Chapter 37 The Dork Debate

When Scarlett was fourteen, she had secretly applied to and been accepted at a six-week computer-programing summer camp, hosted on the grounds of a mildly respected university in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The question of whether or not to permit young Scarlett to leave the witches of Oak Haven to walk among the nerds sparked a family argument that dragged on for five days. The Harvard Dork Debate, as Delilah had named it, was one of those endurance-test rows—a multi-hour verbal slugfest where opposing teams would periodically take breaks and return to their corners to steady themselves. It was like one of those marathon games of Risk, where the incomplete board sits on the dining room table for weeks, and friends stop by to offer strategic advice. Except in this case, the ultimate prize wasn't Kamchatka—it was Scarlett's life.

The Harvard Dork Debate—with Scarlett and Papa in the Pro-Camp camp, Mama and Luna in the Anti-Camp camp, and Delilah solidly in the Who Cares About Camp camp—was unquestionably the most intense conflict the Melrose family had ever experienced . . . until now. From the moment Scarlett brought her starling idea to her mother and the other witches, it was clear that this Murmuration of Scarletts Debate would make the Harvard Dork Debate look like a mild difference of opinion. It would probably make the Battle of Stalingrad look like a mild difference of opinion.

But Scarlett had history on her side: she'd won the Harvard Dork Debate and by God, she'd win this one too.

***

"Absolutely not!" Mama slammed her teacup down so hard, it sloshed Earl Grey onto the tablecloth. The debate had been raging for some time—this was Mama's third cup of tea—but her determination hadn't flagged. "A flock of birds? Have you lost your mind, Scarlett?"

The dining room of the Melrose inn had been transformed into a war room of sorts, with witches crowded around the large oak table. Scarlett stood at the head, her chin lifted defiantly as she faced her mother's fury.

"As I have said repeatedly , it will be a telepathic murmuration, not just any old flock. And it's the only way."

"It's sheer lunacy!" Delilah chimed in to agree with Mama. But in her eyes, Scarlett thought she saw a flicker of reluctant admiration.

"Scarlett, this is madness. If even one starling doesn't return, you'll be trapped forever. I won't allow it."

"Luna, tell them." Scarlett appealed to her baby sister for support; Luna had far more street cred concerning magical decisions than she ever would.

Luna leaned forward, her voice calm but urgent. "Mama, believe me, I understand what you're saying. But—"

"But?!" Mama repeated. "Oh good grief, Luna! Don't tell me you support this!"

"— but if we don't stop the dragonflies, the grove will be destroyed. Starlings seem like the answer, but wild starlings will most assuredly destroy the grove. Scarlett's plan might be our only hope."

Mama shook her head. "You don't understand. I have an entire presentation on the perils of wild animal transformation—I have slides! Let me show you all the slides."

Scarlett smiled affectionately. Just last night, her mother had been shouting at her. Today, she's shouting about her. This was better. "I don't need to see the slides, Mama. I inspired the slides, remember? I've lived the slides."

Lounging in her chair, glass of pinot in hand, Belinda Chatterjee waved dismissively. "Oh, let the kid try. What's the worst that could happen?"

" The worst that could happen ?!" Aphra's voice quivered with emotion. "We could lose Scarlett forever. No, it's much, much too dangerous."

Violet bounced in her seat, eyes wide with excitement. "It's totally metal! Scarlett, you have to do it!"

Jerusha, one of the elderly witches, cleared her throat. "In my day, we respected the dangers of magic. The young always think they're invincible. But transformation spells are not to be taken lightly."

"This is so." Candace nodded sagely. "But with that being said . . . might we consider that perhaps Miss Luna should perform the spell? I believe she is, well . . . how shall I put this . . ."

Scarlett lifted an eyebrow. "Better at witch shit than Scarlett the screw-up?"

"My word!" The old witch huffed. "I would never use such language!"

"Dear old Candace . . ." Luna patted her hand consolingly. "We all appreciate your wisdom—"

"Speak for yourself," muttered Scarlett.

"—but Scarlett's abilities aren't in question here. After all, she's the only witch in this room who has successfully performed this spell before."

"Beginner's luck!" Mama pounded the table again. "That was just a case of God looking out for drunkards and fools."

Scarlett made a face. " Thanks, Mama ."

"I don't want any of my girls participating in this nonsense, no matter how skilled they are."

"Kelly," said Jerusha firmly. "You know as well as I that magic demands a price. And the grove must be preserved."

"Oh, the grove, the grove, blah blah blah." Mama threw her hands up in exasperation. "I am so sick of hearing about the grove. What about Scarlett? One errant bird, one gust of wind, one . . . I don't know, one cruel boy with a stone . . . and we'll lose her forever!"

"If you think about it . . ." Polly examined her nails with a bored expression. "Scarlett has been lost to us for ten years already. So . . ."

Mama turned a murderous glare on Polly. "So what , exactly? What precisely is your point, Miss Polly Practically Perfect?"

Polly blanched. "Nothing, I just . . . I'm just saying . . . if she's willing to try, who are we to stop her?"

Louise Demain, who had refused a seat at the table as she preferred lurking ominously in the shadows, abruptly stepped forward. "In the cosmic abyss," she intoned, "the desires of mortals are but fleeting whispers, drowned out by—"

Mama rolled her eyes. "Oh, and you can shut the fuck up, as well."

The elderly witches gasped at the bold language of Kelly Melrose, while her daughters had to suppress delighted giggles.

"Sounds like Louise casts her vote in my favor," Scarlett said. "It's hard to tell, but—"

"I favor nothing," she declared. "I am the voice of a cold, indifferent universe."

"Put a sock in it, time witch," Mama shot back. "I don't recall inviting H.P. Lovecraft into my dining room."

Zahir entered from the kitchen with a tray of sandwiches and opinions of his own. "It's a terrible idea. Reckless, foolhardy, and likely to end in disaster." He set the tray down and met Scarlett's gaze. "Which is exactly why you'll do it, no matter what anyone says. Here, I made you a tuna sandwich."

Scarlett reached for the treat, then paused. "Did you put pickles in? And hot sauce?"

"Of course, and lime zest." He spread his arms wide. "Who do you think you're talking to?!"

She grinned and dug in hungrily. "I understand everyone's concern," she said with her mouth rudely full. "But this is happening."

"It most certainly is not!" shouted her mother.

***

More time passed—more debate, more discussion, more of the same points made over and over. Neither Mama nor Scarlett showed any sign of weakening.

Then they heard the front door open, and Mama muttered, "At last, the cavalry has arrived . . ."

Scarlett's eyes narrowed. "What exactly does that mean?"

Nate strode into the dining room. The debate fell silent, all eyes turning to him as he made his way to an empty chair at the table. Scarlett stared, but his expression was unreadable.

Mama rose from her seat, a triumphant twinkle in her eyes. "Darling boy, thank you so much for coming . . ."

"What did you do, Mama?" Scarlett demanded. "Did you call him over here? How dare you drag Nate into this—it has nothing to do with him!" She felt a knot of unease tighten in her stomach. Is he Mama's secret weapon? The thought made her heart sink. Because honestly? As secret weapons go, he was a good choice. If there was anyone who could talk her out of this plan, it was Nate.

"We're so glad you could join us," Mama continued. "Please, sit. Belinda, would you be a dear and pass our newcomer a sandwich?"

Scarlett locked eyes with Nate and spoke directly to him. "This is none of your business. You should stay out of it."

Belinda Chatterjee jumped to her feet, eager to play hostess. "Of course, Mama Melrose. Nate, we have tuna, turkey, and grilled veg, I think. What's your pleasure?"

Nate settled into the chair, his eyes never leaving Scarlett's face. "Is the tuna done Scarlett-style?"

"Of course," Belinda announced. "Truth be told, it's impossible to get Zahir to make it any other way."

Nate nodded. "Then tuna's fine, thanks."

Mama leaned forward, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. "Nate, I'm sure Scarlett has told you about her ridiculous plan."

"She didn't, actually. You did, when you summoned me over here."

"Be that as it may. We were just discussing how utterly foolish and dangerous it is. I knew you'd want to be here to help us talk some sense into her."

Nate stared at Scarlett over his tuna. She met his gaze, her eyes pleading silently. Don't do this to me, she thought at him. You definitely could . . . but please, please don't.

"Scarlett," he began, his voice soft but clear, "I know you. I know your heart, your strength, and your determination. And—"

"Yes, of course," Mama said soothingly. "That was never in question."

"If you'll let me finish."

"I'm so sorry," she said. "The floor is yours."

"Right." He returned his gaze to Scarlett. "This is a grave decision. No one in the room wants to lose you after finally getting you back after so long."

"But Nate . . ." Scarlett pleaded. She sensed some hardcore emotional blackmail was coming and didn't like it.

"Listen to me, Scar." He paused to gaze around the table; all the witches sat on the edge of their seats like this was the last sixty seconds of the World Cup Final. "If you truly believe this is the only way to save the grove . . . then I support you, completely and without reservation."

The dining room erupted. Mama's face went slack with shock, her eyes wide and disbelieving. "Nate, how can you say that? Don't you understand the risks?"

He raised a hand, silencing the clamor. "I do. But I also understand Scarlett. She wouldn't suggest this if she didn't believe it was essential. We need to trust her, to believe in her abilities."

Scarlett felt a rush of relief and gratitude wash over her. She suddenly felt like she could take on the world.

Around the table, the witches erupted into a renewed frenzy of arguments and counter-arguments, their voices rising to a crescendo. All the while, Scarlett and Nate just stared at one another, smiling.

Just as the debate reached a fever pitch, the stage manager of the Gilbert and Sullivan crew burst into the room, his face flushed with annoyance. "Ladies, please!" he cried, waving his arms for silence. "The performance is about to begin. You don't have to attend, although, of course, your presence is desired. But for the love of all that is holy, you must quiet down! You're disturbing everyone!"

Duly chastised, the witches stood, most of them heading to the ballroom for Pirates of Penzance . On her way out, Mama turned to Scarlett, her eyes narrowed in determination. "This isn't over, young lady. We will discuss this further."

Scarlett nodded, her expression polite but resolute. She knew, deep in her heart, that the decision had already been made.

As the witches filed out, Luna and Delilah pulled their sister aside. Del grabbed Scarlett by the shoulders and pulled her in, so they stood forehead to forehead. "This is stupid, and reckless, and a terrible mistake . . ."

"Don't care," Scarlett replied.

"...and I love you, so don't fuck this thing up." Del abruptly turned and fled the room.

Scarlett turned to her baby sister and lifted an eyebrow. "There's nothing like a Delilah pep talk, is there?"

"Listen carefully. I'll keep Mama off your back for tonight." Luna's voice was low and urgent. "While she's at the play, you should get ready. Go upstairs to our old bedroom. Meditate, prepare yourself mentally for the spell. We'll go tomorrow morning—anything I can do to help, I will." The sisters hugged, and Luna joined the other witches in the ballroom.

When the dining room was empty of witches, Scarlett flew at Nate. She threw her arms around his broad shoulders and pressed her lips against his, hoping to convey a depth of gratitude far beyond what she could express with words.

When they pulled apart, breathless, he said, "That was not the kiss of someone who's about to dump me."

"But I am dumping you," she said with a grin. "I'm turning myself into birds and flying away. Maybe forever if my mother is correct."

"Well, that is the most extreme breakup method I've ever heard of." He pulled her close and whispered into her hair. "Forget your mother. I know you can do it."

One last embrace, and then Scarlett slipped out of the dining room and made her way to the lobby stairs.

Nate followed her out. "Hey, Scar." His voice was tinged with a forced lightness. "I'm not going to wait around, you know. I just want to make sure that's clear. You go do this bird thing if you want, but you better come right back."

Halfway up the stairs, Scarlett turned back. Despite everything, a smile tugged at her lips. "As you wish."