CHAPTER TWO
The Wand
There were things Nic never left home without:
Her sparkly socks
(for stealth-mode magic)
At least one snack
(preferably grapes, or things that felt fancy)
And most importantly—
her wand.
Now, this wand wasn’t like other wands.
It wasn’t made of wood.
Or crystals.
Or anything you could find at the bottom of a wizard’s closet.
It looked like a stick.
But it was actually a secret memory.
One she carried in her pocket,
behind her ear,
and sometimes—tucked in her braid.
She didn’t know where it came from.
But she knew it was always meant to find her.
And when she held it just right,
and thought really hard about joy,
the whole world shimmered just a little.
Like the air got soft.
Like the trees leaned in.
Like everything paused to listen.
Even Clifford.
Especially Clifford.
Because he remembered too.
He’d sit still—
eyes wide, ears perked.
As if to say:
“Do it, Nic.
Use the wand.
The world’s waiting again.”
And so she would.
She’d raise it.
Point it at the sky.
Close her eyes—
And whisper her favorite word:
“Remember.”
And just like that—
The wind would change direction.
The clouds would spell her name.
The birds would blink in Morse code.
And Nic would grin
like she’d done it again.
Because she had.
She always did.
Not by forcing.
Not by planning.