Spells Trouble

the best feelings in the world.
“Mercy’s here,” Hunter said as she clipped her pen to the cover of her journal. Another writing day gone with nothing to show. At least tonight, if she could muster the courage to get through the midnight ceremony, would more than make up for it.
Emily lifted her cup to the sky and tipped her chin toward the sun. “Let’s get this party started!”

Two
“Let’s get this par-tay started!” Mercy danced her way down the dock to where her bestie and her sister were stretched out in the chaise lounges. She raised her hands over her head and rolled her hips back and forth in a classic belly-dancing move that had the fringe belt she’d made and slung low on her hips rippling like water over the boyfriend jeans she’s spent months freehand embroidering vines and flowers all over. Her shirt was a retro halter top—the same pink as the fringe around her waist, and her long, dark hair was thick and loose around her shoulders—her fav way to wear it. The big, worn leather boho purse she always carried was over her shoulder and her hip bumped it like a tambourine. Mercy felt as good as she looked, and she knew how good she looked because Kirk Whitfield—and most of the football team that’d followed them to the dock—couldn’t keep their eyes off her.
“Going to get some red Solo!” Kirk yelled as he trooped off with the guys to find the keg.
“Okie dokie!” Mercy said as she blew him a kiss and dropped her purse with a seismic plop into an empty chair.
“Girlfriend, those jeans slay!” Emily said as she unfolded herself from the lounger she’d been sunning on and bent to mix Mercy a drink, displaying a whole lot of firm round ass, which had the football players who hadn’t already followed their quarterback to the keg crowding the dock behind Mercy and cheering.
Mercy turned and narrowed her eyes at the herd of football sheeples. “Bloody buggering hell! It’s just a girl in a bikini. Pick your tongues up off the dock. The keg is over there by the bonfire, which needs to be lit so we can toast wieners and marshmallows. So, light it or I’ll do a little bibbity-bobbity-bitch and the veggie wieners will be replaced by a meatier variety.” Mercy raised her hands and flicked her fingers at the football team, aiming for just below their belts.
As expected, the players backed off fast—heading to the keg and the heap of kindling and firewood as they rearranged their personal non-vegan wieners and sent her suspicious glances like they weren’t entirely sure she was kidding.
“You know Mom would lecture you about teasing them like that. She’d say, ‘What you put out into the world returns to you, and that goes for thoughts, acts, and energy.’”
Mercy grinned impishly as she turned to face her twin. “True, but Abigail’s not here.” She threw her arms around her sister—her favorite person in the world, though their mom was a close second. “Happy birthday, little sis!”
“I seriously don’t think being three minutes older makes me your little sister.” Hunter repeated the line she’d been saying for as long as both twins could remember, though she hugged her sister back and whispered, “Happy birthday.”
“Aww, twin love.” From a few feet behind them on the dock, a tall raven-haired player grinned a familiar crooked-toothed smile at the sisters.
Hunter broke the hug instantly and hurled herself into her best friend’s arms like she hadn’t just seen him at school a few hours ago.
“Jax! Finally! I thought you’d never get here.”
“Sorry. Meant to be here earlier, H, but football practice was hell, and then I was stalking my mailbox for your—” Jax paused and dramatically lifted a smallish rectangular box from behind his back. It was wrapped in swirly blue paper that had stars all over it and tied with a silver bow. “Birthday present! Ta-da!”
“Ooooh! You shouldn’t have, but I’m glad you did!” Hunter squealed and bounced on her toes.
Emily bumped Mercy’s shoulder. “I will forever think it’s weird that your sister’s bestie is a dude.”
Mercy shrugged. “Well, as my bestie, I’m expecting you to gift me an awesome birthday pressie with tons of girl power that will put Jax’s to shame.”
Both girls watched while Hunter tore open the box and then shrieked in pleasure as she held up a gorgeous fountain pen made of something that seemed to glow.
“Ohmygod! It’s opal! You got me a pen made of my favorite stone! You’re the best, Jax!”
Mercy looked at Emily and held out her hands expectantly. “Gift me.”
Emily shrugged and handed her the red plastic cup she’d just filled. “Happy birthday.”
Mercy took the cup, sniffed it, and sipped it. “It’s vodka and cranberry.”
“I know, right?” Emily said. “Your fav!”
“Em,” Mercy sighed. “You’re gonna have to do better at Yule. You can’t keep letting a dude out-gift you.”
Emily’s full bottom lip stuck out as she pouted. “But it is your fav.”
“True, so you do get some bestie points for knowing that.” Mercy handed the cup back to Em. “Which you immediately lose ’cause I cannot drink this—not tonight. You know H and I have to meet Mom in just a few hours for our special fam celebration thing—and I cannot be toasted for that. Gotta stick to beer—and just a little.”
“Well, shit. Sorry,” said Em. “Good thing my sparkling personality is a gift itself.”
“It’s something, that’s for sure.”
“Mercy, isn’t it perfect?” Hunter waved her new pen around.
Mercy grinned at her sister. “Yep.” She looked up at the guy who had been her sister’s best friend since second grade and shared the grin with him. “Way to go, Jax. You #nailedit.”
“And I got you this.” Jax ran his fingers through his black hair and tossed a tiny plastic baggie to her.
Mercy opened it and out slid a button that quoted, “I ask no favor for my sex. All I ask of our brethren is that they take their feet off our necks.”—RBG. She