by J. J. Medina
“What just happened?” I ask.
“She almost busted her ass,” Miranda says. “That would’ve been funny. Vámonos.”
Interesting. Meeting JP and Miranda can’t be a coincidence. Their energy’s different. Is it earth magic? If it is, I hope they’re not planning on draining mine then dumping my lifeless body in a ditch somewhere. Great. Thanks for making me all paranoid, Selene.
We head into a rotunda filled with banners hanging from the rafters. JP says they’re for the all-time greatest musicians, actors, and directors.
“Summer acts like her shit don’t stink because her parents are the stars of Deathly Chills,” Miranda says.
“What’s that?”
“Seriously?” Miranda says. “Did you live in an ivory tower or something?”
“Yes, actually,” I say.
I get the ‘what?’ look.
“Ha, just kidding.” Yikes.
“Okay,” Miranda says. “It’s a horror movie that made like a billion dollars even though it’s garbage.”
Huh. Not a surprise. Most human entertainment is a waste of time. “So your dad’s a rock star, JP?”
“He’s an asshole first,” JP snaps. “In his spare time, he’s a rock star.”
Yikes, guess I touched a nerve. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay. We just don’t get along.”
That makes two with daddy issues. “I give you two credit for holding back on Summer. I was ready to knock her out.”
“It pisses her off that I succeed in spite of not having parents to pave my way, unlike most in this school,” Miranda says. “I aced the written exam and the talent audition. Got a full scholarship after the sixth grade. Hey, don’t hate the playa, hate the game, right?”
“Looking good, Miranda,” says a cute boy wearing a football jersey. He’s surrounded by a group of guys. “How about we hang out sometime? Have some fun?”
“Screw you,” Miranda snaps.
Whoa, where did that come from?
“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” the boy says. He blows Miranda a kiss. The group he’s with starts chuckling as they walk away.
“What was that about?” I say.
“Just a bunch of immature scumbags,” Miranda says. “¡Idiotas!”
I’m curious to know what made her flip out, but I just don’t have the time. Way too draining.
A group of teens break out in song. Some create a beat with their voices; others are banging on lockers. They’re in perfect sync. The music’s upbeat.
The spontaneity of it is surprisingly fun. I stop to watch. Miranda and JP do, too. This would never be allowed back home. The performers would be expelled and everyone standing around would be put in detention for disrupting. I would know. I’ve had my share of parent-teacher conferences for goofing around with Leung between classes. Its why we were both put into homeschooling.
“They’re rockin’ Paramore’s ‘Ain’t it fun,’” Miranda says.
A ringing noise blasts through the hallway, ending the performance prematurely.
“It’s the start of first period,” JP says. “Where you heading, Aria?”
“I gotta pick my schedule up from Principal Haze’s office.”
“She’s on the fifth floor, just take the elevator up. Do you want to hang at lunch?”
“Sure.” I’m curious to learn if they’re dabbling in magic.
“Let’s go, JP,” Miranda says. “We can’t be late for English again.”
“English? But you two speak it fine,” I say.
“Ha!” laughs JP. “She’s just as weird as I am.”
Miranda grabs JP’s hand and drags him away.
I head in the opposite direction and step into the elevator. The doors close. A sharp pain shoots through my head. Images of the days, weeks, months before I left Crothinia bombard me. Fighting off Dagon. Joking with Leung. My father sending me to Earth. Someone’s in my head, trying to delve deeper. Get out! Focusing, I push back with every ounce of magic I can muster. Nothing.
Then, everything. My magic spikes, sending whoever’s in my head out. The elevator doors open. I take a quick look around, but it’s just an empty hallway. Everyone’s in class. Someone singled me out and now knows who I am. Great. This day just gets better and better.
Five
· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·
PROGRAM CARD IN HAND, I head to second period. I open the auditorium door and music streams from the room. It’s dimly lit and less than half the seats are full. Summer and her crew are performing on stage. She’s the lead singer and dancer. They’re really good. Ugh!
I make out Miranda and JP in the crowd. Yay! Waiting for the routine to end, I lean against the wall. Light floods the auditorium. The music stops. Everyone looks back. Why me? I turn to see several switches behind me. Stupid place to put them.
A bald, clean-shaven man with an orange scarf around his neck stands up. Must be Mr. Mills. He reprimands me for interrupting, then tells Summer her rendition of Izzy Azalea’s “Fancy” was phenomenal.
Mr. Mills asks me to face the class and tell everyone my talent.
Great. I head to the front and notice that ridiculously hot guy with the guitar in the orchestra pit. The T-shirt he has on is doing a pretty awesome job showing off his physique. And I’m in this hideous dress. Wait, is he smiling at me?
I walk right into a grand piano. Laughter and snickering about my clumsiness and dress follows. An outstretched hand with a yin-yang tattoo on the wrist helps me up.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” says a woman with glasses. “You’re not the first girl to crash into my piano after seeing Nico.”
Why doesn’t that surprise me?
“Everyone calm down,” Mr. Mills says. “Now what’s your talent, Ms. Dawn?”
“I, um, sing a little.”
“What’s with the indecisiveness? You’ve got to know who you are in this world.”
“Okay, I sing!”
“That’s more like it. The fashion diva sings.”
And just like that, the snickering resumes.
“Let’s take a ten-minute break. When we return, Ms. Dawn will grace us with a song.”
The class filters out. Miranda and JP approach.
“Good luck, Aria,” Nico says as he passes by.
“You know Nico?” Miranda says. Her eyes light up with excitement.
“No,” I say. “But I would love to. Who is he?”
“He’s the band leader. He’s got mad drum and guitar skills. And, he’s fine as hell.”
I laugh when I see her doing the same thing I am—checking out his ass.
“He’s not all that,” JP says.
“Sure, whatever, JP,” Miranda says. “So what song are you singing, Aria?”
“Good question.” Wait. The song the man on the train was singing. “‘Stand By Me.’”
“Old school…nice,” Miranda says.
“I don’t know all the words, though,” I say.
“Don’t panic. I’ve got it on my iPhone.”
The screen’s slightly cracked, but it still looks better than my crap.
“Now that’s a phone,” I say.
“Are you dissing my iPhone?” Miranda says. “What do you have?”
“Believe me, I’m not.” I pull out the phone Selene gave me and show it to them.
“What’s that, a garage door opener?” JP says.
Thanks for helping me fit in, Selene.
Miranda shoves earbuds in my ears. “Memorize the song backstage. I’ll set everything up.”
I’m unable to concentrate backstage. This can’t possibly be stage fright? I’ve performed in Crothinia’s National Arts Theater in front of top officials. So why’s my stomach in knots? “This is a waste of time.”
“You can do this,” JP says.
He thinks I’m talking about my upcoming performance. I’m not. My life’s a mess. And things are getting worse by th
e minute. I mean…having to prove myself to humans? That’s the lowest of the low.
“The only thing that matters is putting your all into getting where you need to be. If you fail, try harder. That’s what my mom use to say before she died in a car crash.”
“I’m sorry. I lost my mother, too. I know how hard it is.”
“Yeah, I miss her. Think about her every day. The worst is feeling like you have no one to turn to. Especially when you’re left with a parent that doesn’t care about you.”
“I know the feeling.”
“Ready to rock?” Miranda blurts out. “Okay, this is the plan. JP and I will start the song off. We’ll mesmerize them with our magical voices, then Aria will take over and do the second verse solo. Don’t hold anything back, Aria. Come out swinging. Let them know who you are. Nico said he’ll have the band follow your tempo. By the way, Aria, when I told Nico if he would help out with the performance, he said, and I quote, ‘I’ll do anything Aria wants.’ He digs you.”
Interesting.
“Forget that low life,” JP says. “Aria, you ready to break a leg?”
That’s horrible. “Why would you say that?”
“It’s just a saying,” Miranda says. “It means good luck.”
“Right, of course. Well, break your legs, too.”
Miranda stares at me with a quizzical expression and JP snickers.
“I don’t need luck,” Miranda says. “I was born to sing and wield magic.”
“Wait, what?”
Two red curtains open, unveiling us to the class.
“Olvídalo,” Miranda says. “It’s showtime.”
Mr. Mills hollers for us to get the show on the road. Nico starts up the band. Miranda and JP start out in perfect tempo. They’ve got skills. I look out into a sea of expectant faces. I feel like they’re waiting for the chance to laugh me off stage. My part’s coming up fast. I take a deep breath. Sure enough, I miss my cue and freeze. The music stops.
Mr. Mills scowls. Someone shouts “loser!” I swear it’s Summer, but her head’s buried in a magazine.
“I don’t get paid enough for this,” Mr. Mills says. “Again, from the top.”
“You’ve got this,” JP tells me softly.
Taking a deep breath, I dive into the second verse. The pitch is perfection, nothing short of beautiful. Everyone’s looking at me in awe. There’s a constipated look on Summer’s face. This is what music does for me. It’s my escape from all the chaos. Mother would be proud. She would always be in the front row at my performances, embarrassing me by taking way too many pictures, cheering too loud, and crying her head off. What I would give to be embarrassed by her again. The performance ends. I smile, knowing I rocked it. Wait, the auditorium is super quiet. Did we bomb?
Mr. Mills gets to his feet clapping, leading a standing ovation. “Aria, you have talent. Miranda, JP—excellent. You three have great chemistry. I want you all to perform together at the Festival of Stars in the spring. Who knows, maybe you’ll even dethrone the reigning champs, Summer and her team. Class dismissed.”
Pumped, Miranda and JP hug me. We walk off the stage.
Summer marches over with her entourage. “You have no shot of beating us,” Summer spits out.
“Someone’s been drinking Haterade,” Miranda says. “Choke on it. We’re gonna whip your asses.”
“In your dreams, project girl,” Summer says.
“Your attitude’s pretty nasty for someone named Summer, you know that?” I say.
“That’s it, Eurotrash. Watch your back.” Summer flings her magazine at my feet before walking away with her groupies.
“She needs serious help.” I pick up the magazine. Two women grace the cover. The focus is on their rear ends. The headline reads “Butt-er-luscious, vote for your fave, J. Lo or Kim K.” Humans and their foolish obsession with celebrities. I throw it in the trash.
We’re about to leave when Nico calls my name.
“Catch you at lunch,” Miranda says. She drags an unhappy looking JP away.
I wave bye and turn to face Nico. He’s way closer than he probably should be. I so don’t mind.
“You nailed it up there,” he says.
“You smell great.” Wait, did I just say that out loud?
He laughs.
Ugh. He’s even prettier when he smiles.
“Thanks. If you need anything, including help with practice, I’m here for you. By the way, nice dress.”
“Ah, come on.” I roll my eyes. “I didn’t have much of a choice. I know it’s awful.”
“No, I really like it. It’s different.”
Okay, so he’s colorblind. Who cares? He’s hot. “I gotta go,” I say, wanting to leave before I say something stupid. “I’ll see you around.”
“Claro que sí.”
He knows Spanish, too? I wish I’d paid more attention to Earth’s languages. I feel Nico’s eyes on my ass as I exit. Eat your heart out, Kim and J. Lo.
· · · · ·
I head straight to the buffet section when I enter the cafeteria. The constant chatter is drowning out the hip-hop music playing in the background. Flat screen TVs are playing soundless music videos. Most of the food’s drowning in oil, but I’m starving. I’ll eat anything right about now. I grab an apple, pizza, and a can that reads “Pepsi.” I spot Miranda waving me over. She’s with JP at a table in the back. I feel eyes judging me, sympathetic whispers are deafening. I should be used to this, but I’m not. When my mother died, I was the poor little girl who needed help. Maybe humans and Crothinains aren’t so different after all.
There’s a handful of pizza slices between JP and Miranda.
“For Night of Stars I’m thinking Nicki Minaj,” Miranda says. There’s an excited yet thoughtful look on her face as she stares up at me. “Wild costumes, big hair, fireworks. I want heads to explode. What do you think?”
I shrug my shoulders and sit.
“Sounds like a lot of work,” JP says.
“Por favor, JP,” Miranda says. “We have to come out guns blazing for us to win. Aria, you in?”
“I’m good with whatever.” It’s not the answer she wants to hear, but she’s taking this way too seriously.
“So what did Nico want?” Miranda asks.
“Nothing, he just wanted me to know he’s around if I need him.”
“He wants you. Just be careful. He’s a dog,” Miranda says. “But most guys are, except for JP.”
“Such an ass,” JP says.
“Hey, that was a compliment,” Miranda says.
“Not you,” JP says. “I don’t believe what I’m seeing. What’s my father doing in a bar brawl? Look at this idiot.”
He’s staring at a television monitor. There’s an exclusive on TMZ of his father and another man wrestling on the floor. Then it cuts to him, bags packed, heading into rehab.
“Well, maybe third time’s the charm.” JP’s voice is dripping with sarcasm. “The other day we had a big fight. He had the nerve to say I was a disappointment. That I have no talent, and I’m disgracing his name. This guy’s an alcoholic, a pot head, and since Mom died, he could care less about what’s going on in my life. Yet, I’m the disgrace. Can you believe that? What a waste.”
“Yeah, well, fathers expect you to do exactly what they say, no questions asked,” I say. “Even if they’re dead wrong and they know you’re right.”
“You guys are killing my high,” Miranda says. “So your fathers are assholes. So was mine. Just remember, someone always has it worse.”
“You’re right,” I say. “I have a hard time remembering that sometimes.”
JP nods.
I sit, grab a fork and knife, and dig into the pizza.
“What are you doing?” Miranda says.
Her pizza’s folded and she’s holding it in the palm of her hand. I guess this is another silly Earth custom. Or maybe it's that humans are uncivilized. If I ate like that back home, I would have been slapped across the head by my etiquette teach
er. I think I have a dent back there—all the times I was reminded I was doing something wrong. I sure as hell don’t miss being proper.
I put the utensils down and follow Miranda’s primitive ways. Half the cheese slides off and lands on my dress. Figures.
Miranda snickers. “If it stains, you’ll have the perfect excuse to chuck it.”
“Don’t I wish.”
JP pops open my Pepsi and hands it to me. I take a sip. A sweet, bubbly explosion fills my mouth. Yum.
“Don’t worry,” Miranda says. “I’ll have you looking like a New Yorker in no time with my magical touch.”
“What’s with all this magic talk?”
Miranda glances over at JP. He gives her a wary look and shrugs his shoulders.
They’re hiding something. “Look, we just met, I get it. I just thought we were cool.”
Miranda picks at her slice. “I don’t want you to think we’re cray cray or anything.”
Cray what? Forget it, don’t go there. I chug more soda.
“You know what? Who cares if you think we’re crazy,” Miranda says. “We’re brujas. Witches.”
The soda goes down the wrong pipe. I break into a coughing fit.
“You okay?” JP asks.
I’m more than okay. This is the best news ever. Some Earth witches are strong. Could they help me get back home? “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. You’re what?”
“Witches. My grandmother was a bruja,” Miranda says. “She taught me everything. Especially after my dad, biggest loser ever, walked out on us. Mom wasn’t around much since she worked two jobs. The lessons stopped when she died since my mom’s magic-less.”
“And you, JP?”
“My mom’s family is big into Voodoo. My mom had a musical gift. She could heal or cause pain through music. She left her family when she met my dad in the French Quarter and moved here. She trained me up until she died. We ran into this fortune teller a while back who’s helping us understand our powers even more.”
“A fortune teller? Aren’t those people hacks?”
“Not Sarka,” Miranda says. “She knew every detail of how my dad used to beat on my mom.”
