Heart's Reflection (9 page)

"It fits
perfectly." I spoke under my breath and over my shoulder. "I want
Ronny to take me to the Spring Science Fair Fiesta Dance this Friday."

"What does
that have to do with anything?" Nathan's breath was hot on my ear.

"That makes
it science-related." I waved at my ear as if swatting a fly.

"Constantina
Dimas," the teacher demanded, making me cringe. She was really trying to
get me today.

Not hesitating, I
answered,"10x minus 3."

The teacher stared
at me silently for a moment and then nodded before turning back to the board
for more scribbling. "Does everyone else see how Ms. Dimas reached her
solution?"

"Besides,"
I continued to Nathan. "The Chinese part of me may be good at math and
science, but the Greek part is superstitious."

"What Greek
part?" Nathan asked. "You're adopted. You're
all
Chinese."

"Constantina
Dimas," the teacher demanded. "Can you give us the answer to the next
problem?"

"Y equals x
squared over 3x minus 2," I said almost immediately.

Her mouth pursed
so tightly I could count the twenty-three lines wringing her mouth.
"Correct," she finally said.

I raised my hand
again and the teacher fixed her gaze on me before nodding to give me permission
to speak again. "Yes? What is it?"

"Mrs. Blake.
I'm not calling myself Constantina anymore."

"What?"
She gaped at me.

"Right."
Nathan inserted himself into the conversation. "Now it's Istanbul, not
Constantina."

His comments
produced a few snickers quickly quelled by the furious glare of Mrs. Blake.
"Do you both realize this is a serious class?"

"My point is
serious, Mrs. Blake." I ignored an unrepentant Nathan chuckling behind me.
"I want to be called Tina. Just Tina."

"Just Tina
doesn't have the same ring as Istanbul," Nathan inserted to the whole
class. "Besides, calling yourself
Just
seems like you're bragging."

This time the
chuckles bounced loudly around the room until Mrs. Blake pounded the chalk to
pulp on the board.

"Students.
Come to order," she yelled, clapping. She wiped both hands against each other
trying to get rid of the white dust. "As to the comedy team of Nathan
Whitefield and Constantina Dimas, both of you report to the principal's office
immediately."

Fantastic. I
glanced at Gracella and grimaced. She shot me a sympathetic smile in return.
Slipping from the seat I gathered up my textbook and other things to slink out
of class in humiliation. Nathan, on the other hand, seemed to take a bow.

The hall was
silent and empty of everything except the aroma of dirty gym clothes. The
classroom door had barely closed behind Nathan when I scream-whispered at him,
"How could you get me thrown out of class? We'll probably get
detention."

"If you're
serving detention, maybe you'll give up this stupid idea about going to a
voodoo priestess."

"Root
doctor."

"Same
difference."

"Aghhhhhh."
I whirled on one heel and marched down the hall.

Nathan followed on
my heels, chuckling. "I'm sorry."

I didn't answer.

"What can I
do to make it up to you?"

My silence left
his question hanging.

"Okay,"
he said, as we rounded the corner to the administration offices. "No more
jokes about Istanbul."

My disgusted
harrumph should have warned him not to continue.

"But it's
funny," he went on. "You know that song? It's Istanbul, not
Constantinople."

Stopping mid-hall
I turned on him giving him my best evil eye. "Nobody but a nerd like you
would know that old song."

"I'll have
you know there was an excellent cover version in 2006." When he continued
he sang, "Been long time gone, Constantinople."

"It's not
funny. My name is the bane of my existence," I said.

"Turkish
delight, on moonlit night."

I had to smile at
that despite myself. "Why do I hang out with you?"

"Because
you're secretly in love with me and you want my hot bod?"

"Right,"
I said with sarcasm. Not that Nathan was ugly or anything. In fact, he was kind
of cute.
 
But in that brown shirt,
with his shaggy hair dyed green, he could pass for a palm tree. The glasses did
spoil the tree effect somewhat. Besides, Nathan was smart and funny. When he
wasn't teasing me about my name, I usually considered him my best friend,
although I wouldn't have admitted that tidbit to Nathan.

"I'm true to
my love for Ronny," I added.

"Ronny's
never even spoken to you."

"That's
immaterial to the equation."

"What
equation?"

"Me plus love
potion plus Ronny equals date to the dance."

With Nathan's
laughter ringing in my ears, I opened the office door and went inside.

The tire of
Gracella's 1987 Buick LaSabre hit a rut in the dirt road, and my head hit the
inside of the car roof.

"Ow," I
yelled. "What the heck was that? A landmine?"

In the backseat
Nathan shouted, "Doesn't this thing have any shocks?"

"Quit
bitching. I can barely see. It's so dark. And we're only out here so late
because you two had to serve detention." Gracella clutched the wheel. In
the dim glowing light of the dashboard speedometer, her knuckles appeared white
despite her cocoa color.

She was right
about the darkness. With no street lamps and barely a sliver of a moon, the
headlights of this old beater hardly made a dent in the inkiness of the night.
The rotten egg smell told me this marshy area must have a lot of sulfur in the
soil.

"We're only
here because Miss Istanbul wants a love potion," Nathan remarked.

Gritting my teeth,
I didn't answer him. If I stopped reacting to that nickname, maybe he'd drop
it.

"Good
point," Gracella exclaimed.

"Let's go
back to Savannah," Nathan said.

"No." I
braced against the dashboard with one hand and the door with the other to keep
from bouncing wildly again. The seatbelt could only do so much. "We're
almost there."

"Maybe,"
Gracella said. "It's been a while since I was out here."

"Great. Now
we're lost," Nathan whined.

"We aren't
lost," Gracella snapped. "At least I don't think so."

Nathan unbuckled
himself and leaned up between the front seats.

"Are you
crazy? You could fly through the windshield. Buckle yourself back in," I
yelled.

"Come
on," Nathan said. "If we head back now we can make it to Buddy
Burgers before they close. I'm buying."

Gracella slammed
on the brakes, and I threw out one arm like a railroad crossing gate to hold
Nathan back.

"There it
is." Gracella pointed down an offshoot from the road.

The house sitting
alone in the midst of the woods was a small, square box. But even in the
darkness, it seemed well kept. Whole conch shells marked the outline of the
front yard.

Gracella pulled
down the driveway and parked. We tumbled out of the car, and my legs wobbled as
if I'd been out to sea and tossed in a storm. As we walked toward the house,
the path crunched under our steps and, glancing down, I observed a mixture of
broken shells and dirt spread along the way. The porch light revealed yellow
clapboards on the house, Haint blue on the porch ceiling and trim, and white
pickets on the banister.

"What's with
the blue?" Nathan asked.

"It's supposed
to keep away evil spirits," Gracella answered.

"Doesn't seem
to be working. You're here," I teased Nathan as we reached the porch.

"Yeah,
Nathan. Could you please not be such a tool in front of my great aunt?"
Gracella added. "She could put the
bad
mout
curse on you, and turn you into a toad or something."

"Ha,"
Nathan scoffed, although he did squirm a bit.

Gracella knocked
at the door and it swung open.

The woman inside
couldn't have been more than thirty-five. She wore a flowered caftan with a
scarf tied around her hair, enhancing her ebony skin color.

"Titi,"
she greeted Gracella and embraced her. "You is so tall dese days."

"Aunt
Vandi." Gracella smiled broadly as she pulled back. "Thank you for
seeing us. These are my friends Tina and Nathan."

"Aye
ya." Aunt Vandi took my hand, speaking with her Gullah accent. "You
da one what need the love potion
joso
."

As I nodded,
Nathan inserted, "No. She doesn't need any mumbo jumbo magic stuff."

Aunt Vandi reeled
around to examine him with narrowed eyes. "Mumbo what,
bohbo
?"

Nathan blanched,
obviously seeing his future life as a toad. With head lowered he mumbled,
"Nothing...Ma'am. Sorry."

After a few
seconds Aunt Vandi cocked her head to the side. "A'ight I see you good
bohbo
what jes wanta p'otect your gal."

Nathan mumbled
something unintelligible.

Aunt Vandi turned
back to me and took my hand again, examining the palm. "Why you want this
potion, zactly?"

"I ummm. Want
ummm..."

"You nervous
gal?" she asked. "If you not sure the
joso
not work."

"I'm
sure," I replied. "I want the love potion so this guy I
like—Ronny Tallsman—will ask me to a dance."

"Dis strong
magic you play with." Her eyes locked with mine, and it seemed as if she
was seeing straight down through me to the calluses on my soles. "You okay
if he has love for you dat last long time?"

Swallowing down a
lump, I nodded.

"A'ight,"
she said, twisting to pick up scissors from a table next to us.

Before I could say
anything, she snipped two of my fingernails. Then sweeping my shoulder length
hair back, she took a lock from the nape and cut it off too.

Coming out of my
stunned shock, I glanced at my friends and saw them as surprised as me.

"Hopefully,
that won't show," I joked. "I'll never get Ronny to take me to the
dance if I have a bald spot. Potion or no potion."

Nathan scowled.
"If you wanna go to the dance so bad, Istanbul, I guess I could force
myself to take you."

"Thanks,"
I said through clenched teeth, trying to tamp down the kernels of hurt his
words caused. He had to
force
himself?

"Yeah,"
he continued. "You clean up okay. You wouldn't be a total
embarrassment."

The kernel popped
like Orville Redenbacher's in a microwave. "Wow, what a fantastic
offer," I retorted. "But I wouldn't want you to lose your creds with
the other geeks. I know you guys only date supermodels."

"It's
okay," he said with a smirk. "Any sacrifice for a friend."

Reaching up, I
gave a yank to a clump of his hair. "I wouldn't be seen on a date with
anybody who had a messy mop like this."

"Oww,"
he protested, rubbing his head. "Sheesh. Are you trying to give me a bald
spot to match yours?"

Aunt Vandi,
peering down her long nose, contemplated Nathan and me for a few moments before
making a
tut tut
clucking noise with
her tongue.

"I take these
to make potion. Beeback." With that she swept through a beaded curtain and
disappeared into the bowels of the house.

About five minutes
passed with Nathan harping at me and me sniping in response.

"Honestly you
two," Gracella said. "If you don't knock it off, I'll leave you here
and you can get back to town through the gator-infested marsh."

As she finished
the last word, her aunt stepped back into the room. Aunt Vandi walked past
Nathan, and he jumped, startled.

"What is it,
bohbo
? You act like I may turn you into
toad or sompin."

"Hehe."
Nathan tried to laugh.

Aunt Vandi stopped
in front of me and held up a capped vial. Inside was a brownish red powdery
substance. "Dis potion. It make this Ronny guy take you to the dance and
it bring you love. Dis what you want?"

I nodded, and took
the vial with trembling fingers.

"Take care no
one but your guy swallows dis mixture."

"Swallows?"

Nathan snickered.
A genuine laugh this time.

Duh, Tina.
Somehow it hadn't occurred to
me I was going to have to get Ronny to
take
the love potion.

Gracella held one
side of the sign against the lip of the table as I held the other. Applying a
piece of the tape, I affixed my side before standing back to take a look. The
signed screamed in block letters:
Lacrosse
Team Fundraiser Bake Sale. Brownies $1
.

We'd set up in a
corner of the cafeteria, and a few pre-lunch students milled around us, eyeing
our progress. On the table, we had three-dozen brownies. Each had been wrapped
in plastic and decorated with a slender ribbon bow. The ribbons were red and
blue on the
normal brownies.
We'd
decorated two
special
love
potion-filled brownies with yellow ribbon and then hidden them safely inside a
picnic basket.

"Tell me
again why we have two s
pecial
brownies?" Gracella asked.

"We have a
spare, just in case something happens to one."

"Like
what?"

"Like it
falls to the ground."

"This isn't
going to work." Gracella shook her head and wrung her hands.

"It will
work," I said, arranging the brownies in precise spaces on the table.
"Our target loves brownies. I've noticed him getting one every time they
have them in the lunch line."

"Why would we
be fundraising for the lacrosse team? We aren't on the team, and we aren't on
the insipid cheer squad."

"So? Anybody
can have school spirit," I defended. "It's common knowledge the
school board cut funding for athletics and everything but football is
suffering. Besides, we'll actually donate the money, so we aren't cheating
anyone."