Selfish Elf Wish (9 page)

Grove steps closer to the couch. He towers over Briar, who cowers in the fold of the red vinyl behind her. Grove doesn’t have the most powerful magic in our family because he’s spent most of his energy on playing music with my dad, but still, he’s stronger than Briar and I are. I hear his voice in my head.
If you ever want to see the inside of this club again, you’ll get your things and be out front in three minutes.

Briar pops up from the couch. “Fine,” she mutters.

 

After we drop Ari, Mercedes, and Timber at their houses, Grove drives Dad’s van through the empty streets of Brooklyn. He’s been silent the entire way, except to say a terse good-bye to our friends. As we near the park, he clears his throat.

“Do you know what could happen if someone caught you casting spells?” he asks.

“Ugh!” Briar groans from the second row of seats. “We only made her belch. What’s the big deal?”

“It was my fault,” I say to Grove. “I made Briar promise not to cast spells tonight, but then I got mad and ...”

“What’d you mean you made her promise?” Grove asks. “Have you been casting other spells, Briar?”

“No,” she says.

“She wants to,” I tell him, like a little kid tattling, then suddenly I’m mad at her for talking me into doing it tonight. I spin around to face her. “And what was wrong with you? Were you drunk?”

Briar crosses her arms and huffs. “I already told you I wasn’t drinking. Clay gave me a Red Bull. It made me feel zippy.”

“You were acting really stupid,” I say.

She rolls her eyes. “That’s called having fun, Zephyr. Ever hear of it?”

Grove sighs and stops for a red light. He turns in his seat to look at both of us. “You’re both idiots. This isn’t Alverland. It’s not okay to use your magic. Ever. Especially for something as stupid as that. You jeopardized all of us tonight. And you, of all people,” he says to me. “You should know better. You already did this once. If I told Mom and Dad—”

“Don’t!” Briar says, sitting up straight now. “We got carried away. That’s all. It wasn’t a big deal and it won’t happen again.”

Grove stares at me. I shake my head. “It won’t,” I say. “You’re totally right. I should know better. I do know better.”

The light changes and Grove drives on, around the traffic circle to our street. “That place was weird,” he mumbles.

“You thought so, too?” I ask. “I think Clay and Dawn are kind of creepy.”

“They’re a little strange,” he says.

“You guys are so lame,” says Briar. “You wouldn’t know fun if it bit you in the ass.”

“If that’s what you call fun,” I say, “I wouldn’t want it to bite me.”

“Lame,” Briar says. “So lame.”

But I don’t care. Tonight ended up sucking, and now I’m even more worried about Timber and Bella being in the musical together. He couldn’t take his eyes off her when she was onstage, and then he was doting over her like she was a hurt bunny. It makes me wonder if I’m delusional to think he’d ever toss aside a girl like that for me. What’s worse is I can’t use magic, the one thing that could make Timber choose me over Bella. I’m stuck, like every ordinary erdler girl, and it makes my elfin heart ache. We park the van and I climb out. All I want is to get in my bed and forget about tonight, but then I remember what’s coming tomorrow. I’ll have another chance, because Timber will be at my house for Thanksgiving.

I BARELY SLEPT
last night. All I could think about was Timber coming to my house today. There will be no Chelsea getting in my way when I want to have a conversation with him. No Bella rubbing up against him like a cat on a tree. Sure there will be eighteen other people here, but this will be the first time in a long time that I’ll have Timber mostly to myself.

And it’s freaking me out!

“Zephyr!” Mom calls from the bottom of the stairs. “I need you to come down here and set the table. We have no idea where everyone should sit.”

“I’m coming,” I holler. “As soon as I’m dressed.”

“You’ve been saying that for half an hour,” Mom says. “Hurry it up.”

I sigh, exasperated with myself. I’ve been standing in front of my closet, staring at my clothes for at least forty-five minutes.

Briar comes into our room with one yellow towel wrapped around her body and another twisted on top of her head. “Still here?”

“Help me,” I plead. “He’ll be here in less than an hour.”

“Chill,” she says.

“Easy for you to say.” I look at a skirt, a pair of pants, and a dress. Nothing is right. “You’re not trying to impress anybody.”

“And you’re trying too hard.” She flips the towel off her head so her long blond hair hangs in wet strands down her bare back. “Anyway, who says I’m not trying to impress someone?”

I take out a sweater then shove it back in. “Kenji’s not coming.”

“He’s not?” she asks with a grin as she pulls a lacy pink bra and matching panties out of her top dresser drawer.

“Is he?” I ask. My stomach tightens and my scalp prickles. Before Briar moved to Brooklyn, Kenji made a manga for me. The manga is one of the sweetest presents I’ve ever gotten. I wrapped it in a linen cloth and hid it under my summer tunics in my bottom dresser drawer.

“His parents are Japanese,” Briar says. “They don’t do Thanksgiving.” She stands beside me in her underwear and a light pink, lace-trimmed cami. “So your mom said I could invite him.”

“What’s going on with you and Kenji, anyway?” I ask, and wait. I used to think he had a crush on me, but then when Timber acted all interested, Kenji backed off. And now Timber acts like he’s not interested in me, but Briar likes Kenji. Sometimes it’s enough to make my head pop.

Briar slumps against the closet door. “I don’t know. We’re friends, I guess.”

“Do you want it to be more than that?” My palms get moist and my stomach flutters, which is stupid because what do I care?

Briar sighs. “One minute I think we’re more than friends, then poof!” She tosses her hands up. “The next minute, nothing.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Tell me about it.”

“What’s wrong with boys?” she asks as she reaches in the closet and pulls out a flouncy pink skirt.

“Hey!” I grab for the skirt. “I was going to—”

“No way,” she says, tugging. “You’ve had plenty of time.”

“But it’s my skirt,” I say, yanking.

Her left hand starts to twirl and I immediately counter, holding my forearm up to block whatever mischief she’s going to cast. “Don’t!”

“Give me the skirt, then.”

I hold tight. “What am I going to wear then?”

“That’s not my problem,” Briar says.

“I’ll help you,” my little sister Poppy chimes in from the doorway. I let go of the skirt so Poppy doesn’t see Briar and me acting like silly erdler girls fighting over clothes. “Thanks, Pop,” I say. “But I can figure it out.”

Briar slips into the skirt then pulls on a soft gray bolero sweater.

“You look so cute!” Poppy squeals.

She’s right. Briar does look cute. “Why didn’t I think of that outfit?” I moan.

Poppy reaches inside the closet. “Why don’t you wear this?” She pulls out my dark red tunic with intricate black embroidery around the edges.

“Because,” I tell her as I scoot more hangers across the bar in my closet, “I want to look normal.”

Poppy frowns down at her beige tunic and brown leggings. “I wish Mom and Dad would let me wear normal clothes.”

“You look great,” I tell her. “I love all the pink pansies Grandma embroidered around the collar. And when you go to erdler school, Mom and Dad will let you buy other clothes.”

“She’s right, you know,” Briar says from the bed, where she puts on gray tights.

“See?” I say to Poppy.

“No,” says Briar. “Poppy’s right. You should wear that tunic.”

“So you’ll be the only one dressed in erdler clothes when everyone gets here?” I ask. “Real nice.”

Briar looks to the ceiling and waggles her head. “No, because Timber likes you in tunics, duh.”

“Without leggings,” I say, and Poppy giggles. “Mom would flip.”

“You’re so unimaginative.” Briar digs through our drawers. “Wear tights.” She holds up a pair of lacy black hose. “And black boots.”

My eyes light up. “You’d let me wear your black boots?”

“If ...” She pauses. “You let me wear your pink rhinestone ballerina flats.”

I hold out my hand for the tights. “Deal,” I say.

 

By the time the doorbell rings, I’m dressed and ready to go. I even had time to put name cards around the table so that Timber will be beside me for dinner. The food is cooked and my family appears to be reasonably well adjusted despite the fact that everyone but Briar wears a different colored tunic. There’s only so much one girl can do in a day. Changing my entire family will have to wait for another year.

The first person through the door is Mercedes. She marches in, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. She hands me a bouquet of pine boughs and holly leaves. “My family is whacked!” she growls at me. I look over her shoulder at her mom, dad, and younger twin sisters who seem perfectly harmless.

Briar takes a covered dish from Mercedes’s mother. “That’s yams with marshmallows,” Mrs. Sanchez says. “An old family recipe.”

Mercedes raises one eyebrow at her mother. “Straight off the Jiffy Marshmallow bag.”

“Hush now,” her mother says.

The doorbell rings again as I introduce Mr. and Mrs. Sanchez to my grandmother, who’s doing her best to look less kooky by taking off most of her amulets and armbands today. My stomach flips as I look over my shoulder to see if it’s Timber at the door, but it’s not. Ari stands between his parents with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. “Maneschewitz is such crap wine!”

“You won’t be drinking it, so why do you care?” his mother snaps as they enter.

Ari pushes past her and shoves a bottle of wine into my hands. “Could they be any more annoying?”

The doorbell rings again, and this time a shiver goes down my back as I glance around to see Timber and his mother on our threshold.

“Timber!” Dad hollers. He pulls Timber into a deep hug, which makes me cringe. I’m sure my dad is the only father in the universe who hugs his daughter’s friends every time he sees them. When he lets go of Timber and opens his arms to Timber’s mom, I think I’d like to crack open the bottle of wine and guzzle it, then fall down and pass out. But Timber’s mom graciously accepts my dad’s embrace with a happy laugh.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” she says from somewhere in the folds of Dad’s brown tunic.

“Mom.” Timber leads his mother by the wrist across the entryway. “This is Zephyr. Zephyr, this is my mom, Laura.”

My pulse zings and my cheeks flush. I set the wine aside and walk forward with my hand extended, but instead of shaking my hand, Laura holds open both arms. “Finally I get to meet you!” she says as she hugs me. She’s petite, coming up only to my shoulder. Her hair is sandy brown and curly, pulled off her face in a large tortoiseshell clip. “I’ve heard so much about you and your family.”

Which means he’s been talking about me at home!
Is that good or bad?
I wonder.

Laura steps back and smiles up at me.

“I see where Timber got his dimple,” I say, pointing to the little comma at the edge of her mouth, which is identical to his.

“That and his grace and charm,” Laura says with a laugh.

Then Timber leans toward me. I don’t know what to do with my body. Are we going to hug? Kiss? Shake hands? Do the cha-cha? He puts one hand on my shoulder. I melt like maple sugar over a fire. He passes his lips by my cheek and whispers, “Is it just me, or is my mom insane?”

 

Everyone mingles in the living room where we’ve laid out little bowls of spiced pecans, platters of goat cheese and home-baked crackers, and plates of smoked fish surrounded by dried fruits. I watch carefully as my friends and family chat and sample the food. No one seems to think anything is too odd, and for the first time I take a deep breath because this whole thing might work out okay. Until I look at my grandmother.

Fawna has stationed herself in her favorite armchair in the corner, and as usual, she’s watching everything like a hawk. You have to know what’s going on around you to cast good spells, Fawna always says, which is why she’s making me nervous. Usually, Grandma is as placid as a lake on a still spring day, but now she looks stormy. Her eyebrows push into a V, causing wrinkles on her forehead like cracks in dry dirt. I follow her eyes across the room to see what’s troubling her. My gaze lands on Timber.

Timber’s been to my house a few times, and it was no surprise to me that he had trouble keeping everyone’s name straight and knowing how to fit a word in edgewise as my sibs pestered him. But now he seems perfectly at ease. He squats down with Poppy, Bramble, Persimmon, and Mercedes’s twin sisters surrounding him so he can show them some app on his iPhone. He doesn’t even flinch when a green and yellow parakeet swoops by his head then perches on a curtain rod above him. So I can’t imagine why my grandmother is staring at him like this.

“How’d you do that?” Bramble asks Timber when the phone starts to sing.

“Magic,” Timber says.

Poppy’s mouth falls open. “You, too?” she asks. I rush forward and clamp my hand over her lips.

I laugh. “There’s no such thing as magic, remember?” I keep my hand over Poppy’s mouth even when she tries to wrestle away.

Persimmon’s eyes are wide. “Grandma Fawna is magic.”

Briar rushes over. “Persimmon’s so cute!” She ruffles Percy’s hair. “Always making stuff up.”

“Your grandmother is magic?” asks Timber, indulging my littlest sister. “Really?”

Timber looks to my grandmother and smiles, but Fawna narrows her eyes at him. I’ve only seen her look this fierce a few times, once when a sick wolf came prowling near the glen where my cousins and I were playing. The wolf was probably rabid, and my grandpa Buck disposed of it quickly with one arrow.