Parties & Potions #4 (14 page)

“Since last September,” he says, reaching for another cookie. “You got them over the summer, yeah?”

“Yeah. But get this.” I motion him closer and he leans in. “My lucky-duck sister got them four months before I did.”

“Ouch,” he says. His breath smells like chocolate.

“Do you have any siblings?”

“Two younger brothers. I was the first to get powers, though. But both my parents are witches, so I’ve pretty much spent my whole life waiting for them.”

“At least you knew what to expect. My mom didn’t tell us that we were witches. She was a nonpracticing witch! I knew nothing about”—I wave my arms around the room— “any of this!”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” I say.

He moves his chair closer to mine. “So you grew up like a notch?”

“Yeah.” We’re only a few inches apart, and his knee is grazing mine under the table. Is he doing that on purpose? No. I’m sure he isn’t. I pull away anyway. “Hey. They don’t know you’re a warlock at school, do they?”

“No way,” he says. “I keep my lives separate. Magic life, regular life. Witch friends, school friends.”

“Does everyone do that? Because if it were up to Wendaline, she would have told the entire school about us.”

He laughs. “I think it depends on the family. And on where you live. New York City is pretty liberal.”

“I’d rather keep my witchiness a secret. Any tips? I’m a newbie.”

“It helps to tell your school friends that you have a country house. So they understand why you’re never around on the weekends.”

“Clever,” I say. “But I’m not sure that my dad would believe that I bought myself a country house.”

“Your dad doesn’t know? That’s rough.” Our eyes lock. He touches my shoulder.

I freeze.

Call it witch’s intuition, but I think now would be the right time to tell him that I have a boyfriend. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. I can just casually introduce it into the conversation.

Such as “My dad doesn’t know. And neither does my boyfriend.”

Or “Will you excuse me for a second? I have to call my boyfriend.”

Or maybe “Did I mention I have a boyfriend?”

Now.

Okay, now.

Now.

His hand is still on my shoulder. I have to get it off.

How am I supposed to do that without mentioning I have a boyfriend?

I glance at my watch. It’s almost six in New York. “Gosh, it’s late!” I blurt out. “I have to go!”

His hand drops to his lap.

I push my chair back, slip my shoes back on (ouch), stand up, and pick up my clutch from the table. “I gotta get back to my dad. Have you seen Miri?”

The band starts playing a slow song.

He puts his hand back on my shoulder. “One dance before you go.”

“But—” I have a boyfriend! I should leave. This second.

But if I leave now, Miri won’t get to have her slow dance with Praw

Before I realize what’s happening, my right hand is in his, my arm is around his neck, and we’re dancing. I am dancing with someone who’s not Raf. I’m
slow
dancing with someone who’s not Raf.

It feels nice. Easy. Safe.

It’s just a dance.

His hand is warm. He pulls me in a little closer. He smells good. Musky and outdoorsy And the muscles in his arm feel…

Ack! Don’t care! What’s wrong with me? I close my eyes and picture Raf.

My boyfriend Raf.
He might not be a warlock, but he’s sweet and smart and creative and he makes my heart swoon. When the song ends, I step back immediately.

Another slow song begins and he murmurs, “One more?”

“I can’t,” I mumble. “I really have to go. Good night!” Giggle, giggle. “Thanks for the dance!” I head straight for Miri and Praw. “Excuse me! Sorry to interrupt. We have to go!”

Miri and Praw are startled out of their embrace. They both have dopey looks on their faces. “Already?” She glances at her watch. “It’s late!”

Praw reluctantly lets her go. “You’ll be at Lozacea tomorrow though, right?”

“Yeah.” They’re looking at each other like they’ve just turned on the TV and discovered a new favorite show.

“Bye,” she murmurs.

“Bye, Miri,” he says softly.

“We should transport from the terrace,” I say. “No reason to go all the way downstairs.”

We push through the dancing crowd. How lucky all these people are not to have to go home! Not to have anyone to lie to.

Miri’s lips are set in a long straight line.

“What?”

“You got mad at me for hanging around when you were saying good night to Raf! I’d think you’d know better when I was trying to say good-bye to Corey.”

“Who’s Corey?”

“Praw! He has a first name, you know!”

“Oh!” Omigod! She wanted to kiss him. “I’m so, so sorry, Mir.” I smile.

She gets a worried look on her face. “You think he likes me, right?”

“Miri! You danced the entire night. He did not talk to anyone but you. He likes you. Can we talk about this later? We have a train to pretend to be on. Dad is expecting to pick us up at six-twenty”

I pull the traveling concoction and Karin’s note out of my clutch. “Look what I got. It’s called the go spell.”

“Is that what we saw them using last week?”

“Yup. Ready?”

“Good-bye, Paris! Good-bye, city of love!” Who is this lovesick tourist and what has she done with my grumpy sister?

I toss the mixture into the air above us and chant:

I feel the familiar rush of cold and then
whoosh!
We are sucked into the air, and the next thing I know, we are standing in a bathroom stall in the train station.

“Ew,” I say. A piece of toilet paper is stuck to my heel.

“Could have been worse,” Miri says. “Could have been the men’s.”

“Mir, you have some of the spell still in your hair.” I pluck at the dandruff-like flecks. Note to self: don’t use this spell when wearing black. “Is it on me?”

After she picks it off, we check ourselves out in the bath-room mirror, and we’re ready.

Her eyes go wide. “Rachel!”

“Miri!”

“Why are we in these dresses?”

Did the go spell wipe out her memories? “Because we were at the Sim?”

She flicks my arm. “I mean what’s our reason for Dad? Unless you want to tell him the truth.”

My heart speeds up. “Now? No! Definitely not. Let me think.”

“We should just tell him! He’ll be excited! Trust me, I know he will.” Her eyes are lit up with so much hope and love that it makes me nervous. Miri has always kept my dad on a bit of a pedestal. Nothing is ever his fault; it’s always Jennifer’s. But what if we do tell him, and what if he doesn’t react the way Miri thinks he will? What will happen to Miri?

“Miri,” I say carefully, “we can’t just tell him now. That’s insane. It’s too spur-of-the-moment. We need to think it through.”

She sighs. “We’ll just tell him we went to a party.”

“Why are we at a dress-up party that ends at six? That makes no sense. Let’s use the transformation spell to change into something more casual.”

She hugs her new outfit with her arms. “No way! I’m not zapping this dress!”

Oh, sure, my wardrobe was fine to play magical chairs with, but her dress is too precious. “Then let’s just go home and change.”

“By magic?”

“No, by train. Of course by magic! And then we’ll come right back.” I check the time on my phone. “We have seven minutes. We’d better be fast.”

I toss the concoction into the air and chant:

Vroom!
I feel like I’m in a race car with this spell.

“This stuff makes me dizzy,” Miri says as our feet land on our bathroom floor.

“It helps to close your eyes,” I say, opening mine. “But why do you think we keep ending up in bathrooms?”

“Maybe ’cause it’s private? So no one will see us? Like Superman’s phone booths?”

“Ha. But what if someone is using the bathroom? Like Lex?” Gross.

“Hey, it’s Friday night. What if he’s here right now? What if they’re—” She wiggles her eyebrows.

Gross to the power of two. “No time to throw up; we gotta move. Mom!” I scream. “Are you home? We’re here!”

No answer. That had better mean they’re out and not otherwise engaged.

I throw open the door. The lights are all off, and my mom’s door is open. “All clear.”

Miri motions to her back. “Unzip me!”

I undo her dress, she undoes mine, and then we both run to our respective rooms, throw on jeans and tops, and meet back in the hallway.

“Ready?” I ask, gasping for breath.

“Ready.”

I toss the concoction again.

“Wait!” Miri yells.

“What?”

“Try specifying a place not in the bathroom!”

“But I don’t mind the bathroom. We don’t want to pop up in a public place, or on the train tracks and get run over.”

“Squashed like grape,” she says, and then laughs.

“Like what?” I ask.

“It’s a
Karate Kid
reference. Corey would get it.”

Begin rolling of eyes. I try again.

With a jolt we return to a bathroom stall in the railway station. I creak open the door and spot a woman applying lipstick in front of the mirror.

“Hello,” I say nonchalantly.

She ignores us.

I hurry out, push open the bathroom door, rush to the aboveground platform, and hide behind a pillar while we wait for the train to arrive. I check my phone. “With a minute to go! Way to go, us. We are the masters!”

“We are pretty good,” she agrees. “So,” she says, “what’s the story with you and Adam?”

My heart speeds up, but I try to ignore it. “No story. Why would you ask that?”

“I saw you dancing with him.
Slow
dancing.”

“It was just a dance,” I say, paying way too much attention to the tracks.

“Does he know you have a boyfriend?” she asks.

I shrug. “It hasn’t come up.”

I feel her eyes on me. “It hasn’t come up, or you haven’t told him?”

The train pulls in, so I don’t have to answer.

The passengers file out and we join their march down the stairs to the parking lot. We spot Dad, Jennifer, and Prissy waiting by the car. Could we have planned this any better? We might never take the train again. Why should we? We’ll just pretend to be on it.

We wave and hurry over.

“Hi, girls,” he says.

“Hi, Dad!” we chirp.

Jennifer looks at us and then around us. “Where are your bags?”

Miri and I look down at our empty hands and then at each other. Whoopsies.

We were so busy getting ready for the party that we for-got to pack. Sure, we leave toothbrushes and pajamas at Dad’s, but never
good
clothes. (’Cause why would we need good clothes in Long Island? If we liked them, we’d want to wear them to school.)

“Did you forget your bag on the train?” Dad asks, getting ready to sprint for it.

“No,” I say. “We forgot them at home.”

Both Jennifer and my dad look at us as though we are total morons.

“Your homework too?” Dad asks.

“Yup,” I say.

Dad shakes his head. “That was dumb.”

“Yup,” we admit.

“You can borrow whatever you want of mine,” Jennifer offers.

“Me too!” Prissy chirps. “Borrow mine! Mine! I have a princess dress and it’s pink and it would look pretty on both of you.”

Excellent. Miri and I will be sharing a princess dress to Samsorta lessons. We’ll look really hot.

Not that I care about looking hot.

Because I don’t.

My dad unlocks the doors with a click. “I’m getting you guys some new vitamins. B12 is good for forgetfulness.”

“Maybe we’ll get you some new clothes, too,” Jennifer says. “Clothes you can leave here.”

Yay! Jennifer is so thoughtful. And we should forget our stuff more often. “You know,” I say, climbing into the back-seat, “I could really use a pair of black jeans.”

Kiss, Kiss

After dinner, Jennifer puts Prissy to bed, and we all sit down in the den.

“So, what’s new with you two?” Jennifer asks. “Tell us everything!”

Miri gives me a hopeful smile.

Is she kidding me? Now? I shake my head. We can’t just tell them our secret on a whim. We need to think it through. Have a plan. Warn Mom.

“Not much,” I say in a rush. “Nothing important. We’re really busy at school.”

Jennifer raises a perfectly arched brow. “So busy that you didn’t bring your homework?”

“We
forgot
our homework,” I say. Which is a bit of a problem. I’m supposed to study the difference between
im-parfait
and
passé composé
for a French test on Monday morning, plus finish
Animal Farm.
How exactly am I going to do that? Maybe I should zap myself over to the library, or back to Paris for a tutor. And I still haven’t figured out how Miri and I are sneaking out for three hours tomorrow…. Wait a sec. Problem solved! I am a genius. “Dad, could you drop us off at the library tomorrow for a few hours? I bet they’d have some of our books.”

“Sure,” my dad says. “Good idea. In the afternoon?”

“Say from four to seven? After shopping, of course,” I add.

Miri smiles.

Dad nods. “The library is right near the restaurant we’re going to for dinner. We’ll pick you up when you’re ready and go straight over.”

“Great!” I say. No napping spell necessary. Although
pretending
to be at the library won’t exactly help me with my French conjugation or reading
Animal Farm.
One problem at a time, I suppose.

After lots of chitchatting about homework, the weather, and morning sickness (fun times), we’re off to bed. My ears are still ringing from the music, but I close my eyes, ready for sleep.

“I have a question for you,” Miri says.

“Am I tired? Why, yes, I am.”

She giggles. “Not the question. Will you tell me how to kiss?”

I sit up. Adorableness!

Her face flushes. “To be honest, even though I was mad you didn’t leave us alone tonight during the good-byes, I was also relieved. I don’t know what to do if he kisses me. How do I know what to do with my tongue?”

“Miri, Miri, Miri.” Adorable, adorable, adorable. “You’ll just know.”

“Do you open your mouth right away? Or wait?”

“Don’t open your mouth right away. If you attack him, you’re definitely going to lose kissing points.”

“What points? There are points?”

“I’m kidding. Don’t worry. It’ll come naturally.”

“But what if I naturally want to open my mouth right away?”

“Keep your mouth closed. But parted a little.” I separate my fingers a half inch. “That much.”

She nods, looking very serious. “What about the tongues? Do they really touch?”

“They really touch.”

“I think I’d be less nervous if I could practice.”

“Practice on your pillow.” I pick mine up. “Oh, Corey,” I say fake lustfully, then smother my face in it.

“Don’t kiss my boyfriend!” she says. “You already have two of your own!”

I pick up my pillow/fake boyfriend and (gently) hit her with it.

Of course, after our little discussion, Miri falls right asleep. She’s smiling, too, and making kissy noises, so it’s not hard to imagine what she’s dreaming about.

But me? I’m back to staring at the ceiling. The room is too hot. My bed is too hard. My pillow is too fluffy.

And I’m wondering if kissing a regular guy and kissing a warlock feel any different.

After breakfast the next morning, we get dressed in yester-day’s clothes, then head to the mall. My dad agrees that it’s ridiculous for us not to have clothes at his place.

“Buy whatever you need for the winter,” he says. “Within reason, of course.”

My dad loves saying “within reason.” Not sure what he thinks Miri and I would do otherwise. Are we that unreasonable?

Don’t answer that.

Jennifer takes us to pick out extra undies and socks, and then we all meet up to get the black jeans and a few tops. The only problem is that both the tops I get are sweaters, which is perfect for the upcoming winter, but not ideal for Samsorta class in Arizona.

Actually, it was pretty cold in the classroom. Never mind. Maybe I’ll double up.

“Miri!” I scream up the stairs. “Let’s go! We’re going to be

late!”

“You’re going to be late for the library?” my dad asks,

grabbing his keys from the vestibule.

Whoops. “Late for
studying.
We have lots to cover.” A few minutes later she bounds down the stairs. Her

eyelids are all sparkly I see she’s dug into Jennifer’s

makeup case.

“Got all pretty for your boyfriend?” I tease.

She blows me a kiss. “Got all pretty for yours?”

Not funny! Fine, I might have explored Jennifer’s makeup case too. But it’s not because I care how I look. I just wanted to test out her colors. Note for next time: brown eye shadow is not a good idea. Prissy said I looked like a raccoon.

“I’ll pick you up at seven-fifteen,” Dad says, pulling up in front of the library. “We have a seven-thirty dinner reservation at Al Dente.”

“Thanks!” we say. Once he drives off, we head inside, find a deserted corner, and use some of the remaining go spell to zap ourselves into the girls’ bathroom at Lozacea.

In front of the mirror, we pick the concoction out of our hair.

“I think I prefer the battery spell,” I tell her. “At least it doesn’t leak on me.”

“Ready?” she asks. “Let’s go find the boys.”

I pinch her side. “Not boys, plural. Let’s go find Corey.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

But as soon as we exit the bathroom, the lights begin to flicker, so we go straight to class.

Kesselin Fizguin is drawing a pentacle on the board. And when I say drawing, I mean using chalk. And not pointing her finger at the board and wiggling it, which is what I would always do if I were a witch teacher.

“Who can tell me what this stands for?” she asks.

About half of the thirty or so girls in the room raise their hands, including my sister.

She points to Miri.

“Teacher’s pet,” I murmur.

“The five pillars of witchcraft,” my sister says, giving me a dirty look.

Fizguin nods. “Very good. Can you tell me what the five pillars of witchcraft are?”

“Truth, trust, courage, love, karma,” Miri sings.

How does she know everything?

“In Brixta, please,” the teacher says.

Miri blushes. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

Guess she doesn’t know
everything.

The teacher frowns. “You haven’t taken the Babel potion yet?”

Miri shakes her head. “No. Was I supposed to?”

“Go get some from the Potionary at the break,” Fizguin says. She points to Preppy Triplet. “Shari. Tell me what the five pillars of witchcraft are.”

“Mouli, misui, mustrom, mantis, macaney.”
Preppy Triplet’s teeth are very white. I glance at the other triplets’ mouths to see if their teeth are as pearly. Yup. Do they all go to the dentist at the same time? Can one get a cavity on her own, or is it across the board?

“Let’s start with the first one,” Fizguin is saying. “
Mouli
Truth. Tell me. Who does a witch have to be true to?”

“Her mom and dad?” someone says, and everyone laughs. Everyone except me and Miri.

“Yes, a witch should be truthful to her parents. But who’s even more important than her parents?”

Her boyfriend?

Viv raises her hand. “Herself.”

“Exactly. You should never lie to yourself. Pay close attention now as I tell you the story of Briana, one of our most important foremothers….”

It’s Saturday! I don’t want to pay attention! I want to watch TV and zone out.

“And what about
misui
?” Fizguin is asking.

Hmm? No idea what she’s talking about. Good thing Miri is still scribbling away.

Earthy Triplet raises her hand. “It means
trust,”
she says.

“Excellent.” Fizguin turns to write something on the board but keeps talking.

Ring! Ring!

Someone’s phone! How embarrassing.

Ring! Ring!

Oh, crapola. It’s mine. It’s not loud enough for Fizguin to hear, but it might be if she shuts up for a sec. I reach into my purse and fumble to turn it off. How do I make it stop ringing? There’s a Mute button somewhere. Where is it? I really should have read the instruction manual…. I look at the caller ID. Raf.
Raf!
I know I shouldn’t, but what else can I do?

“Hello?” I whisper, sinking into my seat.

“Hey!” he says, his voice sexy as always. “What’s up?”

“Um … nothing. You?”

“Why are you whispering?”

Because I shouldn’t be on the phone! “Because I’m …” Where could I be? Ack! “At the dentist.”

Miri snorts. I elbow her in the side.

“On a Saturday?”

“He’s a weekend dentist. It’s, um … his hobby.”

“You’re not allowed to talk when you’re at the dentist?” he teases.

“My mouth hurts. I have a cavity.” Just brilliant. “Can I call you later?” Fizguin is going to turn around any second!

“Sure. I’m going to the park, but I have my cell. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” I whisper, and close the phone.

Why didn’t I just tell him I was at the library? That would have made a lot more sense. I’m at the library studying
Animal Farm,
verb conjugation, trust, and truth.

And to be honest, I’m having some issues with that last one.