“You get so cute when you’re worried about something,” he said with a laugh.
“Jere,” I said, frustrated. “I’m serious. If you’re angry at me …”
“I’m not angry at you,” he said, and I could tell by the warmness in his eyes that he meant it. “Sure, I’m bummed things didn’t work between us, but I’ve done some thinking over the past few days.”
I sat back and raised an eyebrow. Jeremy wasn’t the pensive, deep thought type. “Thinking about what?” I asked.
“When you first broke up with me, yeah, I was angry,” he said. “And when I realized you broke up with me because you wanted to be with Drew, I was even angrier.”
“I didn’t break up with you because of Drew,” I said. “He was part of it, but there were other reasons. Drew just made me realize that some of those things that were wrong in our relationship didn’t have to be that way.”
“I know, I know.” He held up a hand, letting me know he wanted to continue. “But I was thinking about it, and I realized this was all going to happen eventually, anyway.”
My lips parted in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“We’re only juniors in high school, Liz. After graduation we’re going to college, and we both know we won’t end up in the same place. I want a big sports school, like Arizona or Maryland or Florida, and you want one of those small liberal arts places.”
“True.” I nodded, wondering where he was going with this.
“Four years in different states?” Jeremy shrugged and pushed his hair off his forehead. “We would see each other over breaks, but that wouldn’t be enough. When I thought about it that way, I realized we would probably break up before the first semester ended. So yeah, I’m bummed it had to happen the way it did, but I’m not going to let it get to me. Plus, it helps to know that you respected me enough to end things with us before letting anything happen with … anyone else.” I could tell he didn’t want to say Drew’s name, which I understood. Just because Jeremy seemed to be forgiving me didn’t mean he had to like Drew.
“You’re not angry?” I asked, needing to know for sure. I couldn’t believe Jeremy was taking this so well. He was a go with the flow sort of guy, but I hadn’t expected him to get over our three year relationship this fast.
“No.” He smiled, and I could tell he meant it. “Disappointed we couldn’t be together longer, yeah. No one likes being broken up with. But no … I’m not angry at you.”
“Good.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you told me this, Jere. I hated feeling weird around you in French and when I saw you in the cafeteria and stuff.”
“Well, I’m glad you won’t feel weird around me anymore,” he said. “Does this mean you’ll start coming to the soccer games again?” He smirked, and I could tell he was joking.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” I said with a laugh. “As you know, watching sports isn’t my favorite activity. Especially now that it’s almost December.” I rubbed my hands over my arms, feeling cold just thinking about it.
“I didn’t think so,” he said. “But hey, do you think your friend Keelie is into me?”
“Keelie?” I hadn’t seen that one coming. “I thought you were interested in Amber.”
“Amber’s all right, if you like the clingy, ditzy type,” he said. “But she’s already getting annoying.”
“I’ll ask Keelie,” I told him, starting to wonder myself. Could Keelie be interested in Jeremy? I’d never stopped to think about it, but maybe she could be. And the two of them might be good together.
“Be smooth about it,” he said, bringing his hands dramatically to his chest. “I don’t want my heart to get broken again.”
I smiled and rolled my eyes, glad that Jeremy was back to his normal, joking self. “I’ll try to find out,” I said. “And I really am glad things are cool between us now.”
“No reason they shouldn’t be,” he said, like it was the easiest thing in the world.
“Right,” I agreed, although “process of elimination” kept repeating in my mind. Because if Jeremy wasn’t angry, there would be no reason for him to cast a curse on me.
Meaning only one person could be responsible—Chelsea.
CHAPTER 9
“What did Jeremy say?” Drew asked as he played with a ringlet of my hair that he found to be particularly bouncy.
“It wasn’t him.” I leaned back onto the headboard of Drew’s bed and glanced at the plasma screen TV on his wall playing old episodes of The OC. We weren’t really watching, but having the show on made sure Drew’s mom didn’t think we were doing anything in his room that our parents wouldn’t approve of.
“How can you be sure?” Drew’s eyes darkened in concern.
“I just am,” I told him. “I wish you could have heard what he said. I don’t even think he’s upset about the break up anymore. He had this revelation that our relationship wouldn’t have made it through us going to different colleges, so now he’s fine with it. He even asked me to find out if Keelie’s interested in him.”
“He’s interested in Keelie?” Drew looked perplexed.
“Yeah,” I said. “I was surprised too, but it makes sense. Keelie and I are similar, but unlike me, she likes going to sports games and all that school spirit stuff.”
“Hm,” he said. “When you put it that way, it does kind of make sense.”
“Anyway, that’s not the point,” I tried to get the conversation back to what we needed to discuss. “Because now that we know Jeremy isn’t responsible, I need to talk to Chelsea.”
“I thought it was her since Alistair told us about the curse,” Drew said. “You know she’s not going to admit it, right?”
“That’s what I’m most worried about.” I chewed on my lower lip. “I was just going to try talking with her and see what happens.”
“The best chance you have is to catch her with evidence, so she can’t deny it,” he said simply.
I took a moment to absorb his words. I hoped he had a plan, because I sure didn’t. “How do you suppose I do that?”
“Thanksgiving dinner.” He sat up straighter, and I suspected he’d been thinking about this all day. “You’re going over her house.”
“What do you want me to do when I’m there?” I asked. “Raid her room?”
He raised an eyebrow, giving me the feeling that yes, that was exactly what he wanted me to do.
“No.” I shook my head. “No way. Not happening.”
“Why not?” he asked. “We agreed she’s not going to admit it if you ask nicely. If it ends up making a difference between you staying alive or not, isn’t it worth it to peek through her stuff?”
I pressed my lips together, not saying anything. I’d never snooped through anyone’s stuff before. Just thinking about it felt intrusive.
“Have you had any more dark omens today?” he asked.
“The mirror in my bronzer compact cracked when I was getting ready for school,” I admitted.
“Broken mirror,” he said. “If that’s not an obvious sign, then I don’t know what is.”
“It’s not like I need these signs.” I pulled my legs up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, like a barrier to the bad luck surrounding me. “We already know about the death omens. There’s no need to keep being reminded about it. It’s like whatever’s trying to get me is torturing me first. I hate it.”
He put his arms around me and pulled me closer, so my cheek rested on his chest. I listened to the steady sound of his heartbeat and considered his suggestion. It wasn’t like I questioned if Chelsea was responsible or not. It had to be her—it was the only possibility that made sense. And while I hated the idea of sneaking through Chelsea’s room, wasn’t it worth it if I found something that forced her to admit what she did? Then we could figure out how to fix this mess she’d created.
What was a little privacy intrusion compared to putting a curse on me that resulted in omens of death teasing me until they could do their dirty work a mont
h from now?
Which led to the issue bothering me most: I understood that Chelsea was angry with me, and that she might never want to be friends with me again. Maybe I didn’t deserve her friendship after not being honest with her about my feelings for Drew. But to hate me so much that she wanted me dead?
Chelsea wasn’t the sweetest person in the world, but I never thought she could be that … evil.
“Are you okay?” Drew asked, bringing me out of my thoughts.
I realized a tear had slipped out, and I tried to wipe it away before he saw it.
“Hey,” he said, cupping my cheeks his hands. “We’re not going to let anything bad happen to you, okay?”
Looking into his brown, gold-flecked eyes, full of emotion for every word he was saying, I knew he meant it. Together we would do everything possible to stop this spell from taking effect.
And if we were truly going to do everything possible, it meant doing things I wouldn’t do in normal circumstances—like raiding my former best friend’s room when I was over her house for Thanksgiving dinner.
“I don’t like thinking that Chelsea could hate me enough to do this.” I sniffed. “But I do see why your idea might work.”
“So you’ll do it?”
“I’ll do it,” I confirmed. “We just have to figure out how I can avoid getting caught. At least not until I find something useful.”
With that, we formulated a plan.
CHAPTER 10
Every Thanksgiving up to this one, I’d woken up relaxed, knowing I didn’t have to worry about homework since our teachers never assigned it over break. The scent of pancakes would filter through my room—my mom cooked them every Thanksgiving morning—and I would have a bunch of texts from friends, mostly mass text messages wishing me a Happy Thanksgiving.
All of that was the same today, minus the feeling relaxed part.
This morning, I was so worried about what was going to happen at dinner that not even the delicious smell of pancakes was making me hungry.
I rolled over and clutched my comforter tighter around me, not wanting to wake up. Why was it that when you were looking forward to a specific day, it took forever to arrive, but when you were dreading a day, it was there immediately?
I wanted to close my eyes and sleep more, so I wouldn’t have to think about the upcoming task tonight. The idea of being in confined quarters with Chelsea was making me nauseated.
“Elizabeth!” my mom called from downstairs. “Time for breakfast!”
I managed to get out of bed, trudge to the bathroom, and freshen up before heading downstairs. I looked awful—the huge circles under my eyes were a giveaway to how long it had taken me to fall asleep last night.
“You look exhausted,” my mom said when I stepped into the kitchen. “Trouble sleeping?”
“I haven’t talked to Chelsea since trying to apologize on Saturday,” I said, setting the table in preparation for the Thanksgiving Breakfast Pancake Feast. “And that didn’t go well.”
“You’re worried about seeing her tonight,” my mom guessed. I doubted it was hard to figure out.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “She won’t talk to me at school anymore. Luckily I have Drew and Keelie and Hannah—even Jeremy and I are on good terms now—but I miss being friends with Chelsea.”
I’d actually talked with Keelie about the same thing Tuesday at lunch. She didn’t understand why I wanted to be friends with Chelsea in the first place. She said Chelsea was an awful friend, and that people at school thought she was snobby. I wondered if people thought I was snobby for hanging out with her, but I didn’t ask. It’s amazing how often people mistake shyness for snobbiness.
All it took to make Keelie understand was reminding her that she had been best friends with Shannon since elementary school. Shannon made Chelsea look tame. Sometimes the history you had with someone was more important than anything else. The sleepovers in middle school when we did each other’s makeup and watched made-for-TV movies all night, the time when Chelsea stood up for me when people made fun of me in French class last year, and all the time talking on the phone chatting about whatever was on our minds. You grew comfortable with that person. They knew everything about you, the good and the bad, and wanted to spend time with you anyway.
That sort of friendship isn’t something you can walk away from without caring at all.
“Are you sure you’re okay going over there?” my mom asked, placing a stack of pancakes in the center of the table and sitting down. “I could tell Tyler you weren’t feeling well.”
I wished that were possible. If I didn’t have to investigate Chelsea’s room, I probably would have agreed to it. And it wouldn’t have been a lie, since the idea of being around Chelsea was truly making me feel sick.
“No, it’s okay,” I told my mom, forcing a smile. “It might be a good thing to see Chelsea away from school.”
“Maybe she’ll get into the spirit of Thanksgiving and will want to forgive you and start fresh,” my mom said, putting two pancakes onto her plate.
I did the same, figuring I should try to eat. “That would be nice, but I don’t think so.”
“You never know,” she said. “It is the most magical time of the year.”
“That’s Christmas, Mom.” I rolled my eyes.
“And the spirit of Christmas starts on Thanksgiving!” she argued. “Speaking of which, I have to give the handyman a call this week so he can get our lights up.”
That was one big similarity between my mom and I—we were indoor girls. Neither of us climbed ladders in the freezing cold to wrestle with Christmas lights.
Hopefully I wouldn’t be stuck doing Christmas dinner with Chelsea and her dad, too. That would really be awful. I figured it was best not to say anything.
Who knew what could happen between now and then?
* * *
Once I started eating pancakes, they were so good that I’d had way more than I should have. I didn’t know how I would be hungry for dinner. My mom and I did our Thanksgiving tradition of watching the Macy’s Day Parade in the living room, followed by the dog show that was on afterward. The dogs were cute to watch, although I was more of a cat person. Not that I could get a cat while I lived at home, since my mom was allergic, but I planned on getting one after graduating college.
That was a long way off, though. And I shouldn’t be planning that far ahead, since my biggest concern right now was fixing whatever dark spell Chelsea did so I would make it through the next full moon.
My mom and I weren’t into sports, so we didn’t watch the football game, despite it being an American tradition. Instead, I took a long, hot shower, and spent a lot of time getting ready for dinner. I wanted to look my best. Yes, it was only Chelsea and her dad, but by looking good, I could give Chelsea the impression that her being mad at me wasn’t stressing me out as much as it was.
I wore a new dress, and blew out my hair and straightened it, which I hadn’t done for months. Mainly because straightening my hair reminded me of how Jeremy had pushed me to wear it straight because he liked it better that way. But I liked how my hair looked both curly and straight, and I was no longer the girl who wore my hair a certain way because my boyfriend told me to. I would do whatever I was in the mood for.
Drew would tell me I looked beautiful no matter how I wore my hair, even if I did something crazy like chop it all off. I would never do something like that, but knowing he wouldn’t judge me for it was important.
The day passed fast. When we arrived at Chelsea’s, I looked at the house I’d been to a million times—wooden panels, blue shutters, the two car garage, and the brick chimney.
I had so many good memories there, but right now, all I could feel was dread.
CHAPTER 11
To say that dinner was awkward would be the understatement of the past two centuries. At least my mom and Chelsea’s dad were low-key about their relationship. I think they were trying to make Chelsea and me comfortable. I couldn’t speak for Chelsea, but
I was grateful for that.
Chelsea one-upped me with outfits for the night, wearing a red dress that hugged her curves, and was short without being inappropriate for a family dinner. She’d also put on a lot of makeup—thick black eyeliner, and her lips were painted in the same dark red she’d been wearing to school for the past week.
If she had cast a curse on me, she was certainly getting into the part.
I would have busied myself by helping set the table and getting the food ready—anything to avoid Chelsea—but Mr. Givens had hired his housekeeper to help, so none of that was necessary. Instead, I was in the living room, drinking sparkling cider from a champagne flute while my mom and Mr. Givens had glasses of wine. Chelsea had a champagne flute of cider as well. I would have been fine with a normal glass, but I think Mr. Givens wanted us to feel grown up. It didn’t matter to me, but Chelsea kept toying with the stem, like she was at a fancy function instead of in the living room with the three of us. Every so often she would glance longingly at the bottle of wine, and I knew she would have preferred that to the cider.
I wasn’t into drinking, but at this point I imagined a glass or two of white wine would make me a lot less nervous for what I had to do tonight.
Every time my eyes met Chelsea’s, her gaze hardened, and her lips curled into a sneer. I wondered if my mom noticed. At least Mr. Givens had the foresight to have music playing in the background. It made the silences less awkward. There weren’t many silences, though—my mom and Mr. Givens kept up the chit-chat nicely.
After what felt like hours (but was really only thirty minutes), we headed to the table to eat dinner. I didn’t know how I was hungry after the Pancake Feast that morning, but the moment I inhaled the comforting smell of Thanksgiving food, my stomach rumbled. Neither Chelsea’s dad nor my mom cooked, so they ordered the food in from a local restaurant, and it smelled delicious.
But since the plan was set to start during dinner, the sight of the table worried me. Was I really about to do this? The plan wasn’t complicated, but it could still go wrong. I could get caught. And if I got caught … what could I possibly say?
Timeless (Transcend Time, #2) Page 5
