Invisibility Spell

We buy a book of magic spells and comb the pages for ingredients. We already have the Ouija board. Pinkies linked, we swear not to cheat.

It’s a snow day when we stir the stuff of dormancy to rouse our spirits. We chant the board’s simple words and follow its instructions.

Rod, rod, pod, pod, nod, nod, lod.

Standing booted and mittened in a foot of February snow at the end of our driveway, it is done. By our eyes and smiles, we know, it worked.

She’s first to realize and says, “We’re not invisible to each other!”

Reveling in snow angel glory, touched by the brightest sun, the snow ablaze with reflection, glistening with golden white purity as we throw tiny crystals into the sky just so they’ll fall back down again.

A car slushes slowly up the road. Wild with the unseen power we desire, we hurl fistfuls of frozen treasure toward the car. The driver stops time and rolls down the window.

“Are you okay?” they ask. “Do you need help?”

Speechless, we carry each other back up the driveway. Broken and visible.

We ask Mom, “What’d we do wrong?”

She says, “I do magic, too.”

She envisions her daughters in a bubble of light, shielding us from the world’s gaze for our survival.

The logic is wobbly. Hers, an anxiety salve. We chalk up our failure to bad science, having two invisibility spells running at the same time, not knowing which way we will be unseen.