“Let’s put something on it,” said Sam, as she leaned forward over the table.

“On the peg game?” I said, with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” she said. She narrowed her eyes. I had the feeling she’d actually played this game a lot. And that I would very likely lose. But you know, a guy will do a lot for a pretty girl when … I’m getting ahead here.

But here’s the context — we were on a road trip, to go hang out at a lakehouse for the weekend. I’d met Sam (aka Samantha, aka SamJam) like a week before that at a neighborhood house party, and it turned out she and I had both been invited to some lake house getaway my mutual friends, and we were carpooling out there with said mutual friends & couple, Ana and Thomas (aka Tank, aka The Tank).

Now we were eating mediocre food at one of those country store type restaurants — it was not Cracker Barrel, but instead it was like a step sideways, some off brand less successful chain. But anyway, they still had one of those peg-chinese-checkers games, I don’t actually know if the game has a name. That’s apparently what this was about.

Sam herself had short black hair, some big plastic hipster glasses, and a few artsy tattoos running down her left arm. She really seemed too cool to be talking to me — computer programmer, early 20s, no tattoos or cool stuff about me.

Anyway, caught up? No idea? Great, at the time I didn’t know what to expect either.

“What’d you have in mind?” I ventured.

“How about… whoever wins gets to cast a magic spell on the other.”

“I don’t know any magic spells,” I said.

“Well, if you beat me I can cast one on myself,” she said with a dismissive shrug. “Anyway, are we doing this?”

“Yeah, sure.” I said.

Magic. So that was neat. Not something I knew a lot about. I’d always of course been aware of magic — you know, I’d seen it on videos and sometimes you’d run across a magician doing stuff on a street corner. But it’d never occurred to me that someone could just … learn that stuff.

And then there was this peg checkers game. Well, turned out either I’m not very good at it, or Sam is a genius at it. Either way, it didn’t even take that long. She beat me before our mediocre food even showed up.

“Yessss,” said Sam with an adorable smirk. She high-fived Tank sitting next to her, who didn’t even look up from his phone. Ana and Tom were trying, I think, to settle some kind of movie trivia dispute about which actress voiced some animated character.

“What’d you just win?” said Ana, who was on my side of the booth.

“I get to cast a spell on him,” said Sam. “Hand on, I always have to look this one up.”

“Hey Tom, if I’m right can I cast a spell on you?” jibed Ana at her boyfriend.

“Only if you drive the rest of the way,” said Tom, not even looking up.

“𝕬𝖘𝖍𝖐𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖟𝖊𝖐𝖕𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖟𝖈𝖍𝖘𝖊!” said Sam, reading the text from her phone.

“How did you even make that sound with—“ I started to say.

“This will last like an hour,” said Sam. Then she threw a handful of glowing-blue-magic-something right into my face.

If you’ve ever had magic done on you, you probably know what comes right after. For those that don’t — it gets weird. The world melted away into a kaleidoscope of colors, sounds, I don’t know — it just all shifts. Your senses stop making sense. It’s like an instant acid trip that’s over before you can even understand you’re on it.

Then I was back and —

Turns out there’s also a reason that in performances, they usually do magic inside a box. It makes sure that whatever the magic does to you, you’re still in the box. And while the magic is applying a blender to your reality,

I came to with my cheek against the vinyl restaurant booth. I’d slumped against and behind Ana, who pulled me up again by my shirt.

“How did…” I blinked. “My arms?”

It was not a very articulate question. But it was obvious what I meant by it.

“You don’t have arms any more,” said Sam, as if that were obvious. Which, actually, I suppose it was.

My arms were just missing. Not there. My shoulders felt odd without the usual weight of them. My flannel shirt was still buttoned and two empty sleeves were hanging down, which Ana now ‘helpfully’ tied in knots.

“But how did you—“

“Maaaaaa-gic!” said Sam with another cute sarcastic smirk. She caught my eye and smiled a bit.

“Also…” she said, crossing her own arms on the table.

I gawked open mouthed. Her arms were well, I think the term is “Swole As Fuck.” Still had the same tattoos, still the same overall feminine shape, but just like … well, about the size of her arms and my arms put together.

“Have you never had magic done on you before?” said Ana.

“I remember getting my nose taken off as a kid,” I said. “But nothing like—“

I shrugged my empty shoulders.

“So it’s your first time,” said Ana. Then added to Sam, “Did you know it was his first time?”

Sam nodded.

“We talked about it at that party,” she said.

“We did?” I said. Probably not the smoothest move to admit, but I was genuinely confused.

“You asked me about my tattoos, and I said they help me channel magic spirit energy, and you said you’d have to try it.”

“I thought you were being metaphorical.”

“As metaphorical as these guns!” said Sam, flexing both biceps.

Then our food arrived. This presented a new challenge. I watched wordlessly as the other three picked up their sandwiches — I’d gotten a burger myself — and started eating.

“Um,” I said.

Sam looked across at me with another smirk.

“Here,” she said, reaching across the table and taking my plate. She started cutting the burger up into bites with a knife and fork. “Maybe start on the French fries, and I’ll help you with the rest.”

“Uh, thanks,” I said, bending over to eat a French fry off the plate. It was just as awkward and difficult as it sounds.

“I didn’t actually think about this,” said Sam, with a slight laugh. “Honestly, I just wanted a bit more room in the back seat. And, you know, also, Sam Swolo…”

She flexed one arm again.

I finished the French fry. I decided I was going to have to wait for help. This wasn’t worth it.

“So what’s the magic tattoo you’ve got?” I said. “Now that I’m properly paying attention.”

“This one,” she said, pointing to an intricate symmetrical pattern on her left forearm.

“What does … that pattern is magical or something?”

“Nope, just looks cool. It’s not the pattern, it’s the ink. Infused with magic resonance stuff.”

“Oh. Neato.” I said. I looked dejectedly down at the plate of food in front of me. This was already turning into an interesting trip.