Parties & Potions #4 (17 page)

“Did you eat anything funky? Besides the mac and cheese, I mean. That stuff is gross. This is why it’s better to learn languages the old-fashioned way. Fewer complications.”

“Ki biz com hindo ut ficci. Diut! Kaf fir bitard bi ry. Dout sak vu tre ry?”
The mustard! Raf’s mustard!

“I don’t see why any of those would affect the Babel potion.” She plays with the tip of her short hair. “I’m wondering if it’s something else. A witch is supposed to speak from the heart, you know? And language is a tool to speak from the heart, to communicate what’s inside. If you hide what’s inside, the language gets tangled up, and if you’re tangled, your words are tangled, especially if it has something to do with your magic. Following?”

I shake my head.

“You need to be honest and true!”

I slap my palm against my forehead.
“Ahhh!”
Apparently,
“ahhh”
is the same in Brixta as in English.
“
i
g bin Ig dkhy nor!”
I’m as honest as I can be!

She looks at me dubiously. “Are you?”

“Yes! I’m not telling anyone anything,” I huff in Brixta. “Do you know how to fix me?”

“I may be able to whip something up if you come by after school. I’m hoping to be a potionist one day, you know.”

Why am I not surprised?
“Bur that yitten Raf.”
But I have plans with Raf.
“Isht ik faten igo?”
What am I supposed to tell him?

“The truth?”

Not! I’ll take the non-potentially-life-altering fix, thanks.
“Kip kifel, fo tribe,”
I tell her, miming the act of writing for her. I’ll speak, you write.

She zaps up a pen and paper. Normally, I would chastise her for using magic in school, but I think we’re beyond that at this point. She translates my Brixta as follows:

I instruct her to use lots of exclamation points.

“How should I sign it?” she asks.

Argh! There is no time to make such a potentially relationship-altering decision right now. XO? Hugs & wishes? Not. Love? He wrote
love;
I can write
love,
right?

But that was on a birthday card and this is at school! A school note should not show as much affection as a birthday card. A school note gets tossed; a birthday card gets saved. Luv, maybe?

Yes. Luv

I somehow manage to find the Brixta words to explain to Wendaline the difference between
love
and
luv.

“Are you going to give it to him?” she asks.

“Ooga!”
I say, which means
no.
Which makes me laugh. Ooga? That’s supposed to be musical? Maybe for a band of gorillas.

I tell Wendaline—in Brixta—to slip it into Raf’s locker, and off we go.

Rocks Ahead

“Oh, good, Rachel, you’re finally home,” Mom says later that afternoon. She and Miri are sitting at the kitchen table, a stack of papers in front of them. “Where were you?”

“Communication difficulties,” I say.

Miri raises an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Nothing that olive oil and a chopped onion couldn’t cure,” I say with a sigh. Wendaline reversed the effect, and now I’m back to being multilingual. “But I wouldn’t get too close to me if I were you. I’m kind of smelly. What are you doing?”

“Our Samsorta invitation list!” Miri squeals.

Huh? “But we have no one to invite!”

Miri points to a list of about thirty names. “Not true! Mom has a ton of family who would all be insulted if they didn’t get invitations.”

I glance at the names. Regina and Stephen Kelp. Moira Dalven. Jan and Josh Morgenstein. Who are these people? “Mom, this is crazy. You excommunicated yourself from the witchcraft community. You haven’t spoken to any of these people in at least twenty years. I’ve never even heard of them.”

Mom shrugs. “They’re extended family. If we’re going to do this, we have to do this properly.”

“Why? I thought you didn’t even want to do this!”

“Rachel,” Miri says, “it’s a great opportunity for us to be more in touch with our roots.”

“I guess.” I spot Liana and Sasha Graff on the list and my fists clench. “Why are you inviting them?”

“I have to. Sasha’s my sister,” Mom says.

“Your
evil
sister! And anyway, Liana didn’t invite us to hers.”

“Maybe, but two wrongs don’t make a right. Besides, we weren’t speaking then.”

“But you’re barely speaking now!”

“Rachel, please don’t be difficult.”

“Why not? My life is difficult! I have to go to school for six days a week instead of five and I smell like onion!”

She looks me in the eye. “Don’t act like I didn’t warn you that having a Samsorta was a major undertaking.”

Humph. I hate I-told-you-so’s. I mean, if she had some-thing important to say, then she should have told me how important it was before! Er. Anyway. “I’m going to do my homework.”

“Okay, but sit here for a second,” Mom says. “Miri was right: the Samsorta is a great opportunity for the three of us to spend some quality family time together.”

I knew that this Samsorta was going to be trouble. I be-grudgingly pull up a chair.

“Oh, and don’t make any plans for tomorrow after school,” Mom adds.

“Too late,” I say. “I have plans with Raf.” Kind of. Pro-posed plans, at least.

“Cancel them!” Miri exclaims. “We’re going to Georgina’s Paperie!”

“What’s that?”

“You mean ‘who,’ ” Mom says. “She’s the stationer. I’ve heard she’s all the rage. And the best part is that she’s here in New York. We were lucky to get an appointment. This is her busiest time, you know.”

“You heard? Who did you
hear
from?” The only person she talks to is Lex. “You didn’t join Mywitchbook too, did you?” She has a profile before I do? Hello, that’s so embarrassing.

“No, dear, I finally started reading the newsletter.” She shuffles the papers in front of her. “We need you, Rachel. You have a good eye.”

Flattery will get you everywhere. “Fine, I’ll be there.” Not sure why we can’t just zap up invites, but maybe it’s like a haircut. Sometimes you gotta trust a professional.

“Also, don’t make plans for Sunday morning,” she says. “I have a special surprise for you two.”

I perk up. “What is it?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

After fifteen minutes of bonding time, I’m allowed to go to my room to start my homework and call Raf. Big surprise—I decide to call Raf first.

“How’s your tooth?” he asks. “Is your mouth still frozen?”

“Yes,” I say, then realize I should make my mouth sound frozen. “Ya.” How do I make it sound frozen? I stick my finger between my lips so it doesn’t close all the way.

“So, are we on for tomorrow?”

“Oh, uh … umorrow’s no ’ood—” Ouch! I just bit my finger. Forget it. I am not going to make it through this whole conversation with a fake speech impediment. I’m just going to speak normally and hope he doesn’t notice. It’s not like he’d think I’d
make up
a cavity. Who does that? “I forgot I promised Miri I’d help her with something.” Not a terrible excuse. Vague and less gross than getting cavities filled. No frozen mouth necessary. I jiggle my bitten finger till it stops stinging.

“I can help too, if you want,” he says. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh! Thanks! That’s so sweet of you … but it’s a girl thing.”

“Oh, okay.” Pause.

“So what else is up?” I ask.

“Um, on Saturday, my parents wanted to invite you for dinner. It’s my dad’s birthday, and he wants to take all of us out.”

Awkward. The last time I had dinner with the Kosravis, I went as Will’s date. And Raf brought Melissa.

It was pretty miserable.

“Great,” I say. It has to be better this time if I’m going as Raf’s date. And I really like Will’s girlfriend, Kat. I’ve barely seen her since school started. She must be super-busy with student council. She is the president, after all. Maybe I should run for student council president when I’m a senior. Or maybe I should run for president of the United States! The first witch president!

Unless there already have been magical presidents.

“What time is dinner?” I ask.

“Seven-thirty at Kim Shing in Midtown. I’ll come get you and we can go together.”

“I have a busy weekend,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I better just meet you there.”

The next day, after school, we’re in Georgina’s Upper East Side apartment, looking at sample invitations.

Georgina is stunning. She has long glossy black hair and could easily be a model if she ever wanted to give up stationery She does more than just Samsortas, too. She has Simsorta invites, wedding invites, and Wishing invites.

“What’s a Wishing?” Miri asks.

“Oh, you know,” Georgina says with a wave of her hand. “When you have a baby, you invite all the witches in your family over so they can bestow her with a wish. Brains, beauty, compassion, a beautiful singing voice, painting skills, dancing skills … I’m sure you girls had one.” She smiles knowingly.

Wow. Just like
Sleeping Beauty.
I wonder what I got. Um … not dancing skills… not beauty …

My mother giggles nervously. “That was so long ago, who remembers?”

“I think that means we didn’t have one,” Miri says.

“Thanks, Mom. It’s not like brains and beauty are things we could use.”

“You guys are perfect just the way you are,” Mom says. “And you both have fantastic skills all on your own! Like your math skills, and your Tae Kwon Do skills… Let’s try to focus on the present.”

Grumble.

Georgina’s invitations are not in sample books. They wouldn’t fit, because Georgina’s invites are not your typical invitations. Some examples:

A sunflower, with the date, time, and place inscribed on the petals.

Candles that, when lit, write the information in smoke.

Fridge magnets that magically spell out the info.

“Anything you like?” she asks us.

“I like all of them!” Who needs boring paper invites? These are in 3-D.

“Do you have a theme in mind?” she asks.

A witch ball isn’t enough of a theme?

“Since we’re doing it together,” Miri says, “maybe it can have a sisters theme?”

“Sisters. I like it. Let me think.” Georgina rubs her fingers against her temples. “I’m seeing paper dolls. Two of them!”

I love paper dolls! “The linked kind?”

“Yes! Fabulous!” says Georgina, hands flailing. “When you open the envelope, they’ll burst into song with the pertinent information! I’ll make the girls look just like the two of you! They’ll even sing like you! And dance like you!”

My mom picks at her thumbnail. “Hmm, maybe not. They’re not exactly the best dancers. Or singers.”

“Whose fault is that?” I snap. “You deprived of us of our Wishing!”

“I thought we were perfect just the way we are,” Miri says.

She ignores us both. “Georgina, can we see the sun-flower invitations again?”

An hour later, we’ve settled on a New York theme—a snow-globe-sized Times Square replica. The news ticker will list all the party info. Very cool, no?

When I get home, I head to my room to do some home-work, and Miri heads to the computer to check—wait for it—Mywitchbook. I think she might be addicted.

A few minutes later she stomps through the apartment. “Mom?” I hear her yell through the walls. “Corey and his friends all went skiing! Can I meet them?”

“It’s already seven o’clock! It’s getting dark!”

“Not here. In the Canadian Rockies! In Whistler! It’s only four there. Can I go? Please? Only for a bit!”

“It’s still September in Vancouver! There can’t be snow!”

“They make snow!” Miri says. “And it’s really high up. Please?”

“Is Rachel going?” Mom asks.

“No!” I scream back through the wall.

“Yes,” Miri says.

Mom laughs. “You’re too young to go out with boys on your own. You can only go if Rachel goes.”

Gee, thanks, Mom. No pressure.

“And since it’s a school night, you have to be back by nine—New York time. And you both have to wear your helmets. And one of you has to call me as soon as you get there.”

Miri bursts into my room. “Get dressed!”

I look down at my jeans and T-shirt. “Am I naked?”

“For skiing.”

“Miri, I don’t want to go skiing. I need to do my home-work.”

“But everyone is skiing! It’s not just Corey! It’s every-one! Adam’s there.” She gives me a mischievous grin.

My heart skips a beat. I have no time for Raf, but I have time for Adam? “I don’t know, Mir—”

“Mom won’t let me go without you. Please? How perfect would it be if my first kiss was on a chairlift? That is so romantic! Please!”

I do like to ski… and I haven’t been since the trips to Stowe….

The view from the mountain is like a postcard. Blues, greens, and whites swirl around me like I’m doing some sort of motion spell. I take a deep breath. Ah. As soon as we zapped ourselves over to the ski hill (we Appeared in a bathroom in the chalet at the very top), I transformed my regular shoes into ski boots, a lip gloss into poles, and pieces of spearmint Trident gum into skis. My poles are pink and my skis are mint green. They definitely clash, but I had to work with what was in my purse.

Miri and Corey are snowboarding, but I prefer old-school skis. I call my mom to tell her we made it in one piece.

“Be careful,” she warns. “Stay on the bunny hills. You haven’t skied in a while.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Where’s Miri?”

“Talking to Corey.” I wave to my sister, and she waves back. I make a kissy face. She turns beet red. Tee hee.

“I can’t wait to meet the infamous Corey,” Mom says. “Have fun. Don’t be home too late. No night skiing.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Love you,” she says.

“Love you too.”

I’m about to stuff the phone into my jacket pocket when it rings again. It’s Raf.

“Hi!” I say.

“What’s up?”

I glance around at the mountainous view. If only I could tell him! “Not much. You?”