There’s a folding table against the wall to our left, laden with chips, vegetables, and store-bought iced Christmas cookies. Mikaela heads straight for the food, ignoring a few lingering stares. Her eyebrows are mildly raised as if she’s the one in charge, as if everyone else is beneath her notice. I envy her for that; I feel like diving under the table.
Then Cody saunters in.
“Sunny, Mikaela. Hey,” he says casually, as if this is all completely normal.
“Hi,” I say. He flashes a sly smile in my direction and I get a not-unpleasant lurch in the pit of my stomach. Still, I’m not sure what I’m expected to do, so I join Mikaela at the food table and pour myself that glass of champagne.
“Hey, people,” I hear Cody say in a louder voice, “these are the friends I was telling you about. You know, Mikaela and Sunny?” I’m not sure if it’s my imagination, but it seems like he puts a little more emphasis on my name. He meets my eyes, and my mouth goes a little dry. I search his face; I want to know what he’s thinking. But his expression is mild, unreadable.
Mikaela strides confidently over to one of the groups. I follow more slowly, and sip my drink. People shuffle around on the threadbare, institutional-gray carpet, making room for us.
A thirtyish woman in a dark-blue gauzy dress introduces herself as Rennie. “Welcome to the Canyon Wiccan Circle’s annual solstice party,” she says. “We’re just chatting and enjoying the food before we officially get started.” Her gaze lingers on me for a second, her eyes the artificial dark green of specialty contact lenses, and I fidget uncomfortably. Cody hangs his black raincoat on a chair in the corner and stands next to me. The soft, dark fabric of his button-down shirt brushes the bare skin of my wrist. I can smell his clove cigarettes.
I take a bigger swig of champagne.
There are a few perfunctory introductions, and then people start talking again. Obviously they all know each other, and Cody is nodding and smiling at whatever Rennie’s saying like he totally gets it. I wonder if he hangs out with these people a lot.
I wonder if he hangs out with Antonia. The thought makes my brain want to implode. Rather than pondering the Cody-Antonia connection, I tune back in to the conversation.
“I know, I know, I saw him on Saturday. He totally gave me the brush-off,” says this tall guy—Jake? Jeff?—in a loud voice. He’s wearing a purple cloak, pinned at the neck with a silver pentagram. Underneath, he’s wearing a T-shirt and jeans, an ensemble that strikes me as goofy. Nobody else is dressed that way, not even Head Witch Rennie, or whatever her official title is.
I elbow Mikaela and whisper, “I was told there would be no capes.” She pinches my arm surreptitiously. I can tell she’s trying not to laugh.
Jeff/Jake continues his rant. “He thinks he’s all cool be-cause he works at the Ren Faire, but it’s really just an excuse to act like a snob.”
“Well, you know that guy he’s always hanging out with? The one who goes to Faire in black leather armor?” Rennie says this in almost an undertone, leaning forward. The rest of the group leans in eagerly. “I think that’s his boyfriend.”
“Nuh-uh, I could have sworn he was straight!” Jake/Jeff shakes his head. There are gasps all around. I sneak a sideways glance at Cody, who looks a little bored. Gossip: not what I expected out of the evening.
I don’t know what I thought would happen, though. Reciting odes to the passing of the seasons? Mixing potions out of eye of newt?
I nudge Mikaela with my left shoulder. “Hey,” I whisper. “Check out Antonia.” Antonia is standing in the doorway, watching the party and beaming. She’s holding yet another platter of cookies, and after a minute of standing there with that inane smile, she approaches the food table and sets it down.
“Here’s my contribution to the evening. I’m so glad you decided to hold your celebration here! Let me know if you have any questions about solstice traditions. We have some wonderful books in the store about—”
“Thanks so much,” Rennie butts in, stopping the monologue. Obviously she’s dealt with Antonia before. “It’s great. Really. I’ll let you know if we need anything.”
“Okay, well, you have a beautiful time, and I wish I could join you but I have to watch the store—oh, and don’t forget to try my vegan solstice cookies,” Antonia chirps, her voice fading into the distance as she bustles out of the room.
Cody goes over and closes the door after her. Everyone else gradually sits down in a large, irregular circle on the carpet. Rennie produces a huge green candle from her bag and lights the four wicks before placing it in the center of the circle, then lights a stick of Nag Champa incense, which makes the room smell like my Pakistani grandma’s house. She puts a few more items down: a prickly branch of holly complete with shiny red berries, a wilted sprig of mistletoe, a fragrant pine bough.
Rennie stands. Everyone else does, too. Mikaela and I look at each other, then at Cody. He gives us this serious look, almost concerned, then turns his attention back to Rennie, who spreads her arms wide and strikes a dramatic pose. Maybe things are finally going to get interesting.
“We are here at today’s Yuletide solstice,” she intones, “to celebrate the rebirth of the God to the Goddess, in this darkest hour of winter. O God and Goddess, see our sacred fires and bless us with peace and prosperity in the newly reborn season!” She continues in the same vein for another minute, and then there’s a moment of silence, in which everyone except me and Mikaela has their eyes closed and seems to be swaying slightly. Then Rennie opens her eyes and says, “Blessed be your solstice and fertile be your springtide.” I hide a smirk. This is more like what I expected, but it still seems kind of hokey.
Soon, everyone is standing up, smiling and hugging each other and saying “Good Yule to you.” It reminds me of the time I went to Catholic mass with Grandma and Grandpa Pryce in Phoenix and everyone was shaking hands and saying “Peace be with you,” only this time there’s a lot more black clothing and pentagrams.
“She writes her own ritual invocations,” Cody says quietly to me. “Pretty cool, right? I’ve been asking her about joining a real coven somewhere, a bigger group like the one in L.A. that doesn’t have so many posers.”
“Wow,” Mikaela says. She seems impressed, or at least she’s pretending to be. I don’t even know what a coven entails, so I just nod and smile.
A few minutes pass, and the party fragments into small groups again. Rennie and the older, more serious-looking Wiccans are hanging out by the food table. Cody, Mikaela, and I are standing with two girls and three guys who look about our age, hovering near a back door that’s been propped with a book so it’s slightly ajar. An icy breeze drifts through the opening.
The guy standing on Cody’s right pulls out a leather drawstring bag and rummages around in it.
My heart starts beating a little faster. Now what? The more imaginative part of my mind pictures some kind of weird bloodletting ritual with candles, a stained silver knife, and people chanting. Apparently, though, I’ve been watching too many bad movies. The guy pulls out a pipe made of blown glass shot through with swirly colors. As if it’s no big deal to be doing this with Antonia right there in the next room, he starts packing it with really pungent-smelling pot. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rennie glance over and frown, then shrug at Jake/Jeff and the other guy she’s talking to.
I shift uneasily, wondering if Antonia’s going to notice and if she would tell my parents. I don’t even know what would happen if she did.
The pipe makes its way around the circle. Part of me is cringing at how lame this is, how much it reminds me of something my parents might do. But another part of me can’t help feeling an illicit thrill.