Plus there’s Ana’s bakery, where her just-baked cinnamon streusel cupcakes brighten up her customers’ days and give them a shot of courage.
My favorite is my parents’ shop, of course, where they sell the most energizing, freshly made tea in the city-with a hint of a joy charm. The shops of Palo Alto’s Sorcerer Square are in plain sight, but this ordinary-seeming plaza has a secret side. Or what Mom diplomatically calls “the general public”-those who don’t know about magic. Nothing about magic is plain or simple, but that’s why we sorcerers hide it from the non-magic-aware. The door is covered in cascading ivy, and only the magic-aware can open it. I slide to a stop in front of a seemingly plain oak door and lock up my bike at the rack. It’s officially the summer before senior year and I am not letting a second go to waste, starting with our epic road trip down to Southern California. I’m not wasting any more time worrying about grades. With my economics final, I wasn’t so lucky, but I think I managed to scrape by with at least a B.Įither way, junior year is fading like the chalk-art sketches that Ana’s drawn on the path outside her café to invite customers in. My best friend, Lia Park, didn’t have a third-period final, so she skipped out of the last day of school early. Get back here before they’re all gone!” Ana grins and waves me off. “My new mango cupcakes are the perfect way to kick off your summer break-they’re charmed with a spark of joy. Lia and I will be over here soon to plan our road trip.” I swear, it’s heavier than Totoro and the Catbus combined. I point over my shoulder at my backpack stuffed with my laptop, a few sketch pads, and two textbooks for last-minute cramming. “Come by to celebrate the end of junior year?” “What’s up, Ana?”Īnalise, the twentysomething owner of the trendy Simple Mornings Café, motions me over from where she’s wiping down a table, her tanned skin shining golden under the sun. I brake, rubber chirping against concrete, and grin. I take a sharp left onto Ramona Street when I get near City Hall, and the street narrows, edged in by stucco buildings and cardinal-red awnings, marking our connection to Stanford University.Īs I turn the corner into the plaza, there’s a shout.
There are charms and enchantments hidden all over Palo Alto-if you know where to look. People call Palo Alto a little quirky or even hipster …īut I know the truth. Some visitors swear that there’s a hint of vibrant energy in the air. Entrepreneurs swear that their best ideas were created sitting at the corner table of a certain café, and that startups are formed during walks through the Stanford University campus, as sunlight flows down through the leafy green oaks. There are some not-so-techy parts to my hometown, in the heart of Silicon Valley. The warm summer air swirls in a cooling breeze as I bike down one of the side streets of downtown Palo Alto.
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