Spell Check (19 page)

“You’re going to take pictures?”

“If I don’t freak again. Wish me luck.”

She kissed my forehead like I was a little kid or something. Her lips were soft and reassuring, and her mom smell engulfed me. “Good luck, sweetie. I know you’ll do fine.”

“How about you?” I asked. “Because Hallie can cover the ghouls if…”

“No need for you to worry. Baby will keep me company. Now get dressed. We’re falling behind schedule.”

I got moving. I figured it was Halloween, the best possible time to detect a spell trail.

At Jefferson, unlike middle school, students didn’t have to wait until last period to don their costumes. We were, however, forbidden to wear fake or actual weapons. So, of course, no black-handled knives. Middle school had the same rule. It had always posed a problem for the Smash Heads.

In English, a quiet and unassuming girl who sat to my right showed up in a black-and-red corseted goth fairy costume. I had never seen her in anything other than a sweatshirt and jeans. Who knew she had cleavage? I kept wondering if she was freezing in her miniskirt and black spider web tights. Even Mrs. Knapp seemed to find her distracting, and kept losing her train of thought mid-sentence. Having everyone hyped up on purloined candy and anticipation didn’t help.

In Gym, failure to wear a Wildcats gym shirt, even on Halloween, could result in a grade drop. So there we stood, thirty-seven freshmen packed into the multipurpose room. A guy smeared with fake blood, wearing vampire teeth, and a green mesh gym shirt hurled a dodge ball at me.

Psycho.

Jordan and Parvani entered my peripheral vision. It may have been my imagination but, when I squinted and blocked the glare of the gym lights, I thought I saw a pale blue cord connecting Parvani’s heart to Jordan’s back.
The spell link!
Was it some sort of Halloween trick? Had the concoction Lilith had smeared on my hair given me super powers?

It didn’t matter. I needed to sever the link.

Jordan’s athletic grace and his warm, inclusive smile were gone. His lake-blue eyes had dulled to a stormy gray. He seemed lost, as if he couldn’t remember how to play the game—or any game.

Parvani’s perfect posture had abandoned her. Shoulders hunched, she shrank. She had twisted her thick black hair into a haphazard bun held together by two yellow pencils. In place of her designer frames, she wore her rimless glasses from seventh grade. Karma had kicked her in the teeth. Watching her and Jordan, my stomach burned. There had to be a way to cut the spell link without using a lethal weapon.

The answer didn’t appear to me, not even in Spanish where I tend to be brilliant. When the lunch bell sounded, I raced to Yearbook to retrieve a camera from Miss Roberts. By the time I walked back down the ramp,
Thriller
blared from speakers in the quad. I followed the driving beat, encountering the pixie from Parvani’s French class.

“Amazing Corpse Bride costume!” I said, snapping her picture.

She made her eyes huge. “Tim Burton rules.”

In each picture I took, at least one of the obnoxious orange posters for the Halloween dance appeared in the background. I fought the urge to tear them down. In the future, I think the social committee should channel th
eir revolting energy and enthusiasm toward a better cause. I vote for world peace.

Distracted, I didn’t notice the sudden drop in temperature or the stench of evil until I almost crashed into Miss Ravenwood. She’d painted her face green and wore a tall witch’s hat. For a heart-stopping minute, her gaze roved over my newly restored hair color. Her stern expression crumpled.

“You look like Deaman.”

“I know.”

Miss Ravenwood swallowed. Her lips curled inward, almost disappearing. Regret and grief welled in her eyes. I realized then what my father must have meant to her. My heart constricted.

The brimstone smell faded. “Miss Hyde-Smith and Mr. Kent are flunking Honors Geometry,” Miss Ravenwood said in a shaky voice.

“They are?” I imagined she’d broken some major privacy rule by telling me.

She leaned closer, giving me a good view of the fake wart on her nose. “They need your help.”

“I’m in remedial math.”

“A different kind of help, Miss O’Reilly.” Her gaze pierced me like a pin through a butterfly. The flecks in her watery blue eyes darkened. In that moment, I knew. Miss Ravenwood had once cast a binding love spell and had suffered similar results. I had the uneasy feeling my father had been the recipient.

I wondered if Mom knew.

“Karma,” Miss Ravenwood said, her brow arching. She swept off in a rustle of long skirts.

“Yours, or theirs?” I called after her.

She angled her head, displaying a razor-edged profile. “Yes.”

I wanted to stomp my feet in frustration. At the last minute, I whipped the camera to my eye and shot Miss Ravenwood’s striped stockings and ruby heels before she disappeared.

I followed the pounding Michael Jackson beat to the pale standing stones and sticky benches ringing the quad. A black-winged fairy of the night danced with a freshman version of Garth from
Wayne’s World.
A blonde senior dressed in a body-hugging designer dress and four-hundred-dollar stilettos I had seen in a department store window wore a Trophy Wife sign beneath her diamond necklace. She danced with Nazario, dressed as himself. Knowing Mia would be hurt, I didn’t take their picture. Instead, I shot an overenthusiastic Raggedy Ann as she jumped on the back of a boy with vampire fangs, dressed as a surgeon.

My heart plummeted like a falling star when Jordan lurched by, dressed as a zombie. Parvani walked a few paces behind him, bedecked in a feather headdress. From the hip up, she was encased in a gilded cage. It was her most spectacular design yet. Awed, I ran ahead to photograph her. I had to twist past a goth eating a burrito in order to angle the photo so the spell vapor wouldn’t be visible. I should have taken Jordan’s picture as well, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

Thriller ended with zombie groans, a falsetto scream, and an evil laugh. After a pause, Beethoven’s Fifth blared from the speakers.
Not your typical dance music…
I lowered my camera. After some confused swearing from the goths, the focus shifted to a lithe form on the side of the quad. Parvani had rotated around to catch the spectacle. She gasped at the same time I did.

Zhù had skipped his Nutcracker rehearsal. His cut-at-the-midriff muscle tee revealed his sculpted biceps, and abs rivaling those of the cover models on Mom’s romance novels. The hem of his charcoal sweatpants ended at the ankle, revealing black ballet slippers.

The Smash Heads, Tommy in the lead, shouldered their way into the crowd. My stomach clenched. I had wanted Zhù to tell Parvani about his dancing, not to sign his own death warrant.

Tommy, whose vague attempt at costuming consisted only of zipper scars across his cheeks and hands, grabbed a freshman’s butterfly wings and flapped them as she shrieked. Evan ignored him and scanned the crowd. His glance flicked from me to Zhù. I willed Evan to look back at me. He did, and we held each other’s gazes.

P
lease,
I silently pleaded.

The music stopped, plunging the quad into sudden silence. Evan had dressed like Shay Stewart’s famous pirate role. He looked good. I held my breath and waited.

“Yo ho, yo ho,” Evan sang. Some of the crowd joined in, proving there must have been a lot of the drama club and chorus kids among the sullen goths.

Tommy’s eyes lit like a hyena spotting a zebra with a limp.

Evan tried to dance a little pirate jig which, given his cast, was either Herculean or foolhardy. I didn’t care. It took everyone’s attention off Zhù.

Except Parvani’s. She tried to make her way to Zhù. I know she tried. But the spell kept her tethered to Jordan, and he had slumped onto a bench.

Looking dejected, Zhù slipped away. As I watched him go, I wondered how much worse things would have to get before Parvani would reverse the spell.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Mom gunned the Volvo up our street. “So, just you and me tonight?”

I hugged her arm, grateful she’d remained the same, no matter how much havoc the love spell caused with everyone else. “You, me, Baby, and who knows how many superheroes, firemen and princesses. Can we order pizza?”

“Again? Sure. Let’s eat early. Just like the old days.” Her smile faded and I knew she was thinking about Dad. He hovered between us, a ghost, stirring old memories and ripping open fresh guilt. Mom and I had just sat down to a thick crust, double cheese pizza when the doorbell rang. “It’s too early for trick-or-treaters,” we said at the same time.

Mom wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I’ll get it.” She grabbed the bowl of candy and headed with Baby toward the entry.

I didn’t hear the usual Halloween yells, just quiet conversation and footsteps heading my way. A familiar goth appeared, sans makeup and dressed in jeans and a subdued knit top.

“You’re back!” I hugged Sarah, which surprised me as much as it did her.

“Sit,” Mom commanded.

Sarah pulled out a chair. Baby sat on the floor.

“Did they feed you on the plane?”

Sarah snorted. “No, though we were free to purchase boxed gag-me lunches.”

Mom reached for the cupboard. “I’ll grab another plate.”

“I like your hair,” Sarah said.

“Lilith did it. And look at yours. It’s so long.”

“I should call Lilith. Maybe change my image. Everyone looks so goth these days.”

“It’s called Halloween,” I informed her.

Sarah swatted me with Mom’s greasy napkin.

“Can you stay for awhile?” I asked.

“Okay with you, Mrs. O’Reilly?” Sarah asked.

“Of course. Spend the night if you’d like. We could use the company.”

I squeezed Mom’s hand. I knew she had expected to have a quiet, sad Halloween, just the two of us.

Sarah and I were too excited to polish off the pizza, so Mom said, “I’ll listen for trick-or-treaters if you two want to go to Evie’s room and catch up.”

“Are you sure?”

Mom waved her hand. “Go. I’ll finish my novel. I’m at the good part.”

We took off while she boxed up the pizza and put it in the refrigerator. As soon as the bedroom door closed behind us, Sarah dove onto the bed. “Okay, O’Reilly. Spill everything.”

I plopped into the beanbag chair and regurgitated all the depressing details.

“You saw the spell link?” Sarah said when I finished.

I nodded. “Too bad I couldn’t do anything about it. Which means it’s still up to Parvani to fix this, which she won’t, since she’s at the dance with Jordan.”

“I don’t get it. It sounds like neither of them is happy. Why doesn’t she do something?”

“She might be too rattled to try anything else,” I said. “Especially if Teen Wytche doesn’t list a counter spell.”

The doorbell rang. Baby barked in the kitchen.

“I better get Baby and lock her up in here with us. Mom will have her hands full with the candy.”

“Good idea. May I use your restroom?”

“Go for it.”

I rounded the corner near the entry and saw Mom kneeling before the open door. The tricksters must be little kids. They always came out first.

Baby stood beside Mom, tail wagging, poking her nose into the candy bowl.

“Bye!” Mom stood and waved.

I stepped on the cracked tile, wincing as it crunched beneath my feet. Mom pivoted, one hand on the door, the other holding the orange candy bowl. “Evie. Someone is here to see you.”

She stepped back and headed for the kitchen.

Curious, I peeked around the door. “Parvani?”

She adjusted her glasses. “May I come in?”

“Sure. Where is your costume? I thought you were going to the dance.” With Jo
rdan.

“I decided not to go. Is Salem back yet?”

“Yeah. She stopped by a little while ago and stayed for dinner. Why?”

“I need your help—both of you.”

My hopes skyrocketed. I angled my head toward my room. “Come on.” I let her lead, so I could sneak a quick look outside before I closed the door. Darn. No Jordan. He couldn’t be too far away, not with the spell link.

We met Sarah in the hall as she came out of the bathroom. “Parvani. You look like something Einstein threw up.”

“Gee, thanks, Sarah.”

I gave her a meaningful look. “Parvani wants our help with something.”

Sarah raised a studded brow. We filed back into my room and closed the door. Parvani knelt on the rag rug and slid her backpack off her shoulder.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“This.” Parvani pulled out T
een Wytche
. It had shrunken and shriveled. The silver foliage on the cover now resembled dry, dead leaves. The plum leather had cracked, and the edges weren’t leather at all.

“It’s reverting back,” I said.

“Oh no!” Sarah took the tome from Parvani and caressed the cover. She bit her lip as she opened it, then drew in a sharp breath when she saw the pages. Little remained of the handwritten spidery scrawl on vellum. Most of the pages had begun to change back to machine-printed text on paper. “Dear Goddess.”

“It coughed filthy cobwebs all over my twelve-hundred dollar handbag, and tried to set fire to my favorite flats.” Parvani sobbed. “I’m so sorry, Evie. I saw how much Jordan liked you, and then I thought you’d stolen Zhù…I don’t know. I wrecked everything. Now Jordan’s miserable, and I’m miserable, and you’re not speaking to me, and I’ve been too ashamed to talk to Zhù. My grades are suffering and Dad’s upset because I’ve blown the BMCR…”

“What’s a BMCR?” Sarah asked. She waved her hand. “Never mind. I don’t care.”

“Building my college résumé,” I explained anyway.

Parvani sniffed. “I don’t know how to undo this mess.”

“What if Parvani revokes the spell,” I asked Sarah, “then casts a new one, where she asks for the qualities she wants in her true love? Will that fix things?”

Sarah hugged Teen Wytche to her chest. “It might, if we word it right.”

Parvani sniffed. “Do you think so?”

I handed her a tissue. “Breathe. You need to be calm for spell casting, remember?”