MG Urban Fantasy with multicultural characters, neurodivergence, healing powers and two cousins who hate each other.

I knew there was a time when my cousin wasn’t complaining, and might even have been likeable. I just can’t remember when that was. 

“Boramma’s never late,” Mariam groaned. She pulled off her hijab, and tossed it on the coffee table with a sigh of defeat. 

“Sorry,” I said. But I wasn’t. She had to experience disappointment at least once in her life. 

“It’s not like her to forget,” Mariam said, blame in her voice as if I could control Boramma missing their weekly hike. She plopped down on the couch and turned her heavily lined eyes to her phone. They were lovely, large gold-flecked eyes, forever fixed in a squint. Or maybe that was just at me. I shrugged, not letting her see the steam building inside my chest. She’d whined all through dinner, and was determined to spoil dessert, too.  

“It’s too late now, anyway,” Fufu said over the island counter from the kitchen. “Let’s have dessert and then we’ll head out. Safiya, help me in here?”

“OK, Fufu,’ I said, and dutifully entered the kitchen. Not that she needed help, more like keeping me from taking Mariam’s bait by making my hands busy. She was wearing a pink tee shirt with her bakery’s name on it in big, loopy letters. “Sadia’s Sugar and Spice.” Her purple hijab was folded on the side counter, and her thick, black hair was piled high in a tidy bun while she worked her magic. 

Hints of cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, and peppercorns…