Spell Check (3 page)

“What?” I asked.

“You have to be calm and focused to perform magic.”

“Okay. So what’s the problem?”

“Evie, you are the jumpiest person I know.”

“So not true.” I hunkered into the beanbag, rustling invisible beans.

Parvani flung me a look.

Okay, maybe I have become a little edgy since Dad died. I popped another handful of popcorn into my mouth and ground the kernels between my teeth. Dad had no right chasing photos or destiny or whatever in such a dangerous place. Maybe if he had loved Mom and me more—

“We need a serene setting.” Parvani glanced at the piles of old school papers, magazines, and books on my desk. Her gaze darted to my unmade bed, and then swept over the wet sneakers, rank sweatshirts, CDs, and a nest of discarded belts heaped on the floor. “Your room could use a bit of feng shui.” She pulled a Teen People from a pile at the foot of my bed and held it up. It featured Jessica Simpson wearing an I heart Nick tee shirt.

“Okay, that can be recycled. But you’re the one who wants to do magic. Let’s go to your house.” I could just imagine her horror if I drew a chalk circle on her celadon silk carpet.

“My brothers would never leave us alone. It has to be here.”

The Terrors, her younger twin brothers, would be harder to get rid of than my piles of junk. “Okay. I’ll pick up while you figure out what to do.”

Parvani’s smile crinkled her eyes. “You’re the best.” She straightened into a lotus position, her perfect posture reflecting the years of ballet she had taken before a stress fracture forced her to quit. Highlighter fumes fouled the air.

I clattered together a mountain of dusty CDs and slid them into a metal holder. Parvani winced at the scraping noise, so I switched to gathering up clothes. Hopefully, she didn’t notice the underwear from the discount department store nosedive when I threw the heap into the hamper. I shoved the tangle of belts into my white wicker hutch. A wallet-sized photo fell out through one of the cracks on the side. The handwritten caption on the back read: Jordan, Age six, First Grade. I turned it over and stared at his gap-toothed grin.

Behind me, the highlighter screeched across the page. I stashed the picture under the belts, then cleared the floor and the spare bed, tossing most of the stuff in the closet. The phone rang in Mom’s room and the kitchen, its insistent buzz cut short after the second ring.

Parvani was still reading, so I picked up my copy of Kiss and flipped to the article on the Goddess. Look inward and awaken your inner Goddess.

“The editor from The Times is on the phone,” Mom said from the doorway.

I gripped the magazine so tightly it crackled and bent. “Tell her I can’t talk right now.”

“She wants to know if you’re ready to start taking photos again for the school section. There’s a game this weekend at Campo. What should I tell her?”

“Tell her no. I’m not ready.”

Mom ground her teeth. I knew what she wanted to say. I needed to get back on the horse. Or we needed the money, since Dad had never been able to get life insurance. Or I needed to move on, so she could, too.

Well, I can’t.

Parvani kept her head down and scribbled notes on binder paper. Mom sighed and left. I flipped back to the goddess article. Envision what you’d like to experience. Seeing Dad again? Making peace with Jordan? My heart tightened. Taking photos…?

“Don’t you have one of the goths in your English class?” Parvani asked.

I lowered the magazine. An image of a short girl, whose oversized black tee shirts hung on her thin frame, leapt to mind. “You mean Salem?”

Parvani blinked twice.

“It’s what everyone calls her since she crossed out ‘Remember The Alamo’ on Tommy Deitch’s notebook and scrawled ‘Remember Salem’.”

“We need to text her. Where’s your Jefferson phone book?”

Doing spells in the privacy of my own room was one thing, but texting a goth? My voice cracked. “I don’t even know her real name. She’s Sarah something.”

Parvani stood and plucked a bright green booklet from the wreckage on top of my dresser. “We’ll find every Sarah in the ninth grade. You must have heard her last name when Mrs. Knapp called roll. We just need to jog your memory.”

“I’d rather jog in a hurricane without my sweatshirt. Didn’t you hear? In the fifth grade, Salem put a hex on Britney Bauer, and Brit broke out in hives the next day.”

Parvani lowered the directory. “Total coincidence.”

“No it wasn’t. Even the Smash Heads are afraid of her. Why do we need to text her?”

“We need lots of props to cast a spell, and I don’t know where to buy them.”

Sheesh. Judging from the pentacles and other exotic stuff Salem wore, she would be the best person to ask.

Parvani skipped through the pages of the school directory. “Sara Douglas?”

I shook my head.

“Sarah Grimes?”

“No.”

“Johansen? Mackenzie? Miller?”

I drew in a quick breath. A shiver shimmied down my spine.

Parvani’s stare bored into me. “Miller? She lives on Lucas. Is she just down the street?”

I felt as though the warden had given me truth serum. Against my will, my head bobbed up and down.

“Let’s go see if we can spot her,” Parvani suggested in her most reasonable, don’t-worry-this-won’t-hurt-a-bit voice.

I glanced out the window. “Are you insane? It’s raining.”

“Then text her.”

I began to reconsider Parvani as my best friend.

“Come on,” she pleaded. “Baby would love to go for a walk.”

Upon hearing the W-word, Baby bounded across the room, stopped at the threshold, and glanced back at us with an excited expression. Now I had to go. “All right. But it will be dark soon, so we’d better hurry.”

Wild-eyed, Parvani grabbed her umbrella and gray sweatshirt. “Where is your leash, Baby?” The L-word sent Baby racing toward the front door. Parvani sprinted after her.

“If we don’t see Salem on the street, we turn back,” I insisted.

Parvani already stood outside, her umbrella up, the amazing patchwork scarf she had designed herself wrapped around her neck. She did a grand jeté over the primroses while Baby, a quick shadow behind her, zigzagged after a scent.

Mom met me at the door. “Where are you going?”

“Parvani said the W-word in front of Baby. So we’re going to walk around the block, maybe go as far as Lucas.” You know, pay the neighborhood goth a little visit.

The wind stirred Mom’s auburn hair. “Okay. Just be back before dark.”

“No problem.”

Baby barked at me from the end of the drive. I lifted her leash from the wooden peg. Then, before my better sense could stop me, I walked out the door, cold rain stinging my face.

I could almost feel the hex hives erupting.

Chapter Four

Baby, happy and stinking of wet dog, pulled me eastward toward Lucas Drive. Parvani bumped alongside me in a valiant effort to hold the wind-battered umbrella over our heads.

“No way will Salem be out in this.”

“She’s a goth,” Parvani replied. “She probably thrives in miserable weather. You know, the sky is filled with angst…”

Yeah, right. A rain-heavy willow grabbed at the umbrella as we rounded the corner. Plaid nylon dipped in front of my face, blocking my view of the street. A foot in front of me, Baby stopped and tensed. Please don’t let it be Salem.

An unholy yapping broke the silence, followed by a somewhat familiar voice yelling, “Einstein, shut up!”

Parvani tilted back the umbrella, affording me a clear view of a tiny, black-clad, windswept figure. Salem. I’d know those scary kohl-lined eyes and short black-and-purple hair anywhere. My heart sank to my Perfectly Plum toenails.

“Hey!” Parvani waved and shouted up the street.

Salem’s cockapoo yapped louder, a feat I would have thought impossible, and strained to break free of its leash. Salem squinted at us like a bounty hunter in a futuristic movie. The question “Friend or foe?” was etched on her pale face, which, I noticed for the first time, looked kind of delicate and pretty beneath all the goth makeup and the I-can-kill-you-with-a-curse attitude.

“I see you got dog duty, too,” I called.

“Yeah.” Salem sounded resigned. “It’s my sister’s dog. She left him behind when she went off to college.” The rain matted Salem’s razor-cut hair to her skull. “Einstein, be quiet!” The repulsive beast sat at Salem’s feet and growled.

Parvani nudged me in the ribs.

“This is Parvani Hyde-Smith,” I told Salem. “I don’t think you two have any classes together.”

Salem shook her head. “Sarah Miller.”

“I’ve seen you around.” Parvani stepped forward, forcing me to follow or get soaked. “I noticed you wear a lot of unusual jewelry,” she gushed in the tone she uses when she’s trying to talk her dad out of money, or get a sales clerk to call another store for her. “Where do you shop?”

Salem squinted again, sizing up Parvani, probably searching for a hidden insult. Or worse, maybe she was concocting a hex. It didn’t take a shrink to see she had major trust issues.

Parvani’s tact was failing, big time, so I tried. “Parvani is interested in crystals, and…” I searched my mind. What else had the book mentioned? Wands? Brooms?

“My cousin is into New Age stuff, and I want to send her a birthday present,” Parvani added.

Einstein jumped up and barked, the little lie detector. Salem stared at Parvani so long, Parvani’s hand on the umbrella started to quiver. Maybe it was just from the cold.

Salem shifted her gaze to me. “Try Sage Mage on North Broadway. It’s across from the skate park where all the loser jocks hang out.”

Parvani’s mouth tightened, and I knew she was thinking the same thing as me. Jordan practices there.

Black eyeliner ran down Salem’s rain-slick cheeks, giving her a vampirish look. She tugged on Einstein’s leash. “I better get him inside.”

“Sure. Thanks.” I met Baby’s gaze. “Let’s go.”

A small gale pushed us homeward. Baby splashed through the gutter, oblivious. We were almost home when Parvani said, “Your friend helped us a lot.”

“Salem’s not my friend. I hardly know her.”

“Anyway,” Parvani continued, “tomorrow I get a break from BMCR.”

“BMCR?”

“Building my college résumé. My service project has been postponed because of the rain, and I don’t have piano until one o’clock. So I’ll ask my mother to take us to Sage Mage.”

“All I have is two dollars.”

Parvani puffed. “We’re talking about my mother.”

“Right.” One thing I know about Mrs. Hyde-Smith—she’s never flinched at a price tag.

“Let’s make a list of everything we’ll need.” Parvani wore her project face.

“Wouldn’t it just be easier for you to talk to Jordan?”

Parvani threw me a withering look.

“Or not.” Maybe I could watch a Shay Stewart movie while Parvani did her research.

****

The next morning, after a breakfast of granola and orange juice, Parvani and I were waiting in the entry when bad news arrived in a shiny new Lexus. Her father, Dr. Hyde-Smith, sat behind the wheel, and the Twin Terrors were in the back seat.

“Oh no,” Parvani moaned. “Mom must have gone to the spa.”

Mrs. Hyde-Smith was what Nana would call a high maintenance woman. Parvani liked to compare her mother to Buddha—when he lived lavishly in a palace and had yet to gain enlightenment.

The cracked entry tile crunched behind us. “Is there a problem?”

I jumped. “Mom, quit sneaking up on us!”

Parvani thumped her forehead against one of the narrow vertical windows flanking the front door. “Dad’s driving. Now we’ll never get to go to Sage Mage.”

Dr. Hyde-Smith stomped out of the car. Water from yesterday’s rain still beaded the car’s waxed hood. Being a dermatologist in a town filled with teens paid well.

The twins started slugging each other.

“I’ll take you,” Mom offered.

Parvani hugged her. “Oh, thank you, Ms. O’Reilly.”

“Let’s check with your dad.” Mom opened the door before Dr. Hyde-Smith could ring the bell.

Parvani launched herself at her father. “Dad! I just remembered I have to buy some stuff for Social Science. It’s due on Monday.”

I rolled my eyes. Right. Social Science.

Muffled shouts sounded from the back of the Lexus. Dr. Hyde-Smith scowled at the twins. “Not now, Parvani. I have to take your brothers to get their hair cut. Maybe later.”

“I have piano later.”

“I can take the girls,” Mom said. “When would you like Parvani home?”

Parvani’s dad tapped his fingers against his thighs. “I may be a while with the twins…”

“Why don’t I keep Parvani for an hour or so and then drop her off by noon?”

“Please, Dad. This is my only morning off.”

“All right,” Dr. Hyde-Smith relented, pulling out his wallet. “Here, you’ll need some money.” He peeled off two twenties and handed them to Parvani.

“Thanks, Dad!” She gave him a kiss and snatched the bills from his hand.

Mom and I exchanged a look. I would have to clean out the dishwasher, make my bed, and help make dinner for two months to earn forty dollars.

“See you later.” Dr. Hyde-Smith squared his shoulders, exhaled, and then headed for the car.

Mom closed the door behind him. “Does this have something to do with the book you two bought?”

My cheeks heated, but I nodded.

“I thought it was for History.”

“World History,” Parvani clarified. “It’s listed under Social Science.”

Mom gave her a hard look. “Okay. Get your sweaters while I find my purse.”

Oh, goodie, a field trip.

“I’ll grab the list,” Parvani said.

I followed her into my room and retrieved my sweatshirt from the floor. Beneath it, Shay Stewart smirked at me from the cover of Kiss. My gaze darted to the hot pink teaser, “Channel Your Inner Goddess!” Well, Goddess, Parvani has her hopes up. Now what?

An odd tingle tiptoed down my arms and I could have sworn I heard the tinkle of tiny pewter bells.

Chapter Five

I pushed open the glass door to Sage Mage and the cloying smell of incense assaulted me. I wondered how long I could hold my breath and stave off an allergy attack.