Vinegar Tom purrs as he rubs against his witch’s legs. “Good boy,” Fauna leans down and scratches him under the chin. He flicks his tail and stretches. “See? He’s not all bad.” She picks him up and nuzzles her face against his.
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Life is boring in Aurora Skies. The people are boring and the businesses are boring and even the rain is boring. It never sticks around long enough to be enjoyed—any precipitation on the arctic island soon turns to snow. In pursuit of at least some excitement, the teens have decided to indulge in makeovers. Or, as Raven announces it to Bjorn, “maaaaaakeovers,” with a trill on the first syllable. The inside of the salon is as trendy as Aurora Skies can manage: painstakingly refurbished wooden floors, boldly colored walls, racks of vintage clothing, disinterested employees, and a soundtrack of acoustic guitar. A whine cuts through the music. “I don’t know why I need to cut my hair,” Bjorn complains. “That isn’t supposed to be part of this deal.” “Well, for one, you’ve had that hair your entire life. It’s time for change,” Raven says. “And for two, it looks bad. You look bad. I’ve been too nice to say it but, jeez, you just look unwashed and smelly.” “I disagree. I think