Rogelia's House of Magic (5 page)

“Yeah. It was weird. You got all panicky,” Fern said. “Then Rogelia and her granddaughter came in and Rogelia did some kick-ass witch-doctor stuff on you. God, it was
awesome
!”

“Right, awesome,” Marina said weakly.

Fern plopped back down on the trundle bed. “We
definitely
need to get to know those two.”

Marina stared at her closed door. Although she knew Fern was attracted to Rogelia because of her spiritual powers, Marina suddenly realized that she herself was interested in her family maid for an entirely different reason. When Rogelia caressed her head, Marina felt a pang in her heart for the grandmother she never had. The only problem was her mother. Rebecca Peralta didn’t really approve of socializing with the hired help. But maybe it was finally time for Marina to worry less about her mother’s ideals and figure out her own.

Six

T
wo days later, just after lunch on Wednesday, Fern gripped the steering wheel of Pilar Fuego’s beat-up Volvo, twisting the loose leather covering back and forth. She and her sister were parked in the virtually empty lot in front of Glassell High School, waiting to begin her third test drive. Fern could pretend she was in a race car if it wasn’t for the smashed pretzels and empty juice boxes littering the floor of her older sister’s station wagon. Pilar’s seven- and eight-year-old boys, Danny and Miguel, treated their mom’s old but dependable ride like their personal trash can.

The ice cream truck tootled down Flower Street to Fern’s left, blaring “La Cucaracha” over the crackling loudspeaker. Children raced after the truck joyfully, waving their dollar bills. Fern plucked at the sleeves of her Social Distortion cap-sleeved T-shirt, giving her arms plenty of room to move freely, and adjusted her purple-tinted sunglasses low on the bridge of her nose; then she turned up the volume of KROQ, the local alternative rock station.

“Fernandita, you shouldn’t drive with this many distractions.” Pilar turned the music off and pushed her wavy brown hair off her angular, almost regal face. “Let’s make this quick. I’ve got to pick up Danny and Miguel at the soccer field in an hour and run to Sports Galaxy after I drop you off at Marina’s.”

“Don’t get one of those lame T-shirts with ‘Soccer Mom’ plastered over the boobs in glitter,” Fern said.

“I would never,” Pilar said, looking offended. At twenty-seven, and pretty as well as hip, Pilar was not ready to advertise her mommy status across her chest. She pointed to the dashboard. “Okay, I know we’ve been over this, but repetition is the key to learning. We’re in park. Pull this stick thingy forward and down to drive and the indicator will move to ‘D’. Slowly—I mean,
slowly
—take your foot off the brake pedal and press down lightly on the gas pedal.”

Fern pulled the gearshift forward and down, and the car started to roll forward. “Is that the official word? ‘Thingy’?”

“No, it’s actually a thingamabob,” Pilar said sarcastically. “But since you’re only fifteen I thought I’d use a simple term. Brake!” She pointed to the cement foundation of a lamppost directly in their path.

Fern stomped both feet on the brake and they jerked to a stop. “Stop yelling. And I’m fifteen and a half. You know every month counts.” Fern turned the wheel away from the cement barrier, took her foot off the brake, and carefully pushed on the gas. They inched along at about ten miles an hour, rolling over the speed bumps as smoothly as possible. “Pilar, I’m not a child, you know. I’m a big girl now.”

“I suppose,” Pilar muttered.

“So will you let me drive on the street?” Fern pleaded.

“All right. Just for a little bit,” Pilar said. “Make a left out of the parking lot, but don’t go onto Bristol Street. Just drive through the neighborhood.”

Delighted, Fern made a wide turn out of the parking lot onto Flower Street, almost bumping a parked car, and made a right at a stop sign. A ball shot out between two parked cars, followed by a small boy. Fern slammed on the brakes.
Maybe the parking lot wasn’t so bad after all,
she thought, watching the boy grab his ball and wave at her. She waved back weakly before proceeding.

After a few more minutes of slow, cautious driving, Fern looked sideways at her sister. She was burning to tell her about last night’s ritual. Maybe she could ask her about Rogelia. “So Marina and I did some magic last night.”

“You mean like with a Ouija board? You shouldn’t be messing with that sort of thing,” Pilar lectured in her most annoying big-sister tone.

“It wasn’t like that.” Fern bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from saying anything more. She tried to backpedal. “We lit candles, like in church. You know, for a prayer.”

“You shouldn’t be playing with matches, either,” Pilar warned.

Fern rolled her eyes. When would Pilar get over this protector routine?

“If you forgot to put out a candle and something caught fire, I’d be in trouble.” Pilar quickly spat out the words.

Fern was completely caught off guard. “
You’d
be in trouble?”

“Remember the time you dropped my curling iron on your arm?” Pilar said defensively. “Your blister was the size of a tangerine.”

“I was three!” Fern exclaimed. “What did you expect?” Fern glanced over at Pilar before turning down another street.

“And I was only fifteen. How could anyone have expected me to be responsible for you then?” Pilar folded her arms over her chest in a very characteristic manner.

“I didn’t ask to be the youngest in the family,” Fern snapped. “No one’s ever around. Mom and Dad are always out dancing or on some second honeymoon.”

“Being the oldest was no picnic,” Pilar retorted. “Ramon and Raymond got all the privileges since they were boys. I had to wear dresses, tights, and party shoes every day when we lived in Colombia. And you get to run around barefoot with twigs in your hair.” Pilar pulled something out of Fern’s tangled locks and threw it out the open window.

“Why take it out on me?” Fern turned to glare at Pilar, forgetting momentarily that she was driving a two-thousand-ton car. Without warning the road took a sharp bend to the left. Fern felt a powerful bump as the car went straight over the curb. A painful jolt shot under her rib cage, and her head whipped straight back. The car ran over the sidewalk into a low wall three bricks high, smashed hard into a chain-link fence, and settled on top of it. In immense shock, Fern watched a few grapefruits fall from the tree in front of her.

A slightly built man with a barrel chest, a large mustache, and a Caesar haircut bolted out of the house, down the asphalt driveway with grass in the cracks, and up to the broken chain-link fence. Pilar jumped out of the car and approached the man, who had begun yelling in rapid Spanish as soon as he saw all the damage. In her patent-leather knee-high boots, Pilar stood a couple of inches taller than the man.

Fern slumped over and rested her head on the steering wheel. Her arms dangled by her sides. She stared down at the fringes of her batik miniskirt as her eyes teared up. She’d never get her driver’s license with an accident report before she even got her learner’s permit.

“Are you okay?” a voice asked.

Fern jerked her head up. A really hot guy, probably sixteen or seventeen, with shoulder-length hair and gorgeous liquid brown eyes, was crouched outside her car, looking in her window. His long eyelashes and perfect complexion mesmerized Fern. Her heart thumped wildly against her chest as she checked out his muscular build through his white tank. Her eyes fell on the tribal-looking tattoo wrapped around his fine bicep.

“Are you hurt?” Even his voice was hot.

“No, I’m fine,” Fern purred. He had long, graceful fingers. Piano fingers, her mother would have said. She wanted to reach out and touch his silky-smooth reddish brown skin, but when she stared into his eyes again, the oddest thing happened. Flickers of light flashed like several small stars around his head. The lights sparked on and off at random. It was like watching a miniature fireworks show. She whipped off her sunglasses for a better look.

The surge of loud voices caught her attention, and Fern turned to look through the windshield. Pilar and the man were shouting at each other, but to Fern’s utter surprise, Xochitl stood behind the man. In the middle of all the commotion, she heard Xochitl say,
“Papá, fue un accidente.
It was an accident.”

“Dad”? This was
Xochitl’s
house? Fern unbuckled her seat belt and started to get out of the car, but the hot guy was blocking her way. Not that she cared.

“I saw that you were barely moving, and—I thought…,” he stammered, then smiled. “My name is Tristán.”

Fern watched curiously as the flickers above his head dulled, then turned into a gray light that billowed and grew. She had no idea what to make of it. Had she hit her head on the steering wheel or something?

“What’s your name?” Tristán asked.

Wake up,
she told herself.
Give him your name before he decides you aren’t worth his time.
“Fern,” she finally blurted out.

“Well, I’m really glad you’re okay, Fern,” Tristán said.

Fern was about to give him her best smile when to her horror, the gray cloud spread down Tristán’s head and over his shoulders. Fern rubbed her eyes hard to make sure some dirt or accident debris hadn’t flown into them and distorted her vision, but when she opened them, the grayness hadn’t gone away.

Whatever that is, it can’t be good,
she thought.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tristán asked, his chocolate brown eyes filled with concern.

Fern stared at Tristán and that ugly gray light. She usually didn’t mind a little danger or the unexplained, but that gray color was so lifeless and bleak, it terrified her. When she turned and looked at the other people on the scene, everyone seemed normal. Fern was so freaked out by it that she thought it might be best to ditch him as soon as possible. She opened the car door and stepped out.

“Yes, I am,” Fern said reassuringly.

Tristán momentarily touched Fern’s shoulder. Prickles of white-hot electricity raced through Fern’s entire body. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.” He shuffled his feet from side to side, as if he was a little nervous.

How cute,
Fern thought. At that moment the gray light began to pulse all around him. She shrank away from him. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’ve got to talk to my sister,” she said.

“Yeah, of course,” Tristán said.

Fern gave him a closed-lip, semismile but then hesitated a moment to look into his beautiful eyes.
Should I give him my number?
she wondered. But then he smiled and turned to leave. Fern fell back into the car seat. As she watched Tristán walk across the street, she could see the gray cloud following him like a pending thunderstorm. Which meant Fern wouldn’t be running after him, at least not today.

Before Fern could get back out of the car, Pilar was already climbing into the passenger seat. Fern leaned back as if she was expecting her big sister to rip into her.

“Everything’s okay. I told Mr. Garcia that we’ll pay for the damage,” Pilar said soothingly. She put a hesitant but reassuring hand on Fern’s shoulder. “And we’ll take care of this without Mom and Dad.”

With a great sigh, Fern relaxed her shoulders, which had been hunched up somewhere around her ears. “Thank you
so much,
Pilar,” she said.

“You should thank that daughter of his. She’s the one who calmed him down and got him to listen to me,” Pilar said while searching through her pocketbook. “I’m going to write him a check, and then you’re going to pay me back with cheap babysitting labor. Got that, Fern?”

“Okay,” Fern said distractedly. Although she was grateful that Pilar was helping her and not chewing her out, she was really moved to hear about what Rogelia’s granddaughter had done. Fern wanted to thank her, but when she looked out the window, Mr. Garcia also seemed to be searching for Xochitl, who was suddenly nowhere to be found.

That was weird. Hadn’t she just been out there a second ago?

“I’ll be right back,” Pilar said as she ripped a check from her checkbook. “And you should get comfortable in the passenger seat.”

Fern had a feeling that this test drive with Pilar might be her last, but as she looked around the neighborhood for a sign of either Xochitl or Tristán, she hoped she hadn’t seen the last of them.

Seven

M
oments later, Xochitl ducked down an alley around the corner from her house. The deafening sound of Fern’s car crashing into their fence had reminded her of the horrible accident that had killed Graciela. Now that Xochitl was away from the mangled fence and the car sitting haphazardly on her lawn, she could begin to relax. Slowly she imagined that with each breath she was pumping her body back into the realm of visibility. The colors of her skin, clothes, and hair filled in like a magical watercolor painting until her body became solid once again.

The sun’s rays beat down on Xochitl’s brown skin, giving her a toasty feeling, the total opposite of the clamminess and fear she’d felt at the accident scene. She closed her eyes, wishing she could be hanging out with Graciela back home right now. She needed some comfort. Without her sister, Xochitl felt terribly vulnerable.

“Graciela,” Xochitl begged quietly, “please come visit me. I need to talk to you.” She sighed, exasperated. She never thought it would be so difficult to speak to her sister’s spirit.

Aside from an orange tabby cat that scampered across the cement-covered alley that ran between the rows of houses, there wasn’t a person in sight. She stepped onto Occidental Street and peered into the crowds of people walking up and down the sidewalk but saw no familiar face.

Xochitl stared into the large sycamore trees growing up from the parkway, hoping to catch a glimpse of her sister in their branches. Graciela had been her anchor, her rock. The idea of her twin being dead was too final. She looked up to the sky, longing to see her sister’s face in a cloud formation.

“Graciela, please. I can’t stand this loneliness anymore,” Xochitl begged.

When nothing happened, a wave of desperate isolation washed over Xochitl. She needed to talk with someone or to be with someone she knew. Then Xochitl thought of Nana, who was at the Peralta house and had said Xochitl could come see her anytime she needed. So Xochitl set off toward the bus stop at the next corner. She shaded her eyes to look down the street. A bus slowly rumbled toward her.

In front of the bus, Fern and her sister drove along in their station wagon. Pilar honked the horn as Fern leaned out the passenger-side window, yelling and waving. They pulled the car over to the sidewalk a few feet before the bus stop while the bus came to a halt right in front of Xochitl.

Xochitl hesitated. She looked from the bus to Fern, who had jumped out of the car and was heading straight toward her. The door of the bus opened, and the driver, an old man with a toupee like a rat’s nest, glowered down at her. “Are you coming or not?” he growled.

As Fern approached, she gave Xochitl a broad, easygoing smile. She remembered what Nana had said about needing friends. Xochitl gathered all her inner strength and shook her head at the driver. “No, I’m staying,” she said.

Xochitl watched the bus rumble off, leaving a cloud of toxic fumes in its wake.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you,” Fern said. “I wanted to say thanks, but then you disappeared on me.” Fern hesitated as she turned to look at the back of the retreating bus. “Were you going somewhere?”

“I was going to see my nana,” Xochitl said.

“If she’s at Marina’s house, we can take you,” Fern suggested. “I’m spending the night. Come on, my sister Pilar will drive us.” Fern held up her index and middle fingers and crossed them. “I promise I won’t get behind the wheel.”

Xochitl laughed. “Okay.”

Fern led the way to the car. As she opened the back door, she gave Xochitl a once-over, “Isn’t it hot in those pants?” she asked, then hopped into the backseat.

“Not really.” Xochitl followed Fern into the station wagon. The truth was, Xochitl was a little hot, but since she didn’t have a lot of clothes, there hadn’t been a wide selection to choose from this morning.

“Pilar, this is Xochitl. She’s going to Marina’s house with us.”

Pilar twisted around from the driver’s seat. “It’s nice to meet you, Xochitl. Sorry about your fence. We’ll get it fixed.”

Xochitl nodded. “Thanks.”

Fern turned sideways to face Xochitl. “So what are you and your nana going to do?” she asked.

“I don’t know. She isn’t really expecting me,” Xochitl said, looking out the window. There were lots of antiques shops, a bank or two, an Irish pub, and an old-fashioned soda shop. There wasn’t an empty lot or a patch of dirt to be seen. She couldn’t get over how many cars there were, or how impatiently people drove in California.

“Why don’t you hang out with me and Marina?” Fern suggested.

Xochitl bit her lip and didn’t answer at first. “I would not want to impose,” she said rather formally. This was all moving a little fast for her.

“Oh, no. It would be great to have you with us,” Fern said enthusiastically. “Marina and I were just saying the other day how much we wanted to get to know you.”

“Really?” Xochitl turned around. She scanned Fern’s topaz-colored eyes, hoping she was sincere.

“Yeah, really,” Fern replied earnestly.

They pulled up in the long circular driveway in front of Marina’s large beige Tudor-style house. Jasmine grew along the frame of the house, up the turret, and around several huge windows. Palm trees stood in clumps on the bright green front lawn. Xochitl couldn’t get over how much the Peralta house looked like a miniature palace.

“Thanks for the ride, Pilar,” Fern said as she jumped out of the car. “And for, well, for everything.”

“What are big sisters for?”

Marina came out the front door wearing a midnight blue sarong covered with sequins and a magenta bathing-suit top. She strolled up to Pilar’s car. A blast of heat enveloped Xochitl as she exited the station wagon.

“Have fun!” Pilar called as she drove away.

“Marina, Xochitl is going to hang with us!” Fern said excitedly. “And I’ve got some juicy news to share.”

“Awesome,” Marina said, smiling at Xochitl. “Let’s get inside. The air-conditioning is on. Man, it’s baking out here.”

Marina led Xochitl and Fern up the flagstone walkway to the house. On either side of the path, white roses bloomed alongside lavender bushes and irises. “Can you swim, Xochitl?” Marina asked as she opened the oaken, Spanish-style front door to reveal a large, terra-cotta-tiled entryway. “I’m dying in this heat, and I was just waiting for Fern to get here so I could take a dip in the pool.”

“I used to swim in the river at home,” Xochitl said, staring at the vaulted ceilings.

“Great,” Marina said. “I’ve got a suit for you. Fern, did you bring yours?”

“I’m wearing it,” Fern replied, showing off the red strings tied at the back of her neck. “So let me tell you—”

“In a minute, Ferny; let’s get settled. Xochitl, can you stay the night?” Marina asked. “My family’s at the movies. They’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“Well, I should call my dad,” Xochitl said, slowly returning her gaze to Marina.

Marina grabbed a cordless phone from the shelf of an antique hall tree and handed it to her. Xochitl smiled shyly and took the phone. She looked into Marina’s eyes and saw a lot of kindness in them. Xochitl hadn’t intended to stay overnight, but now that she was here, it seemed like a good idea.

“We’ll wait for you in my room.” Marina turned and headed down the hall.

Xochitl wandered into the living room. She stepped onto the plush carpet lined with vacuum paths.

Fern’s voice drifted to Xochitl from the hallway. “So I crashed Pilar’s car and met this really cute guy.”

“Well, it’s early, something exciting could still happen,” Marina teased.

“But there’s more,” Fern replied. Their voices were cut off when Marina’s bedroom door closed.

Xochitl sat on the upholstered beige couch and dialed her home number. Her father picked up right away.
“¿Bueno?”

“Papá, it’s Xochitl.”

“Where have you been?” asked Mr. Garcia. “You disappeared
again,
didn’t you?”

Xochitl didn’t respond. Her father just didn’t understand how much that scene was like the accident in Mexico.

“Where are you?” Mr. Garcia asked.

“I’m at the Peraltas’,” she replied.

“Good. Nana is with you,” her father said, comforted.

“Marina asked me if I can spend the night,” Xochitl said. “Can I?”

“Yes. It will be good for you to be around people your own age,” Mr. Garcia said. “But I want you to check in with your nana.”

Xochitl walked to her nana’s room in the garage. She could hear Marina and Fern giggling across the hall. She knocked on Nana’s door three times and then opened it slowly.

“What are you doing here?” Nana said, setting the iron upright. She had been using it to press a taupe linen dress that looked like it must belong to Mrs. Peralta. Nana turned down her radio, silencing the man singing a bolero.

“Fern’s sister Pilar brought me,” Xochitl explained, glancing at the pile of clothes yet to be ironed. Suddenly it felt a little strange to be hanging out with one of the people who employed her nana. “I’m spending the night.”

“Que bueno.”
Nana smiled. “That’s very good. I knew they would be a nice match for you.”

Xochitl bit back the words she was longing to say. Everyone thought they knew what was best for her. “Yeah, well, I’m going to go now,” Xochitl said. And yet, she thought as she walked across the hall to Marina’s room, being in a house like this and meeting new friends was all she had dreamed about only three months ago.

When Xochitl opened Marina’s bedroom door, she saw Marina digging into her chest of drawers, which matched the desk, which matched the bed, which matched the nightstand. Xochitl also noticed the garish pink and green decorations. Yikes.

Marina threw Xochitl a yellow bikini. “Here ya go.”

Xochitl held up the tiny bathing suit. “Um, don’t you have anything bigger?”

“Marina only has bikinis,” Fern said. “She likes to show off her curves.”

“Nah-uh,” Marina protested.

Xochitl continued to examine the little yellow patches of material, wishing she could make the thing grow.

“Oh yeah? Then how come you wear triangle tops, which only happen to make the most of your bodacious cleavage?” Fern retorted, throwing out her chest for emphasis. She then turned to Xochitl. “Last year, Marina would be all insulted if any guy even noticed she had a big chest. This summer she’s all about flaunting it.”

“I’m
not
flaunting it,” Marina shot back, turning red in the face. “Triangle tops are the only ones that cover my, my…girls.”

Fern burst out laughing.

“You know I don’t like being so big,” Marina said.

Xochitl mused how strange it was that Marina and Fern were talking so intimately about body parts. She had never discussed anything like this with anyone but Graciela.

“Wear a tankini, then,” Fern suggested.

Marina shook her head. “No way. How would I show off my tan tummy?”

“You’re one messed-up chicky,” Fern said with a shake of her copper curls.

“Hmph,” Marina snorted. “At least I can be compassionate about feeling shy. I totally understand if you don’t want to wear this, Xochitl.” Marina took back the yellow bikini, pulled open another drawer, and took out a black one-piece suit. “I wear this to pool parties. When I’m not in the mood to show off anything,” she said pointedly to Fern.

Fern shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

“Can I have a T-shirt, too?” Xochitl asked.

“Sure.” Marina took out a superlarge dark blue T-shirt with a soccer ball streaking across the front, and handed it to Xochitl.

“Thanks,” Xochitl sighed.

The pool at the Peralta house was kidney-bean shaped and surrounded by large rocks. Between the rocks grew birds-of-paradise, king palms, and several plumeria trees in full bloom, sending their sweet, soft perfume into the air. Xochitl stared in amazement at the waterfall at the far end of the pool, which made a gentle gurgling sound, and the dragonfly twinkle lights strung copiously over the latticework around the patio. The opulent beauty of the backyard felt like forbidden fruit. How could she really let herself enjoy all this with Graciela gone?

Marina stepped down the tiled pool stairs, carefully testing the water. “It’s a saltwater pool. No chemicals.”

“Hooray for no chemicals!” Fern did a cannonball, sending water all over Marina and the blue slate deck.

Marina retaliated by squeezing water between the palms of her hands, creating a stream directly aimed at Fern when she resurfaced.

“Ahh!” Fern yelled.

Xochitl stepped back to avoid getting wet and to distance herself from Marina and Fern. Their playfulness reminded her of the closeness she had shared with her sister, and it was making her ache all over.

Marina dove into the water and then popped back up a few seconds later, her hair glistening. “Come on, Xochitl. The water feels great!”

“Don’t make me come get you,” Fern warned, wagging a finger in Xochitl’s direction.

Xochitl paused for a moment longer. Even though she might feel a little uncomfortable and out of place, she longed for companionship. When she had left Guadalajara, she had hoped for exciting adventures, new friends, and big opportunities. She seemed to have it all at her fingertips now. She just needed to convince herself to go for it. Xochitl took a deep breath and made up her mind and dove cleanly into the pool. The cool freshness of the water changed her entire attitude almost instantly. She swam the length of the pool before taking a breath.

“You’re a good swimmer,” Fern observed.

“Race you!” Marina challenged.

“I’m out,” Fern said as she dog-paddled to the opposite end of the pool. “I’ll ref you two, though.”

“All right,” Xochitl said, pushing her wet black hair out of her eyes. She smiled shyly, then took off the T-shirt and placed it on the pool deck.

“Ready, set, go!” Fern called.

Xochitl cut through the water like an Olympic gold medalist. Every weekend, she and Graciela would float down the river and then race back against the current. Xochitl easily passed Marina and touched the end of the pool first.

Fern whistled. “She smoked you!”

“Wanna race again?” Xochitl asked with a surprising amount of enthusiasm.