Old Magic (6 page)

“Forget it,” we say simultaneously, bursting into more fits of giggles. We decide to go to the Icehouse instead. The local cafe. At least my mood begins to improve. It will help me get through the day. Ashpeak High is such a small school, the whole of the sophomore class—twenty-seven students—fits into one classroom. The only time we ever split up is for optional subjects. The social scene is a bit like that too. The only place in town worth a look is the Icehouse. Run by an Italian family that’s lived on the mountain longer than I’ve lived on earth, the cafe has a distinct Italian flavor. The cappuccinos are great. Ashpeak’s only claim to culture.

We agree to meet at eight. I spend the rest of the day wondering whether Jarrod will be there, and if so, will he be taking Jessica Palmer? This thought grates on my nerves—Jarrod and Jessica. I can’t concentrate and eventually my mood takes another dive. Of course he’ll be there, and of course he’ll take Jessica. That group always hangs out at the Icehouse. Where else is there?

By the end of the day I’ve convinced myself the only reason I’m interested in Jarrod is because I’m concerned for his well-being. At least, other than his clumsiness, nothing else extraordinary or odd has happened. Either he’s keeping a firm hold on his emotions, or I made a huge mistake last Monday, and he really didn’t cause that storm in the lab. It all seems like a dream now, even though a temporary lab has been set up in the Admin block until the repairs are complete. But what about that enchanted wind in Jillian’s shop? Was that simply my imagination?

If Jarrod doesn’t have the gift then I’ve made an earth-shattering fool of myself and given a complete stranger enough ammunition to have the whole town laughing in my face, snickering behind my back even more than before. These thoughts are disturbing. My face goes hot like I’ve just stuck it inside Jillian’s kiln.

I’m relieved when school is finally over for the day. The chilling wind is actually quite refreshing, cooling me off. I start reliving the things I told Jarrod—every stupid word.

As I make my way home I realize, either way, I’ve blown it.

Kate

The Icehouse is crowded. Everyone’s here, everyone, it seems, except Jarrod. Jessica Palmer’s here though, hanging out with a loud group of boys mostly—Pecs, Ryan, Pete O’Donnell—her usual crowd. I wonder what’s happened to Tasha? Pecs has an arm thrown over the back of Jessica’s seat. Occasionally his hand slides down and grips Jessica’s shoulder, giving it a revolting squeeze.

Hannah notices this little play. “Look at that.” With disgust in her voice she indicates with a flick of her head the rowdy group consisting of Pecs and his mates. They have the center two tables drawn together, so they’re hard to miss. Their desired effect. “Did you hear? Tasha’s given Pecs the shove.”

I stare at her. This is big news.

She’s rapt she has my whole attention. “Apparently she gave him an ultimatum: accept Jarrod into their group, or get lost. Can you believe it? Underneath that macho exterior Pecs is a kitten licking Her Highness’s feet. And,” she continues without even taking a breath, “rumor has it, Tasha’s got Jarrod dangling off her royal hook.”

I try to remember to breathe.

“Of course, Jessica Palmer didn’t get a say. She knows her place.”

I try to absorb it all; the image of Pecs in the form of a thickset furry animal on all fours at Tasha’s feet almost makes me laugh. It goes to show who really rules around here. The feminists would be pleased. I guess Jarrod is too. The part about him and Tasha, though not surprising, devastates me anyway. It’s something he’s longed for—to be accepted. I sensed it on his first day, the need burning deeply inside him to be part of a group. He sure hit the jackpot with this lot, they are the most popular group in school. He’s really winning.

We sit in a distant corner, farthest booth from the door. We don’t come here a lot, but when we do, this booth is my favorite, semi-concealed behind the jutting corner of the cafe counter, nearest the kitchen—out of eyeshot unless you’re looking.

I guess I know where Jarrod is now—out with Tasha Daniels. They’re probably taking in a movie first. I cringe at the thought of him watching that witch-burning rubbish they’re showing this weekend.

They walk in about half an hour later, Tasha swaying her skinny hips as she dances around the tables. She looks stylish and leggy, her long blond hair bouncing around her slender shoulders as she flicks a look back occasionally, making sure Jarrod is right behind her. He may as well be wearing a collar and chain.

I try not to stare at Tasha’s short, tight, bright red skirt. She’s wearing black tights underneath that give the illusion of eternal length. Her ice-blue midriff top reveals a perfectly rounded navel pierced with an expensive gold ring. She has to be freezing in this getup. I snort loudly, seething with jealousy. The malignant thought hits me as I reach into my jeans pocket for a tissue: She has Jarrod to keep her warm. God, it’s so unfair!

“What a turn,” Hannah remarks, shaking her head. “You never told me, whatd’ya think?”

She means Pecs getting dumped for Jarrod. I can’t help remembering only this morning when it appeared Jessica Palmer was with Jarrod. I bet she’s not pleased with the switch. But of course, what Tasha wants, Tasha always gets. It’s her upbringing. Ultra rich. Unbelievably spoiled. Her parents own a Hereford stud farm, but they don’t work it themselves. It’s Doctor Daniels, and his wife’s a lawyer and president of the local Country Women’s Association—Ashpeak’s most prominent professionals.

I blow my nose, hating these pre-winter sniffles, and think about it all. We should have seen this coming. Tasha’s been drooling over Jarrod ever since that first memorable morning in the science lab. Even Pecs saw her interest. But Tasha is one hell of a manipulator. I mean, who am I kidding? She has more social pull at this school than Pecs would in a lifetime. He’s just a brute, while Tasha is it. The one with whom everyone wants to be seen. Pecs adores her. Pecs ogles her. Tasha is queen of Ashpeak High. There is no other on this mountain who can match her on all three counts: looks, arrogance, and social standing.

It occurs to me, now that Jarrod is so obviously an accepted member of their group, Pecs will have to find someone else to get stuck into. Pecs is like that, has to have his kicking bag.

Hannah’s looking at me strangely, as if she’s waiting for a reply from someone who’s just left for another planet. I try to recall what she said, something about Tasha being involved with Jarrod and not Pecs. “Who cares?”

“Ahh, you don’t, of course,” she returns with sarcastic sweetness.

I roll my eyes and decide to get another cappuccino. No way can I get a waitress’s attention in this crowd so I go straight up to the counter. Bad move. Two people see me. The first is Jarrod with a weird expression on his face, like I’ve caught him off guard. I pay for my coffee, keeping my eyes lowered, but sense he’s still staring. I can’t stop myself from stealing one quick glance. But when my eyes catch his they don’t budge. Moisture dries in my mouth.

Pecs looks up to see what Jarrod is looking at, and when he sees me, he scoffs loudly. “Can’t blame you staring, man.” He slaps Jarrod on the back in an all-male, best-buddies gesture. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. We call her the Freak Show.” His hands fly up, one on either side of his thick face, fingers splayed, exaggeratedly trembling.

Some of my coffee spills as I hurry back to my booth. It isn’t Pecs’s sick remark that has me worried. I can take plenty of them. It’s the look on Jarrod’s face—bitten with sudden hardness. I’ve seen it before—in Mr. Garret’s science lab moments before that bizarre storm. His green eyes are blazing at Pecs, who’s so oblivious he’s still snickering under his breath.

“Don’t mind her.” This from Tasha, her hands all over Jarrod now, tugging him back down, claiming his attention. She’s sitting so close, if she moves one more centimeter she’ll be in his lap. “Sure, she’s good entertainment value, but her grandmother’s the wild card. And even though her shop’s interesting enough—I go there myself sometimes—the real stuff is hidden in the back rooms. Jillian’s into live sacrifices, you know. They drink blood and hold black masses.” He stares at her incredulously, eyebrows raised. Immediately she pouts. “It’s the truth, Jarrod. Every word.” Her eyes widen while her gleaming pink mouth trembles affectedly. “I’ve seen drops of blood on the carpet myself.” Her head swings momentarily to the side. “Something red, anyway. And,” she adds in a husky whisper, close to his ear now, “they’ve been seen dancing naked in the rain forest. It’s disgusting—pure devil worship.”

Her head swings away so that the others at her table (and the surrounding half-dozen tables) hear her distinctly. “There’s only the two of them, but, well, who would have them?”

The glass shatters just as the waitress lowers Pete O’Donnell’s drink. “What the . . . !”

“Sorry. Oh my goodness. Sorry, Pete.” Dia Petoria, the girl from my science class, is the waitress. She’s a nice girl, studies a lot even though it doesn’t show up in her marks. But she’s a trier all right. Instantly I feel sorry for her. This incident isn’t her fault. She doesn’t need Pete O’Donnell’s anger on top of her confusion. “I don’t know what happened. It just exploded!”

Bella Spagnolo, one of the owners, comes rushing over, whipping past where Hannah and I are quickly making up our minds to leave. She looks so angry I think she’s going to get stuck into Dia. She must be having a bad night ’cause she’s not usually like this. She comes to Jillian’s shop sometimes, looking for decorative pieces to dress up her cafe, trying to make it more appealing to a younger age group. I met her a couple of times. She even asked me what I thought young people liked. She seems nice.

I glance out of the corner of my eye as I wait for Hannah to organize herself. Her jacket has slipped to the floor so she has to climb down between the bench and table to retrieve it. Bella is listening intently to Dia’s explanation. Thankfully, she can tell Dia is innocent—no one is that good an actor. Bella helps her clean up the mess, promising the entire table a free cappuccino or soft drink.

At this stage leaving is our best option. I mean, I’m no coward. I can do damage to the lot of them if I want. But what would be the point? If I did hurt them, I’ll just be sorry later—not for them, for Jillian. Her shop is her livelihood, and even though she doesn’t make a lot of money out of it, she enjoys it, collecting things, experimenting with what sells, what doesn’t, and especially talking to the many tourists that come through.

I guess if I’m honest, I have to admit I’d be worried about what would happen to me as well. They think I’m weird now, and they don’t know the half of it. If they discover the truth, my life would be hell in this small community. And I like it here too much to jeopardize anything seriously. It’s quiet, and most people leave me alone.

One look at Jarrod and leaving becomes an urgent priority. He looks livid, and if he really does have the gift and loses his temper, things could start heating up.

I almost make it to the door, except Pecs is up to his tricks again, and I apparently am making a return appearance in the form of his momentary kicking bag. The wording of several malicious spells flicks through my mind like electricity. I have an inner battle to stop myself from going through with some of them.

“Hey there, Scary Face,” he croons, his fingers tightening around my elbow so that it actually hurts. “Leaving so soon? We haven’t had any fun yet.”

“Push off, Pecs. Your breath smells like frog dung.”

I stun him, but only for a second. It isn’t enough to break free. I send out a silent plea to Jarrod to remain calm. He doesn’t get it. This time glass shatters every where. No table or shelf or window is spared. Drinks spill onto tables, floors, customers. People scream, and Bella loses it completely, reverting to yelling out phrases in rapid Italian. Kitchen staff come tearing out in white aprons and funny little white caps.

For a second I think Pecs is going to release my arm, his concentration easily distracted by the surrounding chaos. I move a bit, try to yank my arm out of his grasp, but he just digs his fingers in deeper. I swear there’ll be bruises tomorrow. “Not so quick, Witchy One.” His head flicks about. “This is your handiwork, isn’t it?”

He means the shattered glass everywhere. I scoff and say, “I didn’t realize you were ugly and stupid.”

He doesn’t take this well. He snorts and grunts like a pig that’s been caged too long. “I know what you need, something to help you learn the art of socializing.”

Before I even get a chance to move my head, his mouth comes down on my throat. I feel his hot, moist lips slither across my shoulder. I could vomit. Instead I opt to get physical. As he comes up for air I aim a punch right into his ugly face. It doesn’t connect though. I have to give him one thing, for such a big slobbering brute, his reflexes are quick. He covers my balled fist with the palm of his hand, closing his fat fingers easily around it. “Feisty,” he mouths, licking his lips with his thick tongue. “And freaky. I like it. Take me home on your broomstick.”

Hannah’s teeth grind together at that comment. She tries to yank Pecs’s hand off my arm, letting fly with a couple of choice words, but he just brushes her aside, and with one hard shove, she finds herself on the cafe floor, sprawled on her rear.

Two things happen. Jarrod jumps up, tipping his chair over with rage, and a thundering vibration reverberates under our feet.

It has the incredible effect of bringing a sudden still ness into the chaos. Everyone goes quiet, listening, looking at each other, asking questions with their eyes. The vibrations spread to the walls, tables, curtains, light fittings. Soon everything is in motion.

Pecs drops my arm as fear descends. The thunderous rumble grows louder and everyone panics. They start screaming, thinking it’s an earthquake. There’s a mad rush for the door, which causes a jam. Hannah grabs my arm and starts yanking me after her. I can’t move, though, ’cause I have to find Jarrod. “You go, I’ll catch up. I have to see if Jarrod’s okay.”

“He can look after himself, Kate. We gotta get out before the whole place collapses. This is an earthquake!” Her big brown eyes grow unbelievably huge.