Spell Check (9 page)

Chapter Fourteen

The doorbell, which Nana had installed during one of her wry moments, sent the opening bars of the “Mission Impossible” theme thundering through the house. Baby lumbered to her feet, barking, and bounded down the hall.

“Mom! Can you get it?” I unwrapped the bath towel from around my wet hair and listened. No screeching stove fan. No simmering garlic-and-shallot smell wafting down the hall. Mom must still be in her studio.

The bell rang again. It had to be Salem. Parvani would have called.

The barking stopped, and I heard Baby skid across the entry tile. I threw the damp towel on the rag rug, just outside the magic circle. I pulled on my plaid flannel pants in a rush, facing them inside out so the huge Cal logo wouldn’t draw too much attention to my butt. Water dripped down my back, chilling my bare flesh. I whipped the pentacle necklace over my head, then hurried into a pink satin bra and a cleanish yellow hoodie. I stashed the candle inside my jewelry box, then, having no idea where I’d left my shoes, slid on some frayed slippers and headed down the hall.

As I rounded the corner, I noticed a figure pressed against one of the narrow windows flanking the door. Jordan! Heat rushed up my throat. Every cell screamed run, but he had already seen me and waved.

I opened the door, my breath rattling like tumbleweeds inside my chest. “Jordan.”

“Hey, Evie.” He gave me a once over. “I like the wet hair look. Nice slippers. Though I kinda preferred your pink bunnies.”

My brain felt microwaved. “The ones I wore when we were six?”

Light danced in Jordan’s eyes. “Yeah.” He bent and petted Baby. “Did you eat the bunnies, girl?”

Baby wagged her tail.

“So, can I come in?”

The kitchen door slammed. Mom must have come down to make dinner.

“Um, sure.”

Jordan stepped inside and hesitated, raking his fingers through his highlights. When we were younger, he would have run down the hall to my room. Mortification crept over me as I thought of Jordan seeing my Shay Stewart shrine, the magic circle, and my unmade bed. I gestured toward the living room.

This part of the house is so not Mom’s or my style. Dad’s parents had given us the black leather sofa and chair three years ago, right before they’d moved to Bangkok. Mom had tried to soften the starkness by adding a scuffed wooden coffee table and white tea light candles. I guess it helped a little. Enlarged prints of Dad’s photos adorned the wine-colored wall behind the sofa. Dad had clustered my photo series on homeless people and their pets on the end wall, above the chair.

Jordan plopped down on the white shag carpet, leaned against the couch, and unfolded his legs beneath the low table. He jiggled his foot, a sure sign he was nervous.

I perched on the chair, plotting my escape, certain he was about to dump me for a lab partner who understood an x/y axis and Hardy-Weinberg. Jordan patted the floor beside him and gave me one of his puppy dog looks. If Parvani had been here, she would have squealed.

“What’s up?” I tried to sound nonchalant as I lowered myself onto the carpet. Baby wormed between us and rested her head on Jordan’s thigh, drooling on his jeans.

“See, she remembers me.” Jordan pushed up the sleeves of his rugby shirt, exposing skin still golden-brown from skateboard camp. He propped his elbow on the sofa. His nearness charged the air between us. The fine hairs on my forearm stood on end.

“You ran out of Biology pretty fast. Are you mad at me?”

I blinked several times as my mind processed. He’d noticed I had left in a hurry?

“I’m sorry I ratted you out to Miss Gaya,” Jordan said in a rush.

“You talked to the school counselor about me?”

“I thought you knew.” He reached over and fingered my hair, like he used to do when we were kids. His hand smelled of sunshine and pines and freshly mown grass. I struggled to concentrate. A startled look jumped into Jordan’s eyes, as though he’d just realized we weren’t five anymore. He withdrew his hand. Suddenly, I wanted to swallow my pride and ask Mom to take me to her hairdresser so I could get my old color back.

Get my old life back.

“Why did you go to Miss Gaya?”

“You know.” Jordan’s voice cracked and he stopped to clear his throat. “First your dad died. Then you went all, like, Halloween with your hair.”

“You got highlights.”

“Because Evan dared me. He said he’d donate thirty dollars to the VFW if I did.”

“VFW?”

“Veterans of Foreign Wars. Grandpa belongs to it. I guess Evan’s older brother does too, since he served in Iraq.”

“Oh.”

“And then yesterday,” Jordan continued, “Parvani had to take you to the nurse. I felt, like, maybe you needed some help.” He shrugged as his voice trailed off.

Stunned, I tried to decide whether to be furious or touched.

“So, are you, like, mad at me?” He lowered his arm, and his fingers grazed my back, zapping a tingle to my core.

The phone rang in the kitchen. The sound registered in the back of my mind. “I’m not mad because you went to Miss Gaya,” I decided aloud. Ditching me for Bucky and the Smash Heads, yes.

Jordan blew a long breath out his nose. “Good, ‘cause…”

“Parvani called,” Mom said as she entered the room in a garlic-scented cloud. Seeing Jordan, her eyes widened.

My heart flat-lined. Parvani. The spell.

Mom wiped her hands on her green Kiss the Cook apron. “Jordan, how nice to see you again. Would you like to stay for dinner? We’re having pasta.”

Jordan extricated his long legs from under the coffee table. “Thanks Mrs. O, but I can’t. Mom has a committee meeting tonight and Dad has to prepare for a trial, so I need to hang with Grandpa.”

“How is he doing?” I asked.

Jordan shrugged like everything was fine, but we both knew it wasn’t. “He’s… forgetful.”

Mom placed her hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know it’s tough.” She glanced at me. “Evie, I thought you were doing homework, so I told Parvani you’d call her back.”

I nodded, determined to tell Parvani I resigned from helping her with the love spell. Mom headed back to the kitchen. I walked Jordan to the entry and opened the door. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

“You’re welcome.” He leaned over, and for a heart-stopping moment I thought he might kiss me. “Chill,” he whispered, his breath a warm caress upon my ear.

My heart yo-yoed. “Not in my vocabulary, Clark.”

His lips softened. “Can’t remember the last time you called me Clark. Guess now you’re, like, Lois Lane.” He used to call me “Jimmy” after the red-haired photographer in the Superman comics. Apparently I didn’t qualify anymore. I pushed Jordan away. Bitterness crept into my voice. “Lois probably understood math.”

He cocked his head in a cute puppy sort of way. “Doubt it. Look how long it took her to figure out Superman’s true identity.”

With an athlete’s easy grace, he picked up his helmet from the bench outside the door and put it on. Once he’d secured the strap, he retrieved his skateboard, which he’d parked next to the flowerpots bursting with purple and red primroses. Jordan pushed off. The skateboard rolled, its rhythmic and gritty sound filling my ears. He executed three kick turns, then glanced over his shoulder. “Bye, Lois. Love your pants.”

I gawked down at my inside–out Cal pants and rolled my eyes, hoping he wouldn’t notice the mortification flaming across my cheeks. Impish glee sparkled in his lake-blue eyes before he shifted to navigate the blacktop ahead.

I watched him glide down the driveway, then closed the door. Some invisible force pulled me back to the living room. My feet may have touched the floor—I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t feel my legs. Dazed, I plopped down on the couch.

A few pieces of folded binder paper on the coffee table caught my eye. My heart jackhammered as I picked them up.

Evie. I know you hate math stuff. Thought this might help. (I made copies for myself.) Call or email me if you have any questions. See ya, Lab Partner. ~J.

I blinked down at the two pages. Step by step, Jordan had explained independent and dependent variables and diagramming. He’d even drawn a couple of graphs with little dialogue bubbles off to the side explaining various aspects of the x-y coordinate plane.

The spell had worked.

Which meant, I realized as a slow burn ate at my stomach, that Parvani’s love spell might be equally successful.

Chapter Fifteen

The next morning, I dreamt Jordan and I were about seventeen, and racing down Main Street in Disneyland. The sun shone, corny music played in the background, and the smell of popcorn filled the air. The scene shifted, and we sat next to each other on a boat ride. One more curve before the big waterfall, and Jordan leaned close. This was it. The big kiss. I parted my lips, my body one giant tingle of anticipation, and—the phone woke me.

“No!” I cried into the pillow.

I staggered to my desk, plunged my hand into a pile of papers, and unearthed the phone. Parvani’s name showed on the caller ID.

“Hey,” I said. “I’m so sorry. I forgot to call you back last night.” Actually, I’d been too upset to call, but what’s one more lie between best friends?

“You’re forgiven.” Parvani sounded worried. “Was Zhù in Yearbook yesterday? He made it to History and Honors Geometry, but I didn’t see him on the field after school.”

My conversation with Señora Allende flashed in my mind, along with a half-dozen worrisome thoughts. “No, I didn’t see him.” But I wasn’t there the whole time.

“I hope he’s okay. Maybe I’ll text him.”

“Yeah, you should. Good luck.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

Zhù. Zhù. Zhù. I tapped the phone against my lips. The longer he’s absent, the more Parvani will realize how much she cares about him. The more she realizes, the less inclined she’ll be to perform a love spell involving Jordan. I had some serious work to do.

“Evie, you’re running late. Get moving!”

I saluted my bedroom door and Mom’s voice beyond it. The woman was not a morning person. She must have been a mind reader though, because when I dragged my carcass out to the kitchen, Mickey Mouse-shaped waffles awaited.

This was going to be a good day. On impulse, I went back to my room and changed into a daffodil-colored top. Parvani—who would watch every fashion reality show if given the time—had designed it. It had a cool, asymmetrical neckline and what she called “bracelet sleeves,” which meant the sleeves were three-quarters length to show off your jewelry. Too bad I didn’t own any.

Before leaving, I crouched on the floor and made sure the dirty clothes still hid the spell book. When I flipped back my mud-splattered jeans, the grimoire hissed foul-smelling brimstone.

“Stop it!” I ordered. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Behave.” My heart did a heavy metal drum solo as I closed the door behind me.

Since we were running late, Mom took the shortcut down Lucas. Weak rays of sunlight caused steam to rise from puddles on the street. I shivered and crossed my arms against my torso. Three more houses, then the stop sign, then the car engine would be warm enough so Mom could turn on the heater.

Up ahead, I spotted Salem walking alongside the road, her body bent beneath the weight of her backpack. Her breath formed tiny clouds. A long black sweater billowed beneath her backpack and slate-colored leggings encased her matchstick legs.

“Mom, pull over. It’s Sarah.”

Mom swerved the Volvo to the curb as if she were a police officer cutting off a suspect. If I had been Salem, I would have screamed or had a heart attack. Instead, she froze and reached for the pentacle keychain on her backpack.

I jumped out. “Hey! Want a ride?”

Her face relaxed and she released the five-pointed star. “Sure. Thanks.”

“Sarah, this is my mom,” I said as Salem crawled into the backseat.

“Thanks for stopping,” Salem said. “My mom’s car has a flat tire and we didn’t discover it until after Dad was halfway to San Francisco.”

“Oh no,” Mom said in her most sympathetic voice. “You should have called us.”

“Next time.” Salem opened up her backpack and pulled out a yellow folder with doodles all over the cover. I recognized it from English. “Do you think we’ll have a quiz today?”

I flashed on the less-than-stellar grade Salem had gotten on the last one. “I think we’re going to get the first drafts of our compositions back.”

Salem sighed. “I wish I was as good at English as you are.”

“Trust me, you’re way better at math. Everyone is.”

Mom did a California slowdown at the stop sign and switched on the heat. Warmth kicked out of the dusty vents with a low roar. Four more turns, and we reached Parvani’s wrought iron gate. As it hummed open in a graceful sweep, I said, “Sit by me in English. I’ll be your critique partner.”

Salem’s jaw dropped. Her kohl-rimmed, blue-gray eyes widened a bit. “Awesome. Thanks.”

Mom’s silent approval wrapped around me like a love cloud.

Parvani appeared preoccupied as she emerged from her house and headed for the car. When she opened the door, the soothing sounds of the Tuscan fountain trickled in. Parvani raised her backpack to throw it, stopping at the last moment when she noticed Salem.

“Oh, hey.”

“Guess who we found walking to school,” I said.

“Flat tire,” Salem added.

“Bummer.” Parvani dropped her backpack on the floor mat, settled in, and buckled up.

Salem shoved her yellow folder into her backpack. “Nice mansion.”

“Thanks.” The warmth from the car steamed Parvani’s glasses. She pulled them off and blinked.

“Did you reach Zhù?” I asked.

“No. I didn’t!” Parvani sounded incredulous and worried. She didn’t have much experience with Zhù ignoring her. Just Jordan. Something she might want to consider.

Once we reached school and said good-bye to Mom, we crossed the football field. A pack of senior girls shivering in clingy tops, mini-skirts, and flip flops did a double take when they saw us. A twinge of doubt snaked into my brain. Would hanging out with Salem make me seem like a loser?

I checked to make sure the lump from my film canister necklace wasn’t too obvious. Hmm. Maybe I was the one endangering Salem’s reputation. Parvani, with her perfect ballerina posture and exquisite couture clothes, appeared oblivious. She kept looking around, and for once I didn’t think she was searching for Jordan.