tried to take it away from me.”
“And you’re really lucky it wasn’t some person with magical powers who wanted it,” she said, her voice grim. She reached into the outer pocket of her purse and brought out a business card, which she handed to me. “Here, if you’re interested in tracking this sort of thing, check out this blog. We’re putting together a body of evidence to prove magic’s real, and maybe soon we’ll have enough to get someone’s attention.”
“Do you really think it’s that dangerous?” I asked. Visions of the witch trials we’d studied in history class danced through my head, making my stomach clench. The idea took on a whole new meaning now that I had so many friends who might be affected by a real witch hunt.
“Someone could have been seriously hurt out there. Plus, if people have magical powers, it gives them all kinds of unfair advantages. They can break the laws of physics, so it’s not even like someone being smarter or more athletic than others. It’s on a whole different level. Think about it.”
I had no idea how to respond to that. I wasn’t comfortable stating that magic wasn’t real, since that was a lie, but defending magic would mean admitting I knew it was real, and that was strictly forbidden. My friends joined me once their mission was complete, saving me from having to answer. There was too much chatter from them for me to interact with the random woman in line.
Soon afterward, I reached the register where, much to my surprise, the final price rang up at another thirty percent off the lowest price on the tag. “Wow!” I exclaimed. That was good enough that I didn’t even freak out when handing over my credit card.
“See, I told you there were good deals here,” Gemma said. “But don’t you dare tell Owen what you paid for the wedding gown. Leave that much a mystery.”
“Can I tell my mother?” I hated to get this kind of bargain without getting to gloat over it with someone who’d appreciate it.
“Yeah, tell your mother. The discount might be enough to make up for any disappointment about you not wearing her dress.”
In all the excitement about my great deal, I completely forgot about the woman I’d been talking to. I put her card in my purse when I got out my credit card and didn’t give her another thought.
We wrestled the bulky garment bag home on the subway, and when we got back to our apartment, I tried the dress on again with more appropriate undergarments—though Gemma said I’d want to buy all new things for the occasion, even if I did already have a strapless bra that would work. The gown looked even better when not worn over leggings and a tank top. “Now, aren’t you glad you listened to me?” Gemma asked.
“Yes,” I said, not even grudgingly. This gown was so much more “me” than my mother’s dress was, and it was a lot more comfortable, with no itchy lace.
I was still wearing the dress when the intercom buzzed from the front door downstairs. “Hey, it’s Owen,” a scratchy voice said over the speaker.
All of us squealed, and I ran for my bedroom, Gemma and Nita at my heels. I heard Marcia say, “You’re going to have to wait a moment.”