Funny Tragic Crazy Magic (Tragic Magic Book 1)

by Sheena Boekweg

  Oh, he drove me crazy. I came home with forty minutes left before I needed to go to school, but I was too jazzed up to go back to sleep. My house was so quiet and so empty. I took a long shower, trying to convince myself that what happened was a dream. It was easier than you would think for me to do.

  After my shower, I dressed in my best lace skirt and a light green sweater that fit snug against my magically thin frame. I twisted my hair up so it piled on my head like I was Audrey Hepburn. My hair went perfect, and I looked pretty. No, dang it, I looked beautiful.

  I still didn’t feel like enough.

  I pulled up at Joe’s house, and drove into the shoveled driveway, leaving room for Ms. P’s truck to pull out. When I knocked on his front door, Ms. P. opened it and let me in. She made pancakes and gave me a plateful. It tasted wonderful, like syrup and home all at the same time.

  Ms. P. knocked on Joe’s door.

  “This is your last warning, Joseph. If you don’t get up now, we are going to be late.” She looked at her watch.

  “Don’t worry... I’ll give him a ride.” I said.

  “Thanks, Larissa,” she said. “I don’t know what I would do without you. He got up early to shovel the walk, and then just crashed.”

  “No problem, Ms. P.” I said, eating another bite of my pancakes.

  She grabbed her jacket from a hook by the door, and felt in the pockets for her keys.

  “Try and make him eat something,” She said.

  I smiled, and she left. I stood up and opened Joe’s bedroom door. If he could walk in on me anytime he wanted, then I could do the same to him. I was sick of waiting until he wanted to see me in order for me to see him. I lay down on the side of his bed. His room looked strange from this angle; the mural seemed to be crashing down on the bed.

  Joe put his head under his pillow. I smiled. Just three hours ago, that had been me.

  “So how do you like it?” I asked him.

  “Go away, Riz.”

  I didn’t move. “It’s obnoxious isn’t it, to want to sleep and have someone talking your ear off.”

  Joe didn’t respond.

  “I’ve tried that one too, Joe: being silent, and it doesn’t work.” Joe nestled deeper in the pillow.

  “If you don’t get up soon, Joe, you are going to be late for school.” I said.

  “I don’t care.”

  This was getting annoying. “What’s your problem, Joe?”

  Joe leaned on his side facing me, “You, Riz. You’re my problem. I want you to go away.”

  My tears betrayed me at the worst moment. I bit my lip and tried not to make a sound, but they ran down my face. By the look on his face, you would think I was the one who just said something horrible. Pain, regret, and most noticeably, fear flashed across his face.

  I wish I could say I stood and left him there, or that I regained the last shred of composure I had and left with my dignity. I didn’t.

  “What did I do?” I whispered instead.

  Joe looked at me, our bodies facing each other close on his bed, so close our toes were touching. I let him see everything I was feeling, my fear, my pain at his words, even my feelings for him. I didn’t hide anything, and he in return stared at me stone faced, until that wall cracked. He turned to face his wall, his body completely still.

  “What is it?” I asked, “What’s wrong?”

  Joe didn’t move; he was quiet, and then his shoulders started shaking in silent sobs. I put my hand on his shoulder,

  “What happened?”

  His fingers started twisting in rune shapes on the pillow. Sparks flew from his fingers. I held my hand against his fingers, making them stop.

  “I’m sorry,” he said looking at his fingers, “I didn’t meant to…” There was panic on his face.

  “Joe, you’re scaring me,” I said.

  He had been acting normal, well normal for Joe anyway, until he had dropped me off.

  Intuition flashed, “What happened at the house?”

  Joe moved his hand from under mine. “Nothing.”

  “I’m not dumb.”

  Joe sat up and faced away from the mural on the other side of his room. He sat with good posture, his hands on his knees.

  His voice started quietly, “I followed the footsteps to the window, and looked outside. The footsteps ran across the fresh snow on the roof. On the other side of the window in the snow was the rune for water scraped out of the snow. I looked outside and across the street; there was this woman staring at me, and she pulled her finger across her throat.”

  I stood up.

  He turned and looked at me, and there was terror in his eyes.

  “At that exact moment you screamed, and I thought… I thought someone had hurt you.”

  “They know.” I whispered. I looked around his room, and it felt like that wave of runes thundered down on me. “Crap. The Grandmothers know you can do runes.”

  “They can threaten me all they want, but no one hurts my friends.” He stood up and faced me, his bed a barrier in between us. “And you’re my best friend, Larissa. The best friend I have ever had. I will never let anyone hurt you.”

  “The Grandmothers know you can do runes, and they know I’m associated with you. They’re in contact with your mom. That means her life is in danger too.” I said to myself, panicking so much I didn’t think about the impact my words would have on Joe.

  “But she’s a rube,” he said. “She doesn’t know anything about magic. They won’t hurt her, right?”

  “The Grandmothers have hurt a lot of people, taking down an Instinct who can do runes. My mom told me a story once, when I was barely thirteen, about a nineteen year-old Instinct who discovered she could do runes. I don’t remember what she did to gain the Grandmother’s wrath, but I remember that she thought to evade them by doing the rune for hide. Normally when a Rune performs hide, it’s like you can’t see them; they could be standing in the same room, and your eyes would just glaze past them. I used to know that rune, back when I was a kid. Anyway, the Grandmothers were ruthless. They killed every shadow who moved; they killed innocents, rubes, children. The Instinct finally gave herself up to stop them from killing any more. But then, with her in custody, they killed the last connection to her past just in case she was hiding behind another’s face.”

  “You should be dead right now,“ I told him. “You did a rune, and they know it. And they warned you. Why would they have warned you, but not silenced… they’ve shown unusual kindness to you, and I’m scared. I don’t know enough runes to protect you. To protect your mom. I need my mom’s notebook. And I need it now.”

  “Well, I’ll help you get it.”

  “That’s the thing,” I said. “I don’t know where it is. It could be anywhere. It could be in the Grandmothers’ Study, or at Giara’s house, or hidden under a rock in the middle of Russia.”

  “So what can we do?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Do you see now why I’m freaking out?”

  Joe sat back down on the bed. He pulled the blanket over his knees and stared into space for a minute. I stared at him, hoping that some brilliant thing would pop into his mind and save us.

  I breathed in deep and tried to slow my heartbeat.

  “Okay…” I said. “So they know. They were just warning you not to do it again. Maybe you haven’t crossed the line yet. Maybe it’s not as bad as my mom said. If they were going to act, they would have.”

  “Okay,” he said.

  Why didn’t they do anything? I looked around his room, as my memory of what happened finally crystallized into a clear sense of ‘Oh crap, I’m in trouble.’ I always felt like the Grandmothers were monsters in the dark, protecting and threatening at the same time. But maybe the stories were exaggerated, or maybe even fiction. A lie to teach me to obey.

  “But we’re okay…” I said, a fake smile hiding my thoughts. “I’m obviously not any kind of a threat to them, and you…” I looked at him for a second and then turned
quickly away. “Anyway, if they were going to act, they would have.”

  “Okay.” Joe looked at me once, his hand brushing against my forearm. “Are you in trouble ‘cause of me?”

  I looked down at the floor.

  “Yeah, you could say that.” I admitted.

  My neck ached, and my eyes were tired. It was just too much, too much in one day. I was exhausted and it wasn’t even eight a.m. yet. I lay down on Joe’s bed and pulled the covers over my head.

  “You are right about one thing, though.” I said through his comforter.

  “What?”

  I’m gonna get hurt because of you, I thought but didn’t say.

  Instead of the truth, I hid behind another smile as I pulled the comforter away from my face.

  “Ditching school seems like a good idea.” The bed moved as he lay back down next to me. “Just for today.”

  We lay facing each other, sharing Joe’s pillow. His sheets smelled like tide as they covered us. We felt like we were safe in a tent. A tent in a tornado maybe, but at least we couldn’t see the storm raging outside.

  “I’m sorry,” Joe said. “I’m so sorry.”

  I didn’t know if he was apologizing for his words or for what was going to happen to me because of him. Either way, I didn’t have a response. I turned my back to him and tried to fall asleep.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I woke up with Joe’s knees resting against the back of mine; his left hand was on my shoulder. I felt safe for the moment, but it didn’t feel romantic as much as it felt like he wanted to make sure I was still there. I stretched my legs, and Joe turned away from me pulling the top sheet with him.

  Ms. P. stood in Joe’s room with her arms folded.

  “Joe,” I said, “We’re dead.”

  I sat up, ready to explain that nothing happened; I still had my shoes on for goodness sake. Joe woke and called out for me. That would have made me happy except that it just earned us more trouble.

  Ms. P. escorted me into the front room and sat me down on the couch. All the while, I was trying to explain myself and point out I was still wearing my shoes so obviously nothing happened. However, she ignored me and went back in for Joe.

  He, for some reason (I had no idea) wasn’t currently wearing his shirt. I put my head in my hands. He was so not helping the situation. She sat him down in a seat far away from me and then began pacing the living room.

  “Where’s your shirt?” I asked.

  Ms. P. interrupted me, “You will speak when spoken to.”

  You could tell she was flustered. Adults are always flustered when speaking in Ye Olde English. It’s just a fact. She turned to Joe.

  “Where’s your shirt?” she asked.

  “I was wearing a sweater, and it got hot so I took it off,” Joe said.

  “Joe, go put a shirt on,” Ms. P. ordered.

  Joe stood and for a second I looked over at him. I could see the muscles on his back lean and pulsing. He had a farmers tan. I looked away. Ms. P. was watching me.

  I tried not to blush. Ms. P. squatted down so her eyes were level with mine. “Larissa, you are a good girl, you need to know that these actions you are taking have serious consequences…”

  “Nothing happened,” I said emphatically. “I’m wearing shoes.”

  “Larissa, a good girl doesn’t lay down in a bed with a boy.”

  I put my head down on my arms. Joe entered the room.

  “Joe, you have missed too many classes this semester.” Ms. P. said. “I can’t excuse any more without threatening my position. Then I come home to find you in bed with my best student? You made a promise that this year would be different, that you’d be done messing with girls.”

  “Hey,” I said, standing up. “Stop. Joe is a great person. You don’t know what… Look, I made a mistake, and I’m sorry. I went into Joe’s room and tried to wake him up so we could go to school, but I fell asleep. That’s all that happened. We will make up our homework, I promise. I’ll help him. Nothing happened. I’m still… wearing… shoes!”

  I walked to the door.

  “I’m going now.” I looked over at Joe one more time and he was smiling at me, as if he saw the joke in all of this.

  Ms. P. stopped me with her next sentence, “I’ll be speaking to your mother about this, Riz.”

  “Good luck with that,” I said as I closed the door.

  “Joe, you’re grounded.” Ms. P. yelled. “School and home, that’s it...”

  I walked to my car trying not to smile.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  When I got home, there was a message on the machine. I ignored it for a minute, opened up the dinner cupboard for a can of soup, and pulled my notebook out of my backpack. Joe had drawn the new rune in my notebook before he even woke me up. The new rune from the front door of the abandoned house stood out on the page. Maybe it’s just my OCD, but I wanted more than anything to give this rune a name.

  This was probably a dumb thing to do, but I drew the rune on the kitchen counter. At first, nothing really seemed very different, but then it felt like the shadows started collecting in the corners of the room. As I moved my hand past them, they jumped out at me and landed in my hair. I wiped away the rune as quickly as I could, but still there was this feeling of anxiety that wouldn’t leave me alone. Even the silence of the house seemed louder.

  I wrote in my notebook a clear label under the rune.

  The freak-out-er.

  The Grandmothers wanted us freaked out. Accomplished. They wanted us to know that they knew Joe could do runes, and that they were watching us. They left my sister’s princess shoe to tell me they knew I was involved with Joe, and that they could kill me as easily as they did Phoebe.

  No, my family died in a car accident. The Grandmothers didn’t kill them.

  Right?

  I glanced at the blinking light on the cordless phone base. I pulled the can opener from its place in the silverware drawer, opened the can, and tossed a bowl of soup into the microwave. Nothing like a home cooked dinner.

  After the microwave beeped and I took my first bite of the lukewarm soup, my curiosity got the better of me. I pulled the cordless phone from its base and dialed #987. A minute of robot-ese asked me if I wanted to check my messages -- and by the way how obnoxious is that? I called the number to check my messages, so what else would I want to be doing? Robots are not that intelligent.

  Anyway, I had one message, and it started playing.

  “Theresa, this is Maggie Penrod, we met last week at Parent Teacher conference. I’m Joe’s mom. I’m sure you know Joe.” Her breath crackled as she sighed into the phone. “If you could call me... What we feared has happened. They’ve moved beyond friends. Please give me a call so we can set up consistent ground rules, and, you know… keep these kids from throwing away their futures. Okay. Um… I’ll talk to you soon.”

  The message robot asked if I wanted to erase the message, and I hung up knowing that the message would automatically save.

  Ms. P. met my mom last week. How was that possible? My eyes naturally glanced at the protection rune my mom left still glowing viable.

  Meg. Meg would know. I dialed her number and took a bite of soup while I waited. Her brother answered and harassed me for a minute as only a twelve year-old boy can. Then eventually I got Meg on the phone.

  “Hey.” I said.

  “Wow, you do exist,” she said.

  Her feelings were hurt. I didn’t realize that all that time I was spending with Joe usually went to Meg. I was that obnoxious girl who got a boyfriend and then ditched all her friends. And Joe didn’t even like me.

  “I’m so sorry, Meg,” I said. “I know I haven’t been a good friend to you lately.”

  We talked for a minute about what was going on in her life: swim practice, history tests, and her mom taking away her IPod because she brought it with her to church… Rube stuff. It felt good to have a normal minute in between all this craziness. When she asked where I had been today, I
lied and told her I wasn’t feeling well.

  “Hey,” I said trying to sound like the idea just popped in my head, “You were at Parent Teacher conference, right?

  “Yeah,” she said, “the swim team was selling cookies. You want any?”

  I thought for a second. “Sure. Did you see my mom there?”

  “Umm... Yeah, for a second.”

  My stomach muscles clenched. “Did she seem, I don’t know, weird?”

  “What, are you getting a B or something?” she said.

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  “Well, I just saw her for a minute while she was passing our table,” she said. “I said her name and waved, and she turned and looked around. She looked right at me, and it was like she didn’t recognize me. Me, the girl who she made matching Halloween costumes for when we were seven, and made stop sleeping in her backyard when I was nine.”

  Meg laughed at the memory, and I laughed too, though not convincingly.

  “She was probably just distracted,” Meg said. “I didn’t think anything of it. She hasn’t really been the same since that car accident.”

  I spoke quickly, “Yeah, with the new job and her traveling all the time she’s been really stressed.”

  “Makes sense,” Meg said.

  I sighed. I hated lying to Meg.

  “I gotta go,” I said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Moon Blossom.”

  “Okay, Star Twinkler. Shine bright.”

  We laughed together and then I hung up the phone. My soup had gone cold. I didn’t want to eat it, so I dumped it in the trashcan and then put the bowl in the dishwasher. I made brownies instead--from the box, not from scratch the way my mom used to make them. From the time I put the brownies in the oven until I took them out, there were no sounds in the kitchen except for the clock ticking away.

  I was going to eat the whole batch by myself, but something told me that grounding wasn’t going to stop Joe from doing whatever he wanted. I saved two corner pieces for him.

  I was right. He walked through my front door at one in the morning. I was sitting in my front room reading a Brandon Sanderson novel with a throw blanket over my legs. The phone was on the ground in front of me.