"And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it." ~ Roald Dahl

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For all those wondering, a phrase contained in the chapter below is not, in fact, a Harry Potter reference. It is completely coincidental; it would be impossible for me to reference something I have never read.

Thank you for reading, and for your support of this novel!

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(Charliegh: unedited)

He was a great.

She was lying on her back, facing the ceiling. The painted plaster sky hovered over her head, colors dim and faded with the passage of time. Everything smelled like hazelnut: the floor, the sheets, the carpet. Even the icy air coming through her open window could not wash away that scent. The smell of him.

Her sister's boyfriend.

She could still hear the thumping and bumping and scraping. She could see, etched in her mind, the expression of Faith's face when she had met Charliegh's eyes. They had been filled with an emotion so powerful it deserved its own category.

There wasn't even a word for it: it was anger, fear, guilt, lust, joy. It was made of broken crayons and paint splatters and spilled glitter. It was everything. Charliegh hated it. That happiness was permeating the apartment. Every night, she could hear them. She wanted to pound on the walls and scream. Stop! Stop! This isn't right! Nothing is right!

He was a great.

She pinched herself. How could she have said that? She was just standing there, trying to ignore how rundown and world weary Price looked these days, and she brought up He Who Should Not Be Named. The pain from that thought was unbearable. Her heart was throbbing.

Ever since That Day, something had been missing. The part that made the throbbing stop, the piece that repelled the pain. Now the pain seemed to linger. It took up residence in her room and her fingertips, in every curvature of her body, nestling into the hollows, blurring through her mind like a slideshow of memories. It was a dull, steady throb.

As much as she hated it, it was something safe and familiar. She didn't know what would happen if it ever left. She would probably break, a china figurine smashing to the floor, thrown the smithereens. Nothing left but painted colors and porcelain pieces.

And the hazelnut. The smell was always around. At first, she had thought it was her new air freshener. Maybe, somehow, whoever concocted the scent of Wonderland thought it smelled like hazelnuts.

When she had plugged it in, she was kind of surprised. It was a letdown. Wonderland should smell like glue, dust, dark magic. The thing you loved most and the thing that made your heart ache. It should smell like good, bad, black, white. Shades of grey.

But, because it said Wonderland, and because it had a picture of Alice on the cover, she braved with the awful scent for months. When it ran out of oil, the smell remained. Charliegh had scrubbed the floor and walls of her room down before she realized that it wasn't the freshener – it was boy who practically lived in the room beside hers.

Charliegh pushed herself up off the bed. Thinking of Asher wasn't going to make the pain go away. Buying ice cream, however, just might. "Faith!" She stood in the hall warily. She wasn't about to walk in on them (again).

Faith stuck her head through the crack in the door. Her glossy brown hair was rumpled, her cheeks flushed pink. She was one of those people who were beautiful when they were caught unawares. The light shone off her dimples, and somehow the twist of her crooked teeth made her charming, instead of chagrined. "What do you want?"

"I'm going to the store. You want anything?"

"Hold on." Faith disappeared back inside her room and repeated the question. Asher said something in his slow, deep voice, and she started giggling. "Asher!"

She reappeared, face bright pink. "No, we're good." Then she was gone, and she wasn't talking anymore.

"Right." Charliegh stood and stared at the closed door. She was contemplating running to their store – the one her dad owned, McGowan Markets – and telling him that Faith had "company". That would put an end to those late-night noises.

Maybe. It was a possibility. It made her feel better that the option was in the cards. If Faith reshuffled the deck, pulling something of Charliegh's back to the surface again, she had fresh ammunition. "Well, I'm off."

"Take your time!" Asher yelled.

Charliegh narrowed her eyes. She hated him. He was Faith, in male form. Arrogant, annoying, beautiful in a strange, ugly sort of way. Not particularly talented, not going anywhere in life. He and Faith would probably end up married, if it wasn't for that fact that they were constantly dumping each other.

Rubbing Faith's back while she sobbed was getting tiring.

Listening to them fraternize was exhausting.

And keeping secrets was getting annoying.

How many more white lies would she have to tell?

God, give me strength. Charliegh stomped over the freshly falling snow on the way to the store. She opted not to visit McGowan Markets. Besides, if she was tempted to rat Faith out she would have to explain why she had been covering for her. And that was something Charliegh didn't understand well enough herself to explain.

The string of bells attached to the doorknob of the convenience store rattled hollowly as she entered. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. The world was bathed in a glaring, unnatural white light, colors too sharp and bright. She wandered through the narrow rows to the freezer section, where refrigerators filled with ice cream stretched across the back wall.  Out of mint chip.

Frowning, Charliegh weighed her options. What could they possibly sell that was better than mint chip?

She ended up buying a tin of Choco-Peanut Butter Swirl, a bag of gummy bears, and a package of spoons. The teenage boy behind the counter, who was listening to Led Zeppelin on the radio and had a suspiciously 80's looking ponytail, kept leering at her. She flew from the store as soon as he gave her a quarter back in change.

Outside, the sky was grey, swollen with clouds. Weak sunlight filtered onto the cracked concrete sidewalks. Town seemed emptier than usual. She stopped to pet a pug that was tied to a fire hydrant along the side of the street. Silence surrounded her, gentle and welcome. The air was fresh and fragrant, noticeably hazelnut free.

When she passed her street, she dug her phone from her pocket to text Sylas.

UP FOR COMPANY?

Her phone buzzed as soon as she pocketed it again.

Sylas: ONLY IF U HVE GMMY BRS

Charliegh: Only 4 U

Sylas: HA. BAND PRAC L8TR. U FREE?

She snapped her phone shut. She still hadn't found a way to tell Sylas about this whole band thing: that she hated the kind of music they played, and how Cale, the drummer, creeped her out. Besides, they played in tiny, dingy coffeehouses, a facet of society that she would prefer to ignore. She liked things structured, abstract. Not cramped and realistic. If she was going to drink coffee, she wanted to do it in a place where she could adequately suspend disbelief. Coffeehouses didn't scream cute or fanciful to her, they screamed underfunded.

Sylas was sitting on the steps outside his house when she arrived. It was a good ten minute walk, which meant a nice chunk of distance between Faith, the trashy boyfriend, and herself.

"Hello." He hugged her. That was the thing Charliegh loved about Sylas – he hugged her. He smelled like cinnamon. He was unconventional, a type of person not many people liked. And he knew everything about her – how Nathaniel Percy broke her heart in fifth grade; how she used to have a hideous mole above her left eyebrow; that she hated the color orange and still managed to love the processed squeeze-y cheese that came in metal cans.

Most importantly, he knew about Faith. It was The Untouched Topic. Most people misunderstood this – they though untouched meant they would be the first to know. Sylas didn't ask any questions. He just sat, elbows on his knees, and sang her slow, sad songs about black vans and cherry trees and inked lines.

"Hey." She said, voice muffled in his chest.

"You didn't answer my text."

She closed her eyes. Did he have to bring it up now? He pulled back, big hands on her forearms.

"So? Do you want to go? We're playing a spot in the city tonight – somewhere nice. We're moving up the ladder, Charliegh!" 

Even if she hated his band, she couldn't hate his dreams. After all, she wanted to have a successful life, too. Saying no for this gig was probably out of the cards. Shuffled away.

"Bottom rung, baby." She gave him a crooked smile. "Promise you won't forget me when you're famous."

He made a face. "Oh, God, Charliegh. I don't want to be famous. We want to record an album. I just...want people to hear me."

"Right," She said, for the second time that day. It seemed to be the perfect standard-answer word for something she didn't understand.

Sylas took the bag of ice cream out of her hands and opened the door. "You know," He said, as they stepped inside, "I think you need to branch out."

"I did!" Charliegh paused to admire the metal elephant statue standing in front of her. It had been a resident member of the King family for as long as she could remember. The wrinkles curved into its tarnished silver skin seemed to sink deeper and darker with time, and by now one of the faux ruby eyes had fallen from its socket. A wooden sign that said I burned my bra at Woodstock dangled from its short, fat trunk.

She kicked her shoes into the glass bowl at its feet.

"What does this mean? A transformation is coming?" Sylas held up the Choco-Peanut Butter Swirl.

"This is me branching out," Charliegh explained. Sylas narrowed his eyes at her. She never made changes involuntarily, being a loyal friend and an even more loyal mint-chip consumer. "Okay, okay, fine! The store was out."

"Tragedy." Sylas started up the stairs. "You only bought one bag of gummy bears?"

"It was for me. I mean...I wasn't going to text you, because..." Charliegh stopped in the doorway of his room, watching him throw the bag on the floor.

Sylas pushed up his sleeves and took a seat on the floor, leaning his back against the edge of his bed. He raised an eyebrow. "Was Asher there?"

Charliegh sunk down next to him. She crossed her legs, Indian-style. "Possibly."

He made a sound of disgust in his throat. "I'm sorry." No geez, why don't you just tell your dad already? Or they should quit. Gratefully, Charliegh leaned her head on his shoulder. His breathing was steady, even. Dependable. Everything with Faith was wrong, mixed up, a ball of thread too knotted together to be untangled.

Sylas ripped open the package of spoons with his teeth. He pulled out the gummy bears, opened the lid of the ice cream, and sprinkled a handful inside. He handed Charliegh a spoon.

"Did I mention I got a new acoustic?"

Charliegh spooned the ice cream/gummy bear concoction into her mouth. The flavors tasted odd together – the thick, creamy edge of the peanut butter not quite matching the sweet, rubbery taste of the candy. "No," she mumbled, mouth full. "Are you using it tonight?"

"Depends." Sylas balanced a gummy bear of the tip of his spoon. He flicked it up in the air, tipped his head back, and caught it between his teeth.

"Upon?"

"Whether or not Nov actually broke his guitar."

Charliegh furrowed her brow. "He did or he didn't."

"Just like you to say that." Sylas bumped her shoulder. "I don't know – I got this voicemail, and he sounded pretty out of it. He kept mumbling about breaking his guitar. I tried to call him back, but he didn't pick up."

"So the gig's cancelled?" Charliegh tried to amend the hopeful tone in her voice. "I mean, you can't play without him, right?"

"Well, we can, because I just got this acoustic. It's my backup guitar now, and I can try it out tonight if I have to give Nov my old one."

Charliegh dug her spoon into the ice cream. The plastic handle kept bending precariously back. It looked ready to snap. "Use it no matter what."

"Hmmph."

She started laughing. "You have to make everything complicated, don't you?"

"I try. Only for you." They finished the ice cream and Charliegh scraped the juice at the bottom off with her spoon. Stomach full, lips tingling, she sighed. For just a second, she let her eyes shut. A warm hand brushed along the side of her face, pushing her mousy hair behind her ear.

"C? You look tired."

"I can't sleep anymore." She murmured. "They make too much noise."

Sylas sighed. He knew, without words, exactly who she was talking about. "Stay here tonight. I'll drive you to school tomorrow."

"You don't have a car."

"We can bike. Please?" When she stared at him, she saw that his green eyes were filled with concern.

"What am I going to tell dad?"

"Tell him I need help with Lennon tonight. Janis left for a high school reunion this morning anyways, and she told me to keep a close eye on him."

"Sylas, you can't bring him to the gig."

"No." He winked at her. "But you can."

Defeated, Charliegh crossed her arms over her chest. "Fine. Because I love Lennon."

Sylas smirked. "Because my baby brother is such asweetheart."

"He is! I mean, he can be." Charliegh stretched out her legs, brushing crumbs off her jeans. She collected the empty container, the candy packet, and the extra spoons, shoving them back into the bag. Going to an indie performance and watching a spoiled five-year-old was bad, but not as bad as going home and lying in her cold, hard bed, listening to her sister fall in love on the other side of the wall.

Sylas hugged her again when she was finished. He had ice cream smeared on his sweater, and his stubble scratched her temple. "It'll work out, C."

And she knew he wasn't just talking about the concert and the night. He was talking about The Untouchable Topic and The Failure. Mistakes made, lessons learned. Except, Charliegh didn't want this chapter of her life to become a lesson. She wanted it to be a resolution, for the problems that had been unleashed to slip back into their cages of Sin and Sorrow and Immortality.

She wanted a happy ending. But, Alice never had a happy ending.

She woke up after finding something magical to discover it was all just a dream.

***

    Paper Marks & Pencil Hearts was, in a positive word, poetic.

Sylas had a beautiful voice – Charliegh had always know this. But it amazed her how soulful he sounded, sitting on a teetering stool in front of a coffeehouse smaller than his living room. He strummed away on his new acoustic, which was a beautiful guitar in its own right. It was a rich, cherry color, fine-boned yet sturdy. The strap, woven of macabre beads, was currently resting against Sylas's slim shoulder.

He looked like that guitar tonight: fine-boned and sturdy. His sweater pulled snug on his shoulders, the holes for his thumbs and the edge of his moccasin shoes giving an artful appearance. He had shaven, and light played off the gentle curves of his cheekbones and jaw. His thick, dark eyebrows almost drew together as he sang – head thrown back, a smile on his lips. 

Set against a dingy background, he and his rag-tag group of musicians looked almost cohesive. Each – like Nov, with his bandana and ripped pants – had their own appearance of careful chaos. They howled and hummed and tugged on their guitar strings until their fingers were red.

Charliegh could almost feel the blood, the tears, the sheer honesty in the music that reverberated around the small room. When Cale, his auburn hair falling into his eyes, smiled at her during the chorus, she decided that he wasn't creepy – he was quiet. It was the quietness the got her, how he walked with his head down and talked with his eyes.

Perhaps he was less of a pervert and more of a genuine musician – someone who looked at the whole world as an experience to be tuned.

Lennon, perched upon a barstool, short legs swinging, was half-asleep. There was a crust of chocolate on his upper lip from the caffeine-free-mocha-something Charliegh had bought him, and his blueberry scone was lying in pieces on the napkin in front of him.

As the band started into a new song, Charliegh wondered how much Sylas really knew about heartbreak. He was up there singing like his heart had been ripped from his chest, but as far as she knew, he had only been on a few miscellaneous dates.

He'd have told her if there was a girl.

When that day came, she'd probably sense a rift between them forming, pressure from the girl he loved to leave the girl he knew alone. She'd like to think a girl wouldn't do that – come between them – and that Sylas wouldn't let that happen. But, this was life. It would happen because it happened to everyone else.

Just because she was Charliegh Bajus and he was Sylas King didn't mean they would elude the inevitable ending to everything.

Thank you. Vaguely, Charliegh heard the music stopping. There was scattered applause, and then Sylas was down off his stool. It was over. He ambled towards her.

"What'd you think?" He asked. He leaned around her to order a latte. His face was flushed and his eyes were bright. His hands shook as he accepted his drink.

"It was beautiful." She told him honestly.

"Really?" He broke into a broad smile. "Thanks. Lennon fell asleep?"

"Yeah. Poor little guy. He was exhausted." Charliegh shook Lennon's shoulder lightly, trying to wake him.

"Here, I got it." Sylas picked his brother up gently. He carried him out to the car, unlocked it, and deposited him in the back seat. "Lemme just say goodnight to the guys and grab my guitar."

Charliegh opened the door and slid a seatbelt over Lennon's tiny form. Through the frosty window she saw Sylas emerge from the coffeehouse, guitar in hand. He loaded the guitar, case, and backup guitar in the car next to Lennon.

"Ladies first." He opened the passenger door for Charliegh, then went around to the other side.

"You really thought it was beautiful?" He asked as they pulled away.

Charliegh glanced in the rearview mirror. Lennon was sleeping peacefully, lips curved up in a smile. He looked so innocent. She wondered how he heard the music – if he heard it at all.

"Yes. You looked so natural up there."

Sylas was silent for the rest of the drive, but it was a peaceful, easy silence. Charliegh was almost lulled to sleep herself by the time they pulled into his driveway. They changed Lennon into his footy pajamas and tucked him to bed. Sylas retrieved a blanket from the linen closet, and Charliegh stripped the comforter off his bed to make a bed on the floor. She slipped off her coat, shoes, and socks, and ran her fingers through her tangled hair.

"Goodnight, Sylas."

He was lying on his bed shirtless, facing the ceiling. One hand was tucked underneath his head. He turned to face her, smiling slightly. The moonlight caught the white in his teeth and reflected off his eyes. "Night, C. Thanks for coming to the gig tonight."

"Thanks for helping me."

He reached down at the same time she reached up, and he wove his fingers through hers. He looked down into her eyes. "I'm sorry, again."

"Stop." Charliegh fought the tears that sprung suddenly. She was safe, and half-asleep, and now images of Asher and Faith flooded her mind. "Stop saying sorry. You didn't cause it. You can't stop it."

"I know." He gripped her hand more tightly. "I know."

She inhaled shakily. "Do you?" Did anyone? They all were sorry – Sylas was one of many. Everybody was so sorry when they had nothing to be sorry for. She just wanted recompense. She wanted Faith and Asher to understand what it was like to be driven from your own home. She wanted justice. And most of all, she wanted forgiveness.

Even though The Greatest Mistake was yet to come.