by Debbie Manber Kupfer
Simon concentrated on the words. They had to be just right, perfect. The ink flowed from his pen as it floated a few inches above the magenta vellum. There that’s it, and now to fold, to create. Silently he mouthed the spell and the butterfly began to take form. He had watched a Japanese master once form an intricate butterfly out of a single sheet of paper. He closed his eyes and dredged through his memories, remembering the lines. He smiled as he opened his eyes and the butterfly sat in front him, its wings quivering, awaiting his next instruction.
Jennifer sat by herself in the corner of the cafeteria. Tonight was prom and still no invitation. She was crazy to believe that Simon was interested in her – especially as her magic was so commonplace. He could have his pick of any witch…