by Amelia Blake
“Well, not exactly. I was kind of reading all night.” I really hate that I have to lie—again—but there’s simply no way around it. I can’t tell my mom I was up all night searching for information on how to make a witchlight. And, technically, I’m not lying. I really was reading, just not a novel, which is what my mom automatically assumes. I should probably ask Azzie what hell looks like, because I am definitely going to spend an eternity there.
“Oh, Emmy.” Mom sighs. I really hate those sighs. “You and your books.” Another sigh. “When your father gets home, we’ll talk about it and come up with a punishment for you.”
“What do you mean, punishment? I already got detention. Isn’t that punishment enough?”
“Emmy, don’t get upset.”
“Get upset? I’m not upset. Why would I be upset? It’s not like I’m the one who always gets punished or always gets the rough end of the stick. I had to grovel in front of you and Dad for weeks before you let me stay at Jessie’s house when her parents were out of town. And now Chloe wants to go to a party with no adult supervision and most certainly with booze, with a boy you’ve never met, who is two years older than her—yes, stop snickering—and you just let her go there without asking any questions.”
“Is Derek really two years older than you?” Mom asks Chloe.
“He’s in Logan’s class,” I answer for her. “He’s seventeen.”
“And don’t forget that you’re the one who arranged this to happen,” Chloe says nastily. “I mean, without you, he never would’ve asked me out.” Oh, I am so going to shave her head in her sleep.
“Is this true, Emmy? Did you arrange this somehow?” I want to crawl into the cupboard under the stairs and live with the spiders there.
“I just asked Logan to tell Derek that he should ask Chloe to go with him to the party, because otherwise she threatened to make my life a living hell. But I guess I shouldn’t have given in, because she will always find a way to make my life miserable no matter what I do.”
“Oh, please, like you have a life.”
“Girls, stop arguing. You’re giving me a headache.” Mom closes her eyes and starts rubbing her temples. Chloe and I shut up, at least we stop saying things out loud, but now we use our eyes to communicate how we feel about each other. “Both of you, go to your rooms and be quiet. And don’t come downstairs until I tell you to. Your father and I will discuss the situation and come up with—”
“But—” I start saying.
“—a punishment for both of you.”
“But—” Chloe starts saying.
“No buts. Upstairs. Both of you. Now.” Mom points toward the staircase. Chloe and I trudge up the stairs, giving each other dirty looks, and then slamming the doors into each other’s faces. Well, technically, into each other’s backs, but the intention is pretty clear.
“You guys are real loud,” Azzie says from my chair.
“Why aren’t you hiding? What if someone sees you? Do you want to be brought into some lab and poked and prodded and cut up without anesthesia? Because that can be arranged.”
“Hey, don’t snap at me. I’m not the one who can’t find harmony with her sister.”
“Harmony,” I huff, dropping my school bag on the floor and digging around in it for the photograph. I give a sigh of relief when I find it completely undamaged inside my history textbook. The history textbook, on the other hand, hasn’t been so lucky—half of the pages are soaked with rainwater. That’s not a bad omen or something, is it?
“Yes, harmony. Harmonious relationships with your siblings can come in handy in life.”
“Really? Why don’t you ask yours to help you out right now?” I open my closet and grab a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt to change into.
“Well, er.” Azzie scratches his head and rolls around in my chair. “I don’t really have the means to contact them right now. Without the witchlight, I pretty much can’t use any of my powers here.”
“Well, if that is the only problem, then I’m sure we can figure something out. I mean, it must be a lot easier to arrange for you to communicate with your family than it is to create this super-secret amulet that no one seems to know anything about.”
“Er, well, why don’t we try the witchlight route first?”
“Uh-huh. Just as I thought.” I head towards the bathroom to take a shower, but then remember there’s more. “Did you eat all the food from our fridge?”
“Yes, why?” He wiggles his huge feet a few inches above the floor.
“And the frozen chicken?”
“Delicious. I love something crunchy in the morning.”
“Um, okay. No, I mean, not okay. Gross, Azzie, really, really gross. We kind of have this rule about not eating raw meat in the house.”
“Do I have to take it out into the yard?” Is he mocking me or is he serious? I just can’t tell.
“Not unless you want someone to call a certain government agency to take you away and prod—”
“—and poke me. Right. Got it. But chicken isn’t meat, right?”
“Um, it kind of is.” Azzie raises his eyebrows. “I don’t know. Okay, no raw animal flesh while you’re staying here. If you want something crunchy, eat an apple.”
Azzie grimaces. “Ew, gross.”
“Okay, how about potato chips? I can get you some tomorrow.”
“That could work. And some cookie-dough ice cream.”
“We have some in the freezer.”
“Not anymore.” Azzie turns around in the chair to face my laptop. I don’t even want to know what he’s doing with it now. Apparently we are done with the conversation.
“Great. Now I don’t even have ice cream to help me forget about my problems,” I mumble to myself and shuffle into the bathroom.
“So your father and I have discussed the situation.” Mom plops spaghetti onto my plate.
“I think I should have a chance to—” Chloe starts saying over her mouthful of spaghetti, but Mom interrupts her.
“Your father and I have discussed the situation,” she says again, “and we have decided it’s time that we both took a more active approach to your upbringing.”
“What does that even mean?” Chloe rolls her eyes.
“Don’t interrupt, Chloe. As I was saying,” she continues, “we have decided to take a more active approach to your upbringing. We have been very lenient parents until now, and this approach worked well when you were younger, but it seems that it’s time for us to re-evaluate our involvement in your lives.”
This is so not happening. And what does that even mean, they were “lenient”? I couldn’t go to a sleepover at my best friend’s house without groveling in front of them and doing every single chore around the house for two weeks. How is that for lenient?
“We have decided that you can date Derek,” Mom says, looking at Chloe.
“What?” I ask. I can’t believe my own ears. When Mom started talking about being less lenient and getting more involved in our lives, for a moment there I thought it involved Chloe and her dating an older boy. But no, of course, not.
“Let me finish, Emily,” Mom says and then turns to Chloe. “Your father and I have decided that it’s all right for you to date this boy—”
“But—” I start saying.
“—as long as your sister is there to chaperone.”
“What?” Chloe practically roars. Her hair literally stands on end and that is not a pretty sight on her. But then the realization of what Mom just said hits me like a hammer on a toe and I am sure my hair stands on end the same way that Chloe’s does.
“What?” I yell. “Are you seriously saying that I have to chaperone her? No, no, and no!” I shake my head so hard I’m surprised my neck doesn’t snap.
“No way!” Chloe screams. “She can’t go anywhere near me or Derek. This is social suicide. And why do I have to get punished? Punish her.”
“Really? You don’t think that this would be punishment for me?” As if I’ve been dreamin
g about going on Chloe’s dates and observing how she flirts with a guy. Just thinking about it makes my stomach turn. “There’s no way you can make me do this. No freaking way!” I yell at Mom.
“Emmy, watch your language. And besides, that’s not all,” Mom says. Chloe and I both turn to look at our parents in disbelief.
“There’s more?” Chloe asks. Her voice is so chillingly calm it gives me goosebumps.
“Yes, there’s more. Emmy, your father and I are very worried that you spend more time reading books than, well, spending time with real people.”
“That’s not true. What about Jessie? I spend more time with Jessie than Chloe does with any of her friends.”
“First of all, we’re not talking about Chloe right now, we’re talking about you.” She holds up her hand to stop me from interrupting her. “And second of all, sitting together in your room and reading books or watching The Undead Chronicles all day long is not socializing.”
I could argue about that, but obviously no one cares about my opinion.
“This is why your father and I have decided to take away your books.”
My eyebrows rise into stratosphere and my eyeballs are about to pop out of their sockets.
“Don’t worry, you will get them back, but only after we see that you have a little more balance in your life.” Mom looks to Dad and he nods. Is there even more coming? “That’s why we think that it’s important that you socialize with someone other than your best friend. So if you want to get your books back, you will not only chaperone Chloe,”—Mom raises her hand to shut Chloe up—“but you will also start dating yourself. Books are great, but we want to see you date real boys, not just imaginary characters from books.”
I’m speechless. No, no, I’m not. “You do realize that all other parents in the world would prefer their sixteen-year-old daughter to read books rather than go on dates with real boys, right?” My parents are freaks.
“I don’t know what other parents would prefer, and to be honest, I don’t care. This is how it’s going to be from now on. If you want to go to the party this Friday,”—Mom looks at Chloe—“your sister will have to be there as well. And if you’re going there with a boy, your sister needs to have a date too.”
“No,” Chloe and I whisper together. This is so not happening.
“This applies to any other dates as well,” Mom goes on. “So, Chloe, if you want to go on a date with a boy, you will have to convince your sister to get a date, too. And if you want to get your books back, Emily, you will have to follow through with this. Of course, we can’t make you date anyone, but if you want your books back, I’m sure you’ll at least consider it as a possibility.”
“But can’t we at least talk about it?” I ask meekly.
“Your father and I have already talked about it and this is what we came up with,” Mom says. “Now finish your dinner. After you’re done, we’ll need to put all your books in the trunk of your dad’s car—he’ll take them to a storage facility tomorrow.”
“What? You’re taking them out of the house?”
“Yes, and we’ll need to limit your computer time as well. You can still use your laptop,” Mom says quickly when she sees my reaction, “but only for schoolwork and only in the living room or here”—she raps her fingers on the dining table—“while either your dad or I are supervising.”
“So, basically, your plan is to bore me to death until I do what you want me to do?”
“Basically,” Mom says. “Now finish your dinner. It will take us a while to move all those books from your room.”
Chapter Eleven
“No way!” Jessie exclaims the next morning when I tell her how my parents decided to ruin my life. “And I always thought your parents were okay. Wow. I did not see this coming.”
I sag against my locker. I so do not want to think about this anymore, and I so do not need this in my life right now. But I do want and need to talk about it.
“So,” Jessie shuts her locker and leans next to me, whispering conspiratorially, “have you decided who it’s going to be?”
“Seriously?” I look at her like she fell from the moon and landed on my front porch. “There’s no way I’m going to give in to those demands. It’s not fair. And stupid. And just plain mean.”
“I don’t know if it’s stupid or mean,” she says. I stare at her in disbelief. “Well, okay, it’s a little bit of both. But maybe you could still have some fun. You could ask Logan to be your date.”
“Are you kidding me? There’s no way I would ever go on a date with Logan.”
“Why not?” Jessie asks, sounding a little bit offended, as if I rejected her personally.
“I thought you hated him. Do you really want your best friend to go on a date with someone you hate?”
Jessie laughs. “Okay, you got me there. But it doesn’t matter what I think, or if I like the guy you go on a date with. It only matters if you like him. And you used to like Logan.”
“Um, when I was five and he could read books for me. Now I can read my own books. Only I don’t have them, but that is not the point here.”
“Holy crickets, is that why you started hanging out with him instead of me? Because he knew how to read? You know, I think your parents might be on point with their scheme, because you don’t seem to have any idea what guys are actually for.”
“Jessie!”
“What?”
“You’re not dating anyone,” I point out.
“Uh, but I know what boys are for. I live with one.”
“He’s your brother. You don’t know anything.”
“Yes, he’s my brother, but he’s dated half of the cheerleading squad and he’s making his way through the other half. I know very well what girls can use boys for.”
“Gross.”
“Yep, you definitely need to go on a date.”
“Not you too. I thought you were my friend.”
“I am your friend. That’s why, as your friend, I’m telling you to do what your mom says and ask someone out on a date. And the best someone is obviously Logan, because if he doesn’t want to go, I can pummel him on the head with something heavy until he does.”
“Because that would be so good for my self-esteem—going out with a guy who’s been beaten into submission by his little sister. Besides, isn’t he dating anyone right now?”
“Nope, he’s in that elusive in-between-girlfriends period that lasts about two days out of a year.”
“Forget it. It’s not happening.”
“I would really consider it if I were you, or Chloe will come up with something much, much worse,” Jessie taunts me.
I slide down my locker until I’m sitting on the floor in front of it. Jessie sits next to me. “But I don’t want to date anyone. I just want my books back.” I know Jessie is right. If I don’t make sure Chloe gets her date with Derek, I will miss the days when my biggest problem was missing my books. “There’s no way I could go on a date with Logan though. It would open such a huge can of worms.”
“What worms?” Jessie asks.
I give her a dubious look.
“Well, okay, maybe our moms will start planning your wedding, but other than that I’m sure you’ll be fine.” She grins at me. She’s having too much fun with this. “Okay, if Logan is out, what about Parker?”
“I’d rather die. I’d rather have my face chewed off by a rabid dog. I’d rather open up my chest cavity and rip my heart out with my bare hands. I’d rather—”
“Okay, okay, I get it. Parker’s out.” Jessie holds up her hands to stop me from listing all the painful ways I’d rather die than go on a date with him. “What other guys do we know that you can ask?” We stare in front of us for a very long time. “Okay, we don’t really talk to any other guys. But I’m sure we can figure something out.”
“What about you?” I ask.
“What about me?”
“I could ask you out,” I say.
“Uh, I’d be flattered, but you’re n
ot gay and neither am I.”
“But my parents don’t know that. I’ve never dated anyone and neither have you.”
“I think the ginormous poster of half-naked Warren over your bed might have outed you a long time ago.”
“It’s not ginormous.”
“It’s the size of your bed. That qualifies as ginormous. Besides, wouldn’t us going on a date open up the same can of worms that you going on a date with Logan would?”
I sigh. “You’re right. I’m totally screwed. I think I’m just going to wait and see what Chloe does next. Especially since this is not even my biggest problem right now.”
“Right, the horned one,” Jessie grins. My nickname for Azzie seems to be gaining traction.
“Yep, now that he doesn’t have access to my laptop anymore, you know what he decided to do for entertainment last night?”
“Let me guess.” Jessie grins. “He sorted your underwear?”
“Ha. I wish. He wrote The Undead Chronicles fanfiction.”
“You’re kidding.” Jessie giggles.
“I wish I was. And it wasn’t just pure TUC. It was about Gabe and one of the Victoria’s Secret models he likes stalking online. You know that blonde one, with an unpronounceable last name?”
Jessie nods.
“What happened to just writing regular fanfiction? Do you actually have to mix characters and real people now?”
“Well, he is a bit eccentric,” Jessie says. “Who knows what they do for fun where he is from.”
“I doubt it’s something this weird.” I check my phone to see what time it is and sigh. “I think we should go. I’d rather not be late to history class again.”
“Do you think Ciara could be hiding something?” Jessie asks as we pick up our school bags and start walking in the direction of our history class.
“Why do you say that? Has something happened?”
“Well, no, not really,” Jessie says, fumbling with a strand of hair that has escaped her ponytail. “Well, kind of. I tried to talk to her yesterday during class. You know, about what happened with Azzie. I offered to help her look through her mom’s books and notes to maybe find some reference to a witchlight, but she said that she had looked through all of them and didn’t find anything—which I find very hard to believe—and she’s been avoiding me ever since. She was the first out of class the moment the bell rang, and I think she wasn’t even at the cafeteria yesterday during lunch. It looks like she eats even more than you do, so the fact that she missed lunch is very suspicious. I think the only reason for it would be if she was trying to avoid us.”
