Spell Check (18 page)

“What happened?” Mom asked.

I fumbled with my seatbelt. “Food poisoning. He’ll live.” I stared straight ahead.

Mom hesitated, then switched on the ignition. We passed wine-colored plum trees and birches with their snowy trunks. No willows. I was done with willows, and wands, and trolls, and Buddhas, and best friends.

And boys. I was definitely done with boys.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Thursday morning, Mrs. Hyde-Smith called with some lame excuse to suspend carpooling. Fine by me. I had concluded Jordan was the major victim here, and I did not want to be in the same school with Parvani, much less share a car. Besides, the quiet drive gave me time to think about Dad and the looming anniversary of his death.

Mom seemed preoccupied. I got the feeling she didn’t want to be home alone. Guess the extra trips to school were what Nana would call a blessing in disguise.

Friday dawned cool, clear, and sparkling after a night’s rain. Wayward gulls called to each other overhead as I crossed the soggy field.

“Evie! Wait up.”

My stomach flip-flopped at the sound of Jordan’s voice. “Hey,” I said when he fell into step beside me. “You’re back.”

The quick sprint had winded him. “Hey,” he gasped.

His vampire-like pallor worried me. “Shouldn’t you be home? You don’t look too well.”

“I wanted to be here. Where’s Parvani?”

I wanted to slug him, but then I remembered it was the spell talking, not him. Besides, in his condition, even one of my swats might knock him flat.

“Haven’t seen her.” I tried to sound neutral, but snarkiness laced my voice. “We’re not carpooling anymore.”

“Wretched. Okay. See you in Gym.” He squelched off.

Heat flamed from my throat to my strawberry hairline. I wondered if I could talk Mom into driving me to Well-Read Books. Karma be damned. I needed a counter spell.

****

By third period, the sun ruled the sky. Coach Willis blew his plastic whistle and yelled, “Mile time, people. Get running. Evie, Evan, hit the bleachers. No blood this time.”

I felt like a rock in the middle of a river as my classmates streamed around me, headed for the outer edge of the field. Before I could gloat over Parvani having to run, I spotted her swing of long black hair. She jogged beside Jordan. My gloat soured into something ulcerous. Lacking options, I headed for the aluminum bleachers. Evan clumped ahead at a laborious limp, his right foot encased in a black walking cast. A twinge of guilt slowed my step.

Rainwater had pooled between the ridges of the aluminum, leaving just a three-foot dry patch under a redwood tree. Evan got there first. His face contorted as he shifted sideways and stretched his injured leg onto the bench.

Which left no room for me.

As I approached, Evan started to move his leg.

“No, no,” I said, shocked by his unexpected gesture. I grabbed his leg to keep it from sliding off the bench. “Stay. I can stand.”

“You have a concussion. You shouldn’t stand all period.”

“But you’re in pain.”

Evan shrugged. His red hair, clean for once, fell across his blue-gray eyes.

“We’ll compromise. I’ll sit, and you put your leg across my lap.”

His eyes lit up, igniting a moment of panic. Had I gone insane? Maybe my head injury was worse than I thought. I couldn’t take back the words, so I lifted Evan’s cast-encased foot and sat down. “This thing weighs a ton,” I said after he lowered the cast onto my lap.

“Tell me about it.”

“I’m sorry…” We spoke at the same time and stared at each other in surprise.

“I didn’t mean to break your foot.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with Tommy mowing you down.”

I tried to remember if I had ever seen Evan without Tommy. The class thundered past. A couple of guys hooted. Someone yelled, “Way to go, MacDonald.”

Then the stragglers jogged past. Shock played across Parvani’s face. Jordan slowed to a near stop and stared. My heart sank when I registered his confused expression.

“You call yourself a running back, Kent? Even the girls are passing you,” Evan chided.

Jordan flashed me a hurt look. My heart tore. I glared at Parvani. She lowered her chin and averted her gaze, but not before I spied the remorse in her eyes. She knew she had screwed up big time, but didn’t know how to fix things.

Kind of how I’d felt when Dad died.

I glanced back at Jordan. His lake-blue eyes bored into me. I gulped a couple of times, my thoughts skittering. Someone bumped Jordan from behind. He stumbled forward, cast me a final, forlorn look, and then jogged on, leaving me alone with Evan, Smash Head.

Chapter Thirty

The next eight days passed in a miserable blur.

“You have to do something.” Zhù shouldered past me like a chocolate-seeking missile and headed right for the kitchen.

“And buenas tardes to you.”

“Buenas tardes. Got a bowl?”

“What size?”

Zhù dumped his backpack on a chair and started to unzip it. “Cereal size will work.”

I dragged a chipped bowl out of the cabinet and placed it on the table.

“Gracias.” Zhù pulled out a baggie and poured a bunch of edamame into the bowl.

I stared at the little green spheres. “You don’t like brownies anymore?”

Zhù tossed a bunch of soybeans into his mouth. “Love them. But I’m starving. Thought I’d start with these. Besides, soybeans help me think.”

I brought over a plate of brownies and two glasses of water.

“Parvani won’t talk to me,” Zhù said.

“She’s not speaking to me, either.”

“She’s been avoiding me ever since she saw me at your house. I still don’t know what she meant by her comment.”

“What comment?”

“She said, ‘I expected more from you.’”

Guys. So clueless. I pulled out a chair and sat. “Parvani probably thought you’d always be there for her. You know, her loyal sidekick. Maybe she didn’t realize how much you meant to her until she saw us together and she thought she’d lost you.”

“That’s crazy.”

“No it’s not.”

Zhù sat down and popped five more beans into his mouth. After he swallowed, he said, “But she acted all crazy about Jordan. She even asked him to the dance.”

The stones piled up on my heart again. “Because she was mad at us.” And crazy. “I told you to tell her the truth about your dancing.”

“You know why I can’t.”

Risking a beating by the Smash Heads was a problem. Then again, so was directing a love spell at someone against his will. “Parvani needs your help,” he continued. “Have you seen her? She looks worse than Jordan. Yesterday, she wore a belt that clashed with her shoes.”

“Are you sure you’re not gay?”

Zhù threw a bean at my forehead.

I plucked a couple of beans from the bowl and contemplated starting a food fight, but this was too serious. “I can’t help her.”

“Why not? She’s your friend. Jordan is your friend. You have to do something. The dance is in six days.”

Frost tinged my voice. “I’m well aware of how many days are left until Halloween.”

Zhù paused mid-chew. I could see him flipping through his mental file marked Evie. He swallowed hard. “Your dad. I’m an idiot. How is your mom holding up?”

“She’s on the phone all the time with Dad’s agent.” Anguish, raw as an untreated sore, welled within me. “Several of Dad’s photos will be featured in a new anthology about the war.”

“Hey, great.”

I nodded, unable to speak.

Zhù fished his Spanish book out of his backpack and opened it.

“Hallie volunteered to photograph the dance,” I said, changing the subject.

“Good. Then neither of us will have to go. Maybe I’ll take Ming trick-or-treating.”

“Cool. Dress as a ballet dancer and stop by Parvani’s house first.”

Zhù threw a couple more soybeans at me. This time I retaliated and bounced one off his glasses. It fell on the floor and Baby snapped it up.

After Zhù left, I sat on the floor and plowed my fingers through Baby’s hair. “The sky will be dark tonight,” I whispered. “It’s the new moon. A ripe time for casting a counter spell.”

Chapter Thirty-One

I figured it would take a pretty heavy-duty spell to counter the one Parvani had cast. I didn’t want to wing it and risk possible karmic repercussions, or accidentally summon a demon or something.

The library was closed. None of the bookstores were within walking distance, and Mom was too busy working on her next batch of cards to drive me. I thought of searching online for info on spell busting, but Mom kept working at the kitchen table. Probably she didn’t want to be alone, especially not in the studio. Not this week.

I needed to call an expert, which pretty much meant Miss Ravenwood, or Nana. I snuck off to my room and dialed Nana’s number. She answered on the third ring.

“Hi Nana. It’s Evie.”

“Hello, Precious. What a pleasant surprise. How are you?”

“Not so great, Nana. I need your help.” I decided to just dive in. “Do you know how to counter a bad love spell?”

The line went silent.

“Nana, you there?”

“Yes, sorry. Just trying to recover.”

“Mom told me you dabbled in the Craft. Can you help me?”

“How like Olivia. ‘Dabbled .’” Nana snorted. “Sounds so frivolous. Who cast the spell?”

“A friend of mine.”

“Then your friend has to be the one to undo it. Did this friend bind someone against their will?”

I thought of Jordan. “Yes.”

“Bad karma, kiddo.”

“I know. I tried to warn her.”

“She must be a new soul. Too bad about the boy, though.”

“There has to be something I can do.”

“Hmm. All I can think of is severing the spell link.”

“Spell link?”

“It’s a thin magical cord, like a vapor trail, left by the spell. It connects your friend to the boy. Severing it with a black-handled knife might set both of them free. But that’s pretty advanced magic, being able to see a spell link.”

“I haven’t noticed it so far. Besides, I’ll get expelled if I run around school with a knife, black-handled or otherwise.”

“I’m sorry, Precious. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Thanks anyway, Nana. If you think of anything else, call me, okay?”

“Promise. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” I hung up and put on Dad’s cap. I could use some luck, or a miracle.

The rest of the weekend dragged. My Worry Meter hovered between Meltdown and Calm-Down-Or-You’ll-Die. I wondered what effect Parvani’s casting had had on
Teen Wytche?
Had the book shrunk? Grown horns? Did it pulse like a broken heart?

At school, I watched Jordan and Parvani, searching for the spell link. If it was there, I sure couldn’t see it. As the days passed, the spell’s repercussions became more evident. Jordan and I resorted to doing our lab work during lunch, since the spell seemed to prevent him from coming to my house. First, he’d injured his leg during football play-offs, so he couldn’t skateboard over. Then his mom had had a series of committee meetings for a fall fundraiser, so he’d had to stay home and watch his grandfather. So we worked in Mr. Ross’s room while Parvani sat nearby, pretending to study Honors Geometry.

No sign of the spell link.

Dejected, I took down my Shay Stewart shrine and stuffed the pictures into a file folder marked
Faces
. Baby snored on the rag rug while I hung up the laundry piled on my floor. Anything that had lain there for more than two weeks I tossed in the washer. Parvani would have been pleased.

Halloween and the anniversary of Dad’s death loomed. I missed having a best friend to talk to. If only Parvani would undo the spell—I missed her and Jordan. Nothing seemed right. Salem hadn’t called or come home, either.

I cleared off my desk and dusted it. Then I dug through boxes of old photos until I found the shot of Jordan and me at Disneyland with Excalibur. I put it in a silver frame next to a picture of Mom and Dad.

Nana called. Mom lied and told her we were fine. “Any luck?” Nana asked when I got on the phone.

“None”

“Sorry, kiddo.”

“Me, too, Nana.”

On Halloween Eve, the doorbell rang. My heart leapt. Jordan? Parvani? Salem? I raced behind Baby, but Mom got to the door first.

“Hi, I’m Lilith, Sarah Miller’s cousin.” She appeared about nineteen. Someone had buzz-cut the left side of her head. The hair on her right side grazed her jaw. “I’m in cosmetology school,” she explained. “Sarah said Evie wanted back her natural hair color. It won’t cost you anything. I need the practice hours to graduate.”

Mom gaped.

Lilith held out a bulging tote bag. “I brought all my stuff. Are you free? I should have called, but I lost your phone number. All I could remember was the address.”

“Well, um.” Mom raised her eyebrows at me.

I clasped Mom’s hand and held it to my heart. For added measure, I blinked several times and did my best wounded-puppy impression. “Please? If she does it right, I’ll look like my old self again.” I’ll look more like Dad.

Doubt and hope warred in Mom’s eyes. Would Lilith fry my hair? Turn it magenta? My strawberry roots were two inches long—things couldn’t get much worse. I took off Dad’s cap and pointed to my outgrowth. “Can you get me back to this color?”

Lilith poked her tongue against the inside of her cheek. I got a brief glance at her silver tongue stud. “Sure thing. The results will be pure magic.”

Mom sighed. “Okay. Come in.”

****

When I woke the next morning, my mind was on Jordan and Teen Wytche. So when I entered the bathroom and confronted my reflection in the mirror, my heart jolted. Dad’s blue eyes stared back at me, framed by his strawberry blonde hair.
No wonder Mom teared up last night when Lilith was finished.
I blew out a long breath. This was going to take some getting used to, especially today.

Halloween.

“The art crowd and goths dress up and hold sort of an anti-dance in the quad at lunch,” I told Mom over breakfast. “I have to cover it for Yearbook.”