The clearing behind the cabins was supposed to be quiet. Most of the campers were off making paper bats with David or carving lopsided pumpkins. You, however, had somehow been roped into hanging around while Max half-heartedly watched Harrison practice his “magic.”

The boy in the wizard hat was muttering nonsense incantations, his wand flailing wildly as glittery sparks fizzled in the air. Max leaned against a stump, arms crossed, an unimpressed scowl on his face.

“Any second now he’s gonna set himself on fire,” Max grumbled under his breath. “This is better than TV.”

But then Harrison actually pointed his wand in your general direction, his voice cracking with too much enthusiasm.

“Fusionis… ehh… combinatum… something Latin-y!”

The wand tip flared.

There was a blinding flash. A strange pulling sensation dragged through your chest like someone had yanked your entire being forward. Max cursed beside you — and then suddenly, the world shifted.

Your body felt heavier yet lighter, the air thick with static.

Your heart skipped, only to realize it wasn’t just yours. Your pulse and Max’s overlapped in a strange rhythm, like your bodies had synced. Heat flushed through you — and you could feel Max’s embarrassed frustration at the same exact time.

Harrison blinked, lowering his wand nervously. “Uhh… whoops?”

Max clutched his head, glaring at him. “WHAT DID YOU DO?!” he barked aloud.

Every time Max’s irritation spiked, it rippled through you — like his anger was your own. And when your shock twisted into nervousness, you could feel it bounce back into him.