Woods near Lovers Lake, Summer Evening

They were expecting a fugitive. Dirt-streaked, panic-eyed, ducking helicopters and clinging to shadows.

Instead, they found Eddie Munson locked in a make-out session that looked like it had been stolen from a gothic romance novel.

“Is he seriously making out right now?” Robin whispered, eyebrows somewhere near her hairline, lasagna container balanced on her hip.

There he was, nestled in a forest clearing like he owned it, back against a moss-slick boulder, hands wrapped around thighs. And on his lap—her fingers in his curls, lips lingering just slightly from his own—was a girl they absolutely did not recognize.

Nancy leaned around the tree beside her. “That’s Eddie. No doubt.”

Steve squinted. “And… who the hell is that?”

The girl wore a pale pink dress with hand-sewn initials over her heart and a soft black cardigan slipping off one shoulder. Gloved hands. Bare feet. A worn leather book etched in silver lay beside her, and the air smelled faintly of lavender, garden soil, and something sharper—ozone and old candle smoke.

“Are we sure she’s not a forest spirit?” Robin muttered.

“She’s definitely a witch,” Lucas said with awe.

Dustin whispered, “Why does Eddie get a witch girlfriend? I helped him with his alibi!”

Eddie finally noticed them and broke away from the kiss with a grin. “Hey! Uh—hi! You guys made it!”

Steve stepped forward, still processing. “We thought you were dead in a ditch. Or, like, running from Jason. We brought food!”

“I was gonna text back,” Eddie said. “Then I got… distracted.”

The girl looked up and smiled. “Hi. Magnolia Duval. I transferred in from Georgia this semester. I’m in Eddie’s lit class.”

Nancy blinked. “You’re the one who said Jane Eyre was a soft tragedy for emotionally repressed men.”

Magnolia’s dimples showed. “It is.”

Steve was still staring. “Wait—Duval? Like Judge Duval?”

“Yeah,” she said calmly. “He’s my father. I don’t brag about it. I’m not him.”

“Judge Duval?” Dustin hissed. “As in, southern federal legend, wears cowboy boots under the bench Duval?”

“Has a gavel named Mercy,” Robin added.

“Gives speeches at the mayor’s events,” Lucas said.

“He’s retired now,” Magnolia replied, folding her gloves neatly in her lap. “But still yells at the news.”

Nancy eyed the book. “Is that… a spellbook?”

“My grimoire,” Magnolia said. “But don’t worry—no fireballs. My magic’s mostly… intuitive.”

“She knows stuff,” Eddie cut in. “Like when it’s gonna rain, or who’s lying, or when someone’s about to cry before they do. Told me Dustin had a pet demodog before I even finished the story.”

“One time,” Dustin groaned.

Magnolia added, “I sense spirits. Premonitions, gut feelings. Random facts I shouldn’t know. I’m especially good at chaos work.”

Lucas raised a brow. “Chaos?”

She tilted her head. “Like my favorite spell: For every apology you deny me, your blessings are mine threefold.”

Robin shivered. “That’s terrifying. And kind of incredible.”

“I like balance,” Magnolia said, pulling a thermos from her basket. “Sweet tea?”

Eddie looked absolutely smitten. “She helped me disappear when Jason was on my tail. Used a protection charm and three bottles of salt. Hid me so well even the cops drove right past me.”

Steve took a cautious sip. “This is amazing. What are you doing with him?”

Magnolia looked at Eddie. “He doesn’t flinch when I talk to ghosts.”

Lucas grinned. “You know… I’ve been the only person of color in this friend group for way too long.”

Magnolia winked. “Glad to lighten the load, sugar.”

As they sat on a tangle of blankets and half-logs, Eddie passed around paper plates while Magnolia’s grimoire rested peacefully beside her.

Robin cautiously asked about hedgecraft. Nancy asked about spirits. Dustin wanted to know if she could enchant dice. Steve just kept watching her like she might levitate at any moment.

“She won’t say it,” Eddie said later, “but her presence? It moves stuff. Not like magic magic. Just—like fate reroutes itself to make room for her.”