For Better or Cursed
Page 12
Mallory introduced herself, and I introduced myself and Cassandra, who was still eating like a seagull was going to swoop in and steal her food. “I like your glasses,” I said to Ji-A.
“Thanks!” she chirped. “I got them at a sample sale.”
“I didn’t know YSL had sample sales,” I said, then again wanted to kick myself for trying to show off. But Ji-A didn’t seem to notice.
“Well, it was more of a friends-and-family thing,” she said, ripping the crust off her pizza and dipping it in ranch.
“So I take it you’re from New York too?” I asked.
“Upper East Side,” she said, nodding. “But I practically live with Amirah, and she’s in Tribeca.”
“We share everything,” Amirah said, nibbling on a chicken finger as if she were trying to illustrate the point.
“Where are you from?” I asked Mallory.
“Miami,” she said, which was not what I was expecting, considering she looked like she’d need an SPF of about 182.
“Huh,” Ji-A said. She had taken a bite of quesadilla and was chewing carefully. “This isn’t bad.”
“It’s cheese and a tortilla,” Amirah said. “Guy Fieri couldn’t mess it up.”
“That’s not true,” Ji-A said. “A quesadilla can be burned, or you could get one where the cheese isn’t melted in the middle, or it could be made with muenster.”
Amirah rolled her eyes in concession. “Is that all you’re eating?” Ji-A asked Mallory, who looked down at her tray, which contained only what appeared to be PB&J on white bread. She was cutting the crusts off it like she was preparing it for a preschooler.
“Yeah.” Mallory shrugged. “I’m kind of a picky eater.” She said it with the same certainty other people reserve for saying their birthday is in March.
“What do you eat?” I asked, which was a legit question since the buffet spread had a bit of everything.
Mallory thought for a minute, twisting a napkin in her fingers. “I really like oranges,” she said, “and oatmeal, as long as it’s not Irish oats.”
“Yum,” I said, not knowing how else to respond.
There was still an empty chair at the table, and I was starting to wonder who Ruby Ramirez was when she appeared right behind Cass. I knew it was Ruby because her gold nameplate necklace said so, and I assumed she was Mallory’s partner, since she looked like someone from Miami. Ruby was gorgeous, and she was dressed like a model at the airport: low-slung green cargo pants, cropped white tank top, oversized hoodie tied around her waist, and black-and-gold Adidas shell toes. Everything about her was golden: her skin was bronzed gold, and her hair, which was shaved to about a quarter inch all the way around her head, was sunshine gold, and her eyes were the color of the beach. I bet she smelled like coconuts and mango. She glowed, except the look on her face was confused and almost PO’d.
“Hey,” she said, pulling out the chair and sitting down. “I thought we’d come down together, but when I came out of the bathroom, you were gone.” She was talking to Cass, and it took me two seconds to figure out what she was talking about. Cass was obviously her roommate, and of course had already been rude as hell.
“Sorry,” Cass mumbled, barely looking at her. “I was hungry, and it seemed like you had moved into the bathroom. No offense.”
Ruby brushed it off. “None taken,” she said. “I guess we’ve got the whole weekend to get to know each other.” With that, Cass pushed back her chair, got up, and walked away. Ruby looked after her, and then turned to Mallory. “Oh, good,” she said, “I’m glad you found something to eat.”
At that moment, my allegiances were split—I wanted to apologize to Ruby and offer some sort of explanation for Cassandra’s rudeness: she’d been sick, or she’d had a rough day. But it seemed patronizing, and also a bit like talking about Cassandra behind her back. So I said nothing as Ruby began to squeeze a lemon over her plate of fresh greens and grilled chicken breast. As soon as she was done with that, she pulled out a little pill organizer from one of the pockets on her pants and started to line capsules and tablets up alongside her plate.
We were all watching with curiosity, and Ji-A was the first to speak. “Nice supplement game,” she said. “Is that turmeric?” Ruby nodded as she popped two bright-yellow tablets into her mouth and washed them down with a swig of water.
“My colon therapist had me taking that for a while,” Amirah said. “So good for inflammation.”
Ji-A nodded in agreement, and then the four of them fell into an animated conversation about omega-3s and vitamin C. I plastered a smile on my face and sat there in silence, as I had nothing to contribute. I hadn’t taken vitamins since I was seven, and those were shaped like cars. Finally, Ruby changed the subject. “I’m Ruby,” she said to the rest of us, then forked some greens into her mouth. “What can you all do?” She was looking at me when she said it, so I went first.
“I’m telekinetic,” I said.
“I’m a quantum tunneler,” Amirah said, “so I walk through walls.”
“I heal stuff,” Mallory said, her PB&J still mostly untouched.
“Sweet!” Ji-A squealed. “You didn’t tell me that back in the room. Can you fix my nail?” She held one hand out, and sure enough, one of her talons was broken off in a jagged edge.
Mallory peered at it. “Unfortunately, no,” she said, “I can only heal organic matter.”
“Worth a shot,” Ji-A said, unfazed.
Cassandra came back to the table, carrying a tall glass of soda, no ice, and sat down again. Ruby looked at her. “I already know that Cassandra’s pyrokinetic,” she said. “Judging by the state of our shower curtain.” Oh no, I thought, what the heck did she do to their shower curtain? I tried to catch Cassandra’s eye, but she was looking down and drinking her soda very intently.
“I do astrology,” Ji-A said. I wondered how that counted as kinesis, but Mallory and Ruby seemed totally impressed.
“Can you do my chart?” Mallory gasped.
“Sure,” Ji-A said, “back in the room. You know what Wanda said about kinesis in the common spaces.” Everyone nodded gravely.
“So, what about you?” Ji-A asked Ruby.
“I’m psychic,” she said, then picked up a napkin and held it out to Cassandra. Cassandra looked puzzled, but took it from her, then immediately spilled her soda everywhere. I’d never seen Cass blush before, but now she was the color of a cranberry.
“Sorry,” Ruby said, “I know I’m not supposed to use it in here, but old habits die hard.”
“That’s sick,” Ji-A said. “So can you tell me who is going to win on The Bachelorette?”
Cassandra hadn’t used Ruby’s napkin to mop up the spill, so there was a puddle of soda on the table in front of her. I saw Ruby glance at Cassandra out of the corner of her eye before turning to answer Ji-A. “I can’t, actually,” she said. “I can’t see that far ahead. Usually it’s just a few seconds, sometimes as much as a few minutes. But it’s really helpful with Sitting, and I had to stop boxing because of it. I always knew what punch was coming next. My uncle made me quit because he said I was getting too good and the normies were getting suspicious.”
I looked expectantly at Cassandra, thinking she would jump at the chance to get to know someone who liked fighting as much as she did, but she was still just looking down at the table silently when Clarissa chirped over.
“Hello, girls,” she said, cheerily. “I’ve got an icebreaker to help kick things off.” She reached into a pocket and pulled out a stack of index cards and a little pencil, which she handed to Ruby. “You’re in charge, dear,” she said, and patted her on the shoulder before heading off to the next table.
I jumped up quickly and ran after her. “Clarissa,” I said, and she turned around, a stack of cards in her hand. “I’m so sorry, but I was wondering if I could get my phone back.”
My stomach dropped. Wanda? I was going to have to talk to Wanda to get my phone back.
“Okay, thank you,” I said.
“Not a problem,” she replied. “Let me know if you need anything else.” But she was already on to the next table.
I got back to mine to find everyone waiting for me to start.
“Okay,” Ruby said when I sat down, looking down at the cards, “I guess we’ll get started. Each card has a common babysitting disaster scenario,” she read. “With your roommate as your teammate, you will take turns reading the scenarios aloud and then calling on fellow Sitters at random to solve them. The same person cannot solve two scenarios in a row, and your answers will be scored by your peers, on a scale of one to ten. The winning team from each table will be entered into a drawing for a grand prize.”
“What’s that?” asked Mallory. Ruby flipped the card over and read off the back, “Free admission to all the indoor playgrounds in your city for an entire year. Complete with free snacks.”
Mallory let out a low whistle, and Amirah turned to me. “Don’t mess this up, Esme,” she said. “I want that prize.” She didn’t need to tell me twice: I wanted it too, and we both sat up a little straighter and leaned forward.
I looked over at Cassandra, who was staring at her knees. I could also swear that she was slowly moving her chair away from Ruby’s, and that the distance between them was growing inch by inch. This kind of grand prize meant nothing to Cassandra, but Ruby was looking at her intently. “That would be great on days when it’s too hot to go to the beach,” she said, which elicited zero response from Cassandra. Ruby’s smile disappeared and she turned back to the cards.
“Okay, first scenario,” she read: “You’re at a playground with no fence, and you’re watching four-year-old twins. They suddenly take off running in opposite directions. Which one do you chase first?” She looked straight at Mallory and nodded.
Mallory shifted a little in her seat, looked at Ruby, and then cleared her throat. “I would chase whichever child was running toward the street, or an area where he or she was most likely to come in contact with some mode of transportation.”
Ruby looked around the rest of the table. “Seven,” Amirah said. “Solid plan, but you should also yell to alert any other responsible adults at the playground, as one of them could maybe grab one of the twins.” Everyone murmured, and Ruby wrote down “7” on her scorecard, then passed everything to Mallory.
“Disaster scenario number two,” Mallory read. “You are babysitting a six-month-old who rolls off the changing table.” Everyone at the table gasped. “What do you do, Ji-A?”
Ji-A put her palms flat on the table. “That has never happened to me,” she said. “I take my role as protector of the innocent very seriously, in all kinds of sitting. But if it did, I would one hundred percent remain calm, no matter how much I was freaking out inside.” She then went on to list her steps, which included seeing whether the baby would stop crying if distracted, checking for bumps and bruises, and giving the parents a full report as soon as they got home. Everyone was nodding.
“I give it a nine,” Ruby said. “One point deducted for letting it happen in the first place.” Ji-A groaned, but good-naturedly. Mallory passed the cards to her.
“The next disaster,” Ji-A started. This was going to be our scenario. I was ready, and I also had to admit that I was kind of having fun. “You are babysitting three children, and they are playing in the backyard. As you go to get some snacks and water, you realize that one of them has locked the door and you are all locked out of the house. None of the children have shoes, and you do not have your phone.” I smiled. Something almost exactly like this had happened to me before, so I totally had this one.
Except that Ji-A called on Cassandra. Cass looked up from where she’d been staring at the floor. “Um, find a brick and break a window,” she said. “And then climb in and open the door.” From the corner of my eye, I saw Ruby’s mouth drop open.
“No,” said Mallory. “The kids have bare feet, remember? You don’t want broken glass all over the place!”
“Oh,” Cassandra said.
“I give it a three,” Amirah offered. “I mean, at least she did something.”
And so went the rest of the game. At one point, Mallory got called on again, and Cassandra actually interrupted. “You’re babysitting for a woman who is really into clowns,” Amirah had started, and the table let out a collective “ew.” “In the living room, there’s a rocking chair with a life-sized clown doll that is really freaking you out. What do you do?”
“I know this one,” Cassandra said, slapping the table as if she were hitting a buzzer. “I’d set it on fire.”
Mallory grimaced. “I would have said: confirm with the parents that such a clown doll exists in their home, but I guess incineration is another option.” She looked around the table.
“Five?” Ji-A offered. Cassandra beamed. It was the highest score she’d gotten all night.
When the game ended, Ruby took our scorecard to the front of the room, Amirah’s eyes on her the whole time. “We didn’t do too bad, roomie,” Amirah said, and at that moment, I wondered if maybe we’d actually end up being friends. Then, all of a sudden, Cassandra stood up so quickly that her chair toppled over. She was looking at me, eyes wide, and I knew what was coming. I jumped up just as quickly, was around the table in two seconds, and took her elbow.
“Hey, didn’t you say you wanted to talk to Brian?” I said, turning Cassandra away from the table. “Let’s go see if we can find him.”
“He’s right over there,” Mallory said, but I pretended I didn’t hear her and steered us in the opposite direction. Cass kept walking slower and slower, and by the time we got to the door, I was practically dragging her. Thankfully, we made it all the way into the hall before she twisted free of my grip to do a pretty good roundoff, throwing her arms in the air when she executed a perfect landing.
I ran over and managed to steer her into a nearby bathroom, which, thankfully, was empty. I figured this was a private space, so I used my kinesis to hold the door shut. If anyone tried it from the outside, they would think it was locked, which was very necessary since Cassandra had pulled her shirt off and was swinging it like a lasso. “Yeehaw!” she yelped, and then flung it at the mirror.
“Cass,” I said as firmly as I could, “put your shirt back on.” She didn’t, of course. Instead, she took off her pants. I watched as she picked up her shirt and stepped into it, pulling it up to her waist. Then she took her pants and tied them around her head. She was starting to look like Little Edie in her best outfit for the day.
“I just don’t think it is right that society dictates how we wear our clothes,” she said, turning on the hand dryer by headbutting it with a leg of her pants. I would not argue with her on that, but as her shirt fell down to her ankles, I had to think that this wasn’t exactly the best argument for it. Then, to my horror, a toilet flushed, revealing that we were not as alone as I had thought.
Whoever had been in the stall had been quiet as a ghost, and I was at Cassandra’s side in two seconds, trying to tug her pants off her head. Cassandra, of course, resisted. “Don’t cave to mainstream pressures, Esme,” she sang, twisting away from me. “When life gives you lined paper, write the other way.”
I turned, and in a panic, used my kinesis to hold the stall door shut. “What the heck?” said the person inside, as she gave the stall door a violent shove. “Why won’t this open?” I could only keep someone locked in a bathroom stall for so long, so I resumed frantically trying to get Cassandra dressed in a seminormal fashion. Then I heard a grunt from behind me, and I turned to see a woman crawling through the space between the stall door and the floor. I wanted to slap myse
lf in the forehead. I hadn’t even thought of that.
I loosened my grip on Cass, and she spun away from me, humming loudly. As the woman pushed herself up off the floor, I saw who it was: Cybill, the woman at the front desk with the caked makeup and the watery eyes. I sighed, then almost laughed: a hotel employee, already bespelled so that she couldn’t see anything unusual, like a half-naked girl pressing her nose hard against a mirror and staring intently into her own eyes.
Cybill made her way to a sink, where she washed her hands and then used a paper towel to dab at her still-streaming eyes. I figured she wouldn’t even notice us and walk right out of the bathroom. But then, she tossed her paper towel in the trash can and, to my surprise, turned to look right at me, her face twitching. “Is she okay?” she asked. Behind me, Cassandra had closed her eyes and looked calm and peaceful, two qualities that I would never normally ascribe to her. She had turned on the faucet and had one hand pressed against it, so water was spraying out and onto the floor.
“She’s fine,” I said to Cybill, surprised that anything odd had registered with her. But as soon as I said that, Cassandra pushed herself away from the wall, screamed at her own reflection, then raised a fist and smashed it into the mirror. The mirror spider-webbed, and as Cass reared back to smash it again, I could see the glass was smeared with blood. Instinctively, I held up my hand and used my kinesis to hold her back, but she struggled against me, blood dripping from her knuckles as I pulled her farther and farther from the spot where she wanted to be.
My kinesis was like a grip. A grip about one hundred times stronger than my actual physical grip, but Cassandra kept flailing around, and whatever had taken hold of her had made her even stronger than she normally was. In two seconds, she’d twisted free. As she ran toward the mirror, her sock-clad foot hit some of the water she’d sprayed on the floor. She slid, and then tripped on her shirt, which was now twisted around her ankles, and fell like someone in a cartoon who’d just stepped on a banana peel.