“Are we having company?” Olivia asked.
“Some old friends of mine,” said Tilda. “They’ll probably bore you to death. You can stay in your room and watch TV if you want.”
Olivia’s feeling were a little hurt. Didn’t Tilda want her friends to see what her niece looked like? Olivia was certainly curious about them.
“Did you and Eva have a little chat?” asked Tilda.
More than a chat, Olivia thought, but she didn’t feel like talking about that now.
“Doesn’t look her age, does she?” asked Tilda.
“I don’t know,” answered Olivia. “How old is she?”
Tilda shook her head as if she were annoyed at herself for mentioning it. “Old enough,” she said. “None of us are getting any younger. Did you have some of her tea?”
“Yes.”
“It’s very relaxing. Why don’t you go upstairs and rest? I’ll bring you something to eat later.”
Olivia would normally have resisted, but the thought of the comfortable feather bed was enough to make her agree. When she reached her bedroom, she looked around to make sure Julius wasn’t in sight, then shut the door firmly and locked it.
She kicked off her shoes and lay down on the bed. It was wonderfully soft, better than ever. There were so many things to think about, but the last image in her mind before she fell asleep was Alex. She tried to hear what he was saying....
Olivia opened her eyes. It was pitch dark. How long had she slept? Not long enough, because she was still tired. She realized she hadn’t changed out of her clothes, but didn’t feel like getting up to do it.
Had she eaten dinner? She didn’t think so, but she wasn’t hungry. Why hadn’t Aunt Tilda—
She heard a sound. That was what had awakened her. Singing. Not like regular music, though. Sort of like... church music, only different. It was a bunch of people, and their voices weren’t the greatest, but they kept together. A birthday party? No, the sound rose and fell as if... as if it were leading somewhere.
And it wasn’t far away. Slowly, Olivia forced herself to get up. Her body was telling her to forget it, to relax, to lie back down on that wonderful bed.
No, she told herself. I want to see. She got to her feet and felt dizzy for a second, but then steadied herself and went to the window. The curtains had been pulled shut. She couldn’t remember doing that, but who else would have?
She pulled one of the curtains aside and looked down into Aunt Tilda’s backyard, with its garden and terrace. There were lots and lots of candles burning down there, and Olivia could see a group of people forming a circle, holding hands as they sang.
She blinked. None of them were wearing clothes. You couldn’t see very much from up here, but enough to tell they were naked, even with only the candlelight to see by. There was Aunt Tilda, no mistake about that. And several of the other singers were men. Eww.
Not that any of them had a body you’d want to look at. But no one seemed to have a weird attitude about it. When Olivia had been twelve, her mother had let her have a playdate with a boy named Harry Franks. His father was a big studio executive and Mother wanted to land a role in one of his pictures. Harry, also twelve or maybe a little older, had suggested that Olivia take off her clothes. “I’ll do it too,” he said.
She had known that was weird, and didn’t do it. She made sure she spent the rest of the afternoon near one of the household staff. When Mother didn’t get the role, Olivia secretly felt it had been her fault, but she never told anybody about it.
This wasn’t that kind of naked. The funny thing about what was going on in the backyard was that nobody seemed to pay attention to the fact that they were naked. It was as if they’d just forgotten to get dressed and decided to make the best of it. The important thing, to them, was something else. Singing? Olivia couldn’t make out the words.
Olivia realized that she had leaned forward so far that her forehead rested against the window glass. She closed her eyes, even though she wanted to keep watching. There wasn’t really anything to see. She went back to bed and pulled the quilt over her ears so she couldn’t hear the singing. She decided that the whole thing was weird after all.
When the morning sunlight came through the window, Olivia was glad to find that she wasn’t tired any more. She stripped off yesterday’s clothes and got into the shower, letting the water get really hot. Standing there, she remembered Eva’s apartment and the glass ball and... the tea.
Was that why she’d slept so long? The tea. It must have been, but why would—? She froze as she understood what had happened. Aunt Tilda had sent Olivia down the street to get drugged up so she wouldn’t be awake for the little sex party that was scheduled.
She just stood there for a few seconds, feeling totally betrayed. But what could she do? Her parents were somewhere in the Egyptian desert, and even if she could reach them, what were they going to say if Olivia just announced she’d rather go skiing after all? As far as they were concerned, she was now in the care of an adult. Aunt Tilda. The drug dealer and sex maniac.
Calm down, Olivia told herself. If she was thinking all this when she went downstairs, Tilda would know because she could read Olivia’s mind. So could Eva. In fact, they might be reading her mind right now. The thought chilled her and she turned the hot water on higher.
How did they do that? She tried to remember what Eva had said. Pay attention. Yeah, right. Nothing to it.
Okay, so the thing to do was to think about something else whenever she was around Aunt Tilda. That might be hard, but Olivia had to give it a try.
She dried off, found some fresh clothes, and decided that the best thing to occupy her mind was... Alex. Before she left the bedroom, she took a long look at the poster of Matthew McConaughey. With a mental apology to Matthew for her unfaithfulness, she substituted Alex’s face for his. In her mind.
Hold that thought, Olivia told herself.
“Good morning, Olivia,” said Aunt Tilda. “How are you feeling?”
After being drug—Alex Alex Alex Alex. “All right.” Alex.
“You were sleeping so soundly that I didn’t try to wake you for dinner. You must be starving.”
That shouldn’t surprise you. Alex Alex Alex Alex.
Aunt Tilda gave her a funny look. “Would you like me to make a three-egg omelet this morning?”
Alex Alex Alex. “Sure, that’d be okay.”
Aunt Tilda set to work breaking the eggs and blending in three tablespoons of water. “Did you meet anyone at school yesterday?”
Alex Alex. “Sort of.” Alex.
With a clang, Tilda brought the skillet down from its hook on the wall. She put a lump of butter in it. “Is he nice?”
Alex Alex Alex. “Who?”
“The boy you met.”
“Did I say it was a boy?” Alex Alex.
More clanging as Tilda shook the skillet, maybe a little harder than she usually did.
“Well,” said Tilda as she slid the omelet onto a plate, “Is he a boy?”
Alex Alex Alex. “You don’t have to worry. He doesn’t know I exist.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Let’s not talk about it, okay?” Alex Alex Alex.
“Whatever you like, Olivia. Maybe you had too much sleep.”
And whose fault—Alex Alex Alex ALEX.
They didn’t say too much more to each other as Olivia ate breakfast. Then, thankfully, the phone rang. It was René calling on his cell to say he was outside. Olivia grabbed her backpack and was out the door without saying good-bye. She knew that was rude, but she was exhausted from trying to concentrate on Alex. He was incredibly gorgeous, but his personality seemed—so far—nonexistent. In California, when Olivia would daydream about stars like Matthew McConaughey, she would just drift in and out of the moment, feeling snug and safe and warm. But forcing herself to think about nothing but Alex was a little like trying to eat too much whipped cream.
She hoped René didn’t read minds, because she wanted
to think seriously about what had been going on. Of course the first thing that came into her mind was the circle of people singing in Aunt Tilda’s backyard. Naked. The image of Aunt Tilda, naked, wasn’t the best way to start the day. And the rest of them... just a lot of stuff bouncing around that nobody could want to look at. Would they? But if the point of it wasn’t sex, then what else would you concentrate on if everybody was naked? Maybe they were all drunk? Except... when Olivia’s parents got drunk, they turned vicious and fought with each other. They sure didn’t sing. If only.
And then... now Olivia really had to concentrate, because the whole business about seeing Alex in a glass ball was kind of hazy. It was if she was scared to think about it. She remembered seeing this cloudy stuff, like smoke, and then all of a sudden there he was. It really was him. But wait. The tea. Of course. Who knew what was in that stuff? It made her sleep like fourteen hours, so probably it gave her hallucinations, like LSD or something.
“Did you learn a lot yesterday?” René said over his shoulder.
More than I wanted to, thought Olivia. But at least she felt a little better now that she’d figured it out. She just had to be very careful about what she drank and ate from now on. Would LSD really make me go crazy? Who would tell me if I did?
At school, she was thankful not to run into anybody she knew. She actually made her way to her locker without the help of a personal assistant and then found the paper on which she’d written the combination of the lock. She felt a small sense of accomplishment when it opened on the first try. Okay, she thought. I need social studies, math, and English books. Check. Leave backpack here. Check. Close door and lock. See, I can do it.
She turned and bumped into somebody who was standing too close to her. Taking a step back, she saw who it was and said, “Aaaaaa.” She couldn’t help herself.
It was Alex.
“Hi,” he said, smiling. He had a great smile. She knew he would.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered, looking around to see if anybody was watching. For a second she thought she might be imagining this, but no, he’d been solid when she bumped into him.
“I thought I’d show you where the classes are,” he said. Big smile, looking goofy now.
“Stop smiling,” she told him.
He obeyed immediately, looking worried. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked.
“No, but I know where the classes are. I was here yesterday, remember?”
“Sure I do.” He stepped closer. Too close. She stepped back. “You’re Livia,” he said.
“Not Livia,” she corrected. “O-livia. Livia is a character from some Roman TV series.” Her mother had the whole series on DVD and loved it for some reason. Maybe because the family in it was always arguing.
“O-livia,” he repeated carefully. “I’m Alex.”
“Yes, I know.” Wolverine.
“We could sit next to each other.” He took her hand before she could stop him. He had a big hand. Strong. He could probably crush hers as if it were a bird. It gave her a warm feeling to have him hold it. He turned and led her down the corridor and she hurried to keep from being dragged. Maybe I’m going crazy after all, she thought.
That was pretty much the general reaction when they entered Mr. Feldstein’s classroom, still clutching hands. People in the front rows gaped at them. Paul was the first to recover, and he gave her a wink and the okay sign. Dulcimer, naturally, stuck out her tongue. But the best reaction, as far as Olivia was concerned, was Madison’s. She gave them a look that, if the spirit behind it had been more powerful, could have killed.
Alex found two empty desks together in the back row. He shoved his close enough to Olivia’s so they were practically sitting on each other’s laps. Apparently it was Alex’s idea that they would keep their hands together for the rest of the day, but hers was getting sweaty, so she pulled free. Then she realized that everybody else had turned to watch them.
Mr. Feldstein entered the room, dressed in stockings under knee-length shorts, a long red brocade jacket trimmed with fur, and a hat that looked like a sailor cap, only it was black and silver. He also wore several big rings on both hands. The spectacle at least partially drew the class’s attention away from Alex and Olivia.
“Who knows who I am?” asked Mr. Feldstein.
If anybody had a clue, they were keeping it a secret. Maybe he’s a tennis player from the Middle Ages, thought Olivia.
“Here’s a hint,” said Mr. Feldstein. He pulled a sheet of pictures from a folder and held it up. It had six women’s faces on it. “These are my wives.”
“He must be a Mormon,” somebody said, but others disagreed. Paul raised his hand and Mr. Feldstein nodded in his direction.
“Henry the Eighth,” Paul announced. Oh, right, Olivia thought. There had been a TV series about him. If she’d watched more TV, she’d be more equipped to “achieve the Knickerbocker’s standards,” as the snotty assistant in the main office had said.
“Now, does anybody know why he had so many wives?” asked Mr. Feldstein.
Alex reached over and took Olivia’s hand again. She decided she wouldn’t make a scene about it. Then he leaned closer and whispered in her ear, “Because he liked sex.” Despite herself, Olivia giggled.
This unfortunately caught Mr. Feldstein’s attention, even though they were sitting in the last row. “Yes, Alex?” he called. “You had an idea?”
Just shut up, thought Olivia desperately, giving Alex a meaningful look.
His skull must have been made of steel, however—impervious to all outside thought waves. “I said because he liked sex!” he announced, clearly proud of his clever deduction.
The class roared, most of them turning to look at Olivia, who had actually inspired Alex to think—about sex.
When things quieted down, Mr. Feldstein said, “You’re absolutely correct, Alex. He did like sex.”
Alex beamed and looked over at Olivia proudly, as if he had discovered sex.
“But Henry was the king of England. He could get plenty of sex without marrying six times,” said Mr. Feldstein. “What was another thing that he wanted his wife to give him?”
Several people glanced over their shoulders, and then whispered to each other, obviously comparing Alex and Olivia to Henry and his wives. Can we just get off this subject? Olivia thought.
It turned out that the other thing Henry wanted was a son. He had two daughters, but they weren’t good enough for him, sexist pig. So because of that he kept divorcing or executing one wife after another. Olivia looked at the picture of the actual Henry VIII in the social studies book and decided he was gross and ugly. There were some things you wouldn’t want to do with him, even if he was a king. Especially marry him. Or have... eww.
They moved on to math class, with Alex still leading Olivia as if she needed a seeing-eye dog. Fortunately, Mr. Haber didn’t ask many questions in class, and certainly nothing relating to sex. He just wrote equations and symbols on the board, being careful not to completely turn his back. Those students who cared, took notes. The rest checked their cell phones or texted each other. Alex held Olivia’s hand and stared at her. Constantly.
It was halfway through Mr. Haber’s class that Olivia realized what had happened. She sat up and gave Alex a startled look. He raised his eyebrows and smiled, evidently assuming she had just discovered his charms.
Alex hadn’t all of a sudden woken up and decided she was the most desirable girl in the universe. (Obviously, she wasn’t.) This all had something to do with the crystal ball! Olivia racked her brain, trying to remember what Eva had said. Olivia had asked her if Alex would remember Olivia saying hello to him—or anyway, to the little Alex inside the ball. And Eva had said... what? “Not in the way you mean.”
Was it possible? No! But then what other explanation could there be for Alex suddenly discovering girls—and Olivia, of all girls? Did boys reach puberty that quickly? Overnight?
She stared at him again, but he took it as encourageme
nt, and now he began to stroke her hand. She pulled it away, and wrote on a sheet of paper: What’s your cell number?
He wrote it down and passed the paper back. She took out her cell and dialed. Fortunately, his was on vibrate and it didn’t ring. He took it out and she texted him:
WHAT DID U DO YESTERDAY AFTER SCHOOL
It took him longer than she expected to read this, and then he leaned over and said, “We can just talk. Mr. Haber won’t care.”
Olivia shook her head firmly and texted again:
I DONT WANT ANYONE TO HEAR
Alex looked uncomfortable, but tried. She could see he wasn’t used to texting. Then her screen showed:
I WENT HOAM
She typed back:
WHAT ELSE
She could see him strain for an answer. Clearly, thinking of sex had exhausted his supply of brain cells for the day. Finally:
RED MY BUKS
Books?
Alex could see by the expression on Olivia’s face that she didn’t understand, so he added:
XMEN
Oh, X-Men. Comic books. Fine. Olivia recalled that he was reading in the glass ball when she saw him and said hello. So she texted:
DID ANYTHING STRANGE HAPPEN
After reading this, Alex looked at her and nodded vigorously. Olivia was excited. Obviously whatever happened had made an impression on him. TELL ME, she typed. Then he sent back:
WOLVRINE WAS CAPTURD BY MAGNETO
Riiight. Okay, she wasn’t going to find out anything from texting. But Alex was getting fond of it, because he sent another:
I NO WHAT UR THINKIN
Well, why not? Olivia thought. Everybody else does. She shot back:
WHAT
He responded:
THAT HAPEND A LONG TIME AGO
She shrugged. Technically, it happened in a comic book. But then Alex explained:
I HAVE NEERLY AL THE X-MEN BUKS
Olivia nodded slightly. He would, no doubt. But when Alex saw she didn’t get what he meant, he added:
SUMTIMS I REED THE OLD WUNS
Olivia turned off her cellphone and pressed it against her forehead. Going crazy was worse than she expected. Particularly when you’re aware of it.
Be Careful What You Witch For Page 6
