Twist My Charm (8 page)

T
he adults are all friendly and smiley as Dad introduces Terri to Paige. Dad's plenty chatty, sharing lots and lots of words with Terri now that it's too late.

When Terri broke up with Dad, I remember her being upset—well, not really upset, but sad—thinking Dad was spending a lot of time with Paige. That was back when Samantha and I were so close we wanted to be sisters, and we thought if her mom married my dad, it would be the best thing ever. But I know better now. If I know anything about love—and I'm definitely learning a lot from Ryder Landry's songs—there's a person out there who's right for you. Ryder calls it your
Only One.
Sure, people can date and like each other and even think they're in love, but there's only one
real
one out there. One
right
one.

Terri is definitely Dad's
Only One.

When there's a pause in the conversation, Dad takes another sip of his drink and makes a face. “That is really…unusual punch,” he says.

Really, Dad?
I think.
If you thought it was that interesting, why didn't you tell Terri when you needed to?

I stand there, stunned by everything that's happened. There's only one thing I can do now, and it's the opposite of what I thought I'd want tonight.

I have to hope the love potion doesn't work.

Standing with Dad, Terri, and Paige, I want to get away as fast as possible. “I've…uh…gotta go,” I say. “I still haven't seen Madison's or Sam's stuff. Bye!”

I zoom through our art gallery gym, frantically searching for Madison…Sam…Larry…Ryder Landry's head…anything to get away from the big, dumb mistake I made. I need to warn Madison
not
to do anything. I should have known better than to mess with magic. Something can always go wrong. I just forgot for one tiny moment. But I can't give up now, because I need to fix what I've done. And how in the world am I supposed to do that?

Down an aisle my eye catches a glimpse of yellow hair, puffier and even more canary-colored than Mrs. Paddington's.

It's Ryder Landry's head—with a wig on top, it looks like.

In front of the head is Madison. Alone. Maybe that's good. Maybe nothing else has gone wrong.

I join her. “Ryder looks great,” I say. I have to say something.

“Oh, he looks bad,” she says. “I couldn't make the hair work with chicken wire, so my mom gave me a wig, but I'm about as good a hairdresser as I am at papier-mâché.”

Before I knew Madison for real, I thought she was great at everything. Now I look at Ryder—skin too orange, teeth too big and white, eyelashes too fake—and I know Madison isn't perfect. I like that in a friend, I decide. Samantha isn't perfect either. I wish we could all be imperfect together.

“No, he's totally cute,” I say, just to be nice.

Madison looks at me seriously. “Something went wrong,” she says.

Oh no! Madison's a bad artist
and
she makes mistakes just like I do? She's even more imperfect than I thought!

I want to know every detail, so I have to tell her the truth. “Something went wrong with me too.”

“What happened?” she asks. I look into Ryder Landry's unnaturally blue eyes and tell her the whole story.

“We'll fix it,” Madison promises. “We're smart. We've got the book. There'll be a way to undo it, for sure.”

I like hearing all this, though there's no way of knowing if any of it is true. But now I need to find out what
else
happened.

“What went wrong for you?” I finally ask. “Did Larry drink the potion?”

Madison is about to answer when a voice interrupts us.

“Hey, Cleo, I haven't seen your project yet. Where is it?” I turn to see Larry sipping from a blue cup, his headphones sitting around his neck.

Madison and I aren't thrilled with the interruption, but it's not his fault. He doesn't know. “Over with the drawings and paintings,” I tell him. I notice that his music is still filling the gym. “Hey, how is your music still playing if you're here with us?”

“I made a playlist long enough to let me take a break. I had to see what my compadres were up to and toast to their success!” He lifts his cup in the air, then drinks. “Aaaack!” he screams, pointing at Madison's Ryder Landry head. “What's that?”

“Oh, leave me alone!” Madison tells him. “That's Ryder Landry and you know it.”

“Ryder Landry again?” Larry makes a barfing motion. “Don't you ladies know there are awesome dudes like me right here at school?” He throws his arm over my shoulder and starts singing at the top of his lungs.
“You, you, you plus me, me, me. Put us together, it's chemistry!”

I wriggle out from underneath, laughing. “You know his songs way too well to blame it on your little sister!”

Madison points in the direction of the DJ table. “Go play that song right now!”

“I'll get right on that…after I've played every other song known to man!” Larry says, strolling away. Then he turns and winks at both of us. “Have a good night, ladies.” Bowing toward me, he adds, “Cleo,” like one of King Arthur's knights.

“I like him, but he can really be annoying sometimes,” I say to Madison. “Now, what happened?” I pause and make sure Larry is far enough away so he won't hear me. “So…did he drink the potion or not?”

“No,” Madison says, disappointed.

“Well, maybe that's a good thing—”

Madison cuts me off. “It's not good. I was mixing up the potion in some lemonade and Sam came back.”

She's right. That's not good. “Did she see you do it?”

“No, not really, but she was all suspicious like before.”

“You didn't…
give
it to her, did you?” I ask. If Samantha drank the potion without Larry around, she could've talked to…anyone after that. A teacher, a cafeteria worker, the hamster in the fourth-grade classroom. Anyone!

“No, no, no. But she was asking and asking. She really wasn't letting it go.”

I smile. Samantha's like Toby when he wants to be taken on a walk or play with his favorite squeaky toy. When she puts her mind to something, she usually gets it.

“I had to get her to stop, so I told her to go find you and check out your drawings.”

“Well, that's okay,” I say with a sigh. But I can tell there's more to come.

Madison takes a deep breath. She looks at her Ryder Landry head as if he'll help her say the next thing. “I put it down.”

“Put what down?” I ask.

“The lemonade. When I was talking to Sam.”

“What do you mean?” I'm afraid I already know what she means, but I want to be sure.

“I left the lemonade on the table.”

“O…kay,” I reply, thinking it over. “That's not so bad, though. You wouldn't drink a lemonade you didn't pour, right?”

“I was hoping that, but when Sam walked away, I turned around and it was gone.”

“The lemonade…with the potion in it…was gone?”

Madison nods, biting her lip and picking at her nail cuticles. She looks worried, frustrated, and almost scared. So I try to make her feel better.

“I'm sure someone threw it out.”

“You think so?” Madison's blue eyes look hopeful.

“Sure,” I say. But inside I'm imagining everything that could have gone wrong: A teacher drank it and then talked to a student….A student drank it and then talked to a teacher….Lisa Lee drank it and then talked to the papier-mâché Ryder Landry head….

This is a problem. More than a problem. This could be big, big trouble—at school and at home. Madison must think everything's okay, though, because she's already smiling again, ready to check out more artwork. I smile too, but I feel like my heart has turned into a block of cement.

What in the world happened to that cup of lemonade?

Dad seems happier than usual over the weekend…and I don't like it.

I wake up Saturday morning to Toby yowling at the foot of my bed like one of the coyotes we sometimes hear in our neighborhood. But his howls are only the second-most annoying sound I hear. Far away in the kitchen, a loud, mechanical grinding sound keeps going on and on—GRRRRRRR! GRRRRRRR!—starting, stopping, then starting again. From my bed, I call Toby over and pat him on the head to calm him down. Then I get up with a groan and shuffle down the hall. “Dad? What's that noise?”

Inside the kitchen there's an unusual sight. Dad is dressed—in clothes, not the underwear and T-shirt he usually wears until at least noon on the weekend. His hair almost looks brushed, and he's even wearing laced-up sneakers instead of flip-flops.

He pushes a button on the blender, and the noise grinds to a halt. “Remember that one week when we tried to eat more green foods? After your healthy play?”

Of course I do. Yuck.

“I know that didn't work out for us,” he admits, “so I'm trying something better—homemade smoothies!” Dad is so excited you'd think he whipped up a pot of gold coins and cupcakes. “I know you like strawberries and blueberries and bananas, but I mixed in the
really
healthy stuff so sneakily you won't even be able to taste it.”

I pull out a chair and sit at the table. “Why are you in such a good mood?” I ask.

“Oh, I don't know,” Dad says. “It was nice seeing your artwork last night and talking to your friends.”

And seeing Terri?
I wonder. No, more likely he's happy he saw Paige. Ugh. Maybe I once thought she was cool and pretty and had lots to teach me, but now I don't want her anywhere around Dad. I want Samantha to be my friend, not my sister. And I want Dad to be with his
Only One.

Dad pours the thick purple smoothie into two big cups. He hands me one with a yellow smiley face on it. The smile matches his.

“Thanks,” I say with no enthusiasm whatsoever. “I'm going back to my room.”

“Okay, but don't stay there all day. It's too nice a day to waste!”

“Cool, Dad.” I'm walking away so he doesn't see my frown.

When Dad and Terri broke up, Dad sat at his computer day and night with his shoulders slumped. Our curtains were closed, keeping out the sunlight. Mounds of dust and Toby hair started piling up in corners. I didn't like any of that. But Dad being in a good mood isn't much better. It's irritating, especially when all I want to do is look through
POCIÓNES FANTÁSTICOS
and figure out if there's any way to turn a love potion around so he and Paige
don't
fall in love. I have no free time the entire weekend, though, because Dad bursts into my room wanting to go to an art museum downtown. Later we pull weeds in the backyard, and on Sunday we go for a bike ride around the lake! We pass Red Shorts twice. First he's just walking fast, but the next time he's reading a magazine too. Dad says hello, and Red Shorts nods back as usual.

Finally, on Sunday night, I text Madison and tell her I haven't gotten even one baby step closer to finding a potion that could reverse the charm we put on Dad. And by the time Monday morning rolls around, I'm exhausted—and actually happy to be going back to school.

I'm happy, that is, until I get there. As soon as Dad parks by the curb in the parking lot, I'm ready to run for Kevin's classroom. Then Sam and her mom pull up right behind us.

Dad looks in the rearview mirror. “Is that Samantha?”

Of course it is, but I don't want Dad seeing Paige, so I say, “I don't think so,” and open my door to jump out. “You'd better go, Dad. I'm sure you have a lot of work to do!” I take a few steps toward the school, but his car doesn't pull away.

Instead, the driver's side door opens. Dad is getting out! I watch helplessly as he walks over to Sam's car and starts talking to Paige through her open window. I can't hear what they're saying, but it doesn't matter. Why are they talking at all? How often has this been happening? Is this the first time they've talked since the art show?