Spell Check: Book 1 (Teen Wytche Saga)

by Ariella Moon

“Parvani…” Zhù reached out, but she shrugged him off. Bent beneath the weighty magical objects, she speed-walked to the Lexus. She climbed into the cream-colored interior, closed the door, and didn’t look back.

  Behind me, the cracked entry tile made a wretched scraping sound. “Did I, like, miss something?”

  I shook my head and breathed in the lingering odor of incense. Realization sucker-punched me. Buddha. Parvani had her god figure. If she got her hands on a goddess, a wand, and a pentacle, she could perform the spell. She’d be unstoppable.

  Jordan stood so close behind me I could feel the heat radiating from his body. I inhaled his outdoorsy scent, longing to wrap my arms around him and keep him from slipping away again.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Dad had told me about men and women he’d seen in war—normal, decent human beings who’d cracked under the pressure. Like soldiers on recon that stayed too long in a window, when they should have ducked. He told me how being under fire changes you, erodes your soul.

  I wondered about Parvani’s pressure to get straight A’s. All the activities designed to help her either get into a top college or forget about ballet. And there was Jordan, seemingly filled with ease, a commodity Parvani desperately needed and longed for.

  Zhù drove off with his dad. Jordan headed for the kitchen. I hung back, my mind on Parvani. We’re best friends. She should know I’d never steal from her, even if I did think she was trying to take Jordan from me.

  “Can I have a brownie?” Jordan called out.

  “Sure.” I hustled after him. Forget sneaking makeup. I should just walk around with a plate of chocolate.

  Baby trotted ahead of me and made a beeline for the floor beneath the kitchen table. Snuffling like a pig hunting truffles, she tracked down a couple of popcorn kernels. Jordan glanced at the table littered with Spanish worksheets and notes. He blinked a couple of times, taking in the incriminating popcorn bowl and the two water glasses.

  “Are you and Zhù study partners?” He sounded surprised, and kind of hurt.

  This is why I hate to lie. One always leads to another.

  I handed Jordan a brownie. “I was working on Spanish when Zhù stopped by to go over some stuff for Yearbook. Our first set of pages is due on Wednesday.”

  “Oh.” Jordan sounded relieved. “Which reminds me.” He polished off the brownie in two giant bites then slid his backpack off his shoulder and unzipped it. He pulled out a folder marked Biology. He had drawn a skateboarder flying over the L. “We have a lab report due on Monday.”

  I groaned.

  “The good news is you missed yesterday’s quiz.”

  “Which I’ll have to make up at lunch on Monday, along with the quiz I missed in math.” Don’t my teachers realize I have karmic issues to deal with?

  “Don’t worry. I’ll help you. There’s no football practice tomorrow, so I’ll come over after I take Grandpa to the VFW breakfast.”

  The knot of fear in my stomach loosened several notches. I poured him a glass of milk. “Awesome. Thanks.”

  He handed me a worksheet. “Here’s our next assignment. We’re supposed to create a population growth model and predict the outcome.”

  I predict Parvani will do the love spell and ruin all our lives.

  Jordan downed half the milk. “Are you, like, burned out? We can wait until tomorrow.”

  “No, let’s get it over with. Just give me a sec to clean up.” I stacked the Spanish stuff together and moved it to the desk, and then cleared away the popcorn bowl and Zhù’s glass. I unearthed my Bio book, which weighed over five pounds, and thudded it onto the table.

  “Okay, I’m ready.” I sat down and reached for my water. “What do we need to do?”

  “Make lots of babies.”

  I had just taken a sip of water and nearly spit on him, covering my mouth just in time. Liquid dripped down my chin as a blush flamed my cheeks.

  Jordan laughed. “Got you.”

  I grabbed a napkin to sop up the mess then threw it at him. Jordan deflected the wet missile with a well-timed swat. Athletes. Still, it was nice to see him smile.

  “Rabbit babies,” Jordan explained, his lake-blue eyes twinkling. “It seems”—he studied the worksheet for a moment—“two rabbits got swept out to sea, but managed to scramble up onto a piece of driftwood. It carried them to an island.”

  “I suppose we’re talking about a female and a male rabbit?”

  “You know, it doesn’t say,” Jordan replied.

  “Well, it says they mated and started reproducing, so let’s assume Max and Charlotte were of the correct genders.”

  “Max and Charlotte?”

  “Charlotte is not the type of girl to mate with just anyone. She and Max had been dating for years before the storm caught them.”

  Jordan just stared at me for a second, then his lips lifted into a sly grin. “Max and Charlotte declared themselves captains of their driftwood boat and married each other before landing on the island.”

  “Good thing.” I imagined writing Mr. and Mrs. Kent around the holes in my binder paper. “Otherwise, they would have had to practice abstinence when they got to the island.”

  “Causing us to flunk this assignment.”

  “We wouldn’t want that,” I said.

  “No.”

  I was so not thinking about Biology anymore. Well, not rabbit biology.

  “Max and Charlotte had plenty of food and no predators on the island.” Jordan brought me back to reality. “So what type of growth would we expect?”

  I remembered this part. “Exponential growth.”

  Jordan’s pencil scratched across the worksheet as he wrote down my answer. “And what equation describes this growth?”

  I knew he knew the answer. The question was, did I? “G=rN?”

  Jordan beamed. “See, you know this stuff.”

  I wanted to take our picture, freeze the moment. But I noticed the next part of the project involved calculating and graphing. Time to stall. “What do you think about Parvani?”

  Jordan shrugged. “I dunno. She’s nice, I guess. I, like, feel sorry for her.”

  “She’s one of the richest kids at school. Why do you feel sorry for her?”

  Jordan placed his pencil on top of the worksheet and stretched. “One time, in English, we had to read aloud from our journal. Parvani had written about how she used to get up at five in the morning to take ballet lessons. Then after school, she rehearsed for another hour.”

  I nodded.

  “Can you believe it?” Jordan said. “Even though she was kind of young, her teachers, like, decided she could go en pointe.”

  “I’ve seen her old toe shoes.”

  “Then one day, like, wham! A stress fracture.”

  “I know. She tried to hide it, which made things worse, and now she can’t dance anymore.”

  “It made me think,” Jordan continued. “What if something similar happened to me and I had to bail on skateboarding?”

  “I bet your parents would enroll you in a bunch of other stuff to keep your mind off what you had lost.”

  “As if I could forget. In a way, you’re luckier than Parvani. At least there’s a chance you’ll be able to take photos again.”

  What if Parvani thinks I should just snap out of it? Maybe she thinks I’m the one who has everything—including both of the guys she likes, and the ability to pursue my passion.

  “Ready to calculate the approximate growth in Charlotte and Max’s brood?” Jordan asked.

  I wasn’t sure about calculating the intrinsic rate of increase for rabbits. But I had a pretty clear hypothesis about my chances of stopping Parvani from casting the love spell.

  Zero.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  After Jordan left, Mom and I made tacos. Mom must have seen the frantic, distracted look in my eyes, because for once she didn’t make me do the dishes. Maybe I had reaped good karma for helping her with the greeting cards.

  Free from indenture
d servitude, I rushed to my room and searched for Parvani’s list of things we needed for a circle. I had just discovered it under my bed when the phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi Evie, it’s Sarah.”

  “Where are you?” I shivered. Mom hadn’t kicked on the heater yet. “You sound far away.”

  “Massachusetts. I’m on my cell. We left in a hurry, and I forgot my charger. So we’ll have to talk fast before I run out of battery.”

  “Why are you in Massachusetts?”

  “My sister had a breakdown. My parents didn’t know who to leave me with, so we all flew out to check on Amy.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “No. Being perfect was harder on her than anyone realized. We brought Einstein. Pets are good therapy.”

  “If your parents need to stay there, we’ll take you in. Mom won’t mind.”

  “Gee, thanks. I’ll tell my parents. What’s happening with you and Parvani?”

  “She’s furious with me and I’m worried she’ll perform the spell.” I recited the abridged version, leaving out the part about tutoring Zhù.

  “We have one hope,” Salem declared. “You said Parvani is thorough, right?”

  “True.”

  “Then she’ll read the warnings, and she won’t direct the spell at Jordan.”

  “What if she doesn’t read any further than the optimal time frame? The full moon is tonight.”

  “Then we might have a problem. Does she have everything she needs to cast a circle?”

  I scanned the list. My heart sprinted. “I’m wearing your necklace. She doesn’t have a pentacle.”

  “Maybe she won’t realize she can just draw one.”

  “She doesn’t have a goddess figure.”

  “I bet there’s a silver candlestick somewhere in her mansion.”

  “Will that work?” I asked.

  “Sure, as long as she puts a white candle in it.”

  “Her parents throw lots of parties. They have tons of white candles.” A new thought hit me. “Parvani’s parents are out of town. The housekeeper will be in charge, and she’ll have her hands full with the twins.”

  “You’re doomed.” The dying battery garbled the rest of her words.

  “Is there a counter spell?” I shouted over the static.

  Salem’s voice cut off.

  Frantic, I dialed Parvani’s number. No answer. She’d probably checked the caller ID and refused to pick up. Now what? Should I ask Mom to drive me over there and help me storm Parvani’s gate?

  I went to the living room and slipped out the sliding glass door. A crisp wind sluiced through the birch trees and the Japanese maple, ringing a dragon-shaped metal wind chime. I hugged my arms to my torso and walked to the edge of the concrete patio. A bat swooped near my head, then flew off.

  A fine mist dampened my cheeks as I scanned the night sky. The moon, half hidden by the clouds, appeared full, potent, and ripe for fueling a love spell. It would make a great photo if I used Dad’s old Nikon with the right lens.

  An owl hoo-hooed from the trees, and something small and quick rustled through the ivy. Spooked, I hurried back indoors. I tried Parvani’s number again. This time when she didn’t answer, I pictured her highlighting, or gathering magical objects. Or worse, spell casting.

  Chilled, I slipped my hands into my sweatshirt pocket. My fingers bumped against Zhù’s flash drive. I headed for the computer, determined to control what I could, or at least to take my mind off Parvani for a while.

  Mom believed computers should be in public areas so she could snoop over my shoulder. You know, in case I underwent a personality change and started surfing porn sites or taking up with predators disguised as wannabe friends. Like I’m naive enough to put private information or my picture on a social network site, or leave my page set to public.

  One computer was in the studio, the other on the desk in the kitchen. I decided to head for the latter.

  Mom peeled off yellow dishwashing gloves. “Hey, sweetie. What’cha up to?”

  I pressed the power button on the computer. The start-up chord sounded and the monitor went sky blue. “Zhù brought over the edits he did for Yearbook. I thought I’d check them out before bed.”

  “He seems like a good kid.” Mom picked up a dishtowel and started to dry the dishes. The frying pan clattered as she put it away. She moved on to the glass brownie pan.

  I switched into photo editor mode. Rows of photos the size of postage stamps appeared on the computer screen. The shots I had taken of the drama club drew my attention. I clicked on a close-up of Pilar and Nazario.

  “Wow,” Mom said over my shoulder.

  “I took it at the dress rehearsal for Of Mice and Men.”

  “You took the picture?”

  “Yep. The same day I broke Evan’s foot.” I lifted Dad’s cap and pushed my fingers through my hair. “Zhù did a good job cropping it.”

  Mom squeezed my shoulders. “He had a great photo to work with.” She dragged a chair to the desk and plopped down beside me. We examined the series I had taken. “Incredible,” Mom said. “Are there more?”

  “There should be. Hang on.” I clicked on the blue side bar and slid to the top of the page. I didn’t recognize the first row of pictures.

  “Are those from school?” Mom asked.

  “I don’t think so. It doesn’t look like the auditorium.” I clicked on the first photo and enlarged it. A shot popped up of dancers in leotards.

  Mom leaned forward. “It looks like a ballet rehearsal.” She skimmed her finger above the surface of the monitor, reading the dancers faces as if they were dots of Braille. She paused. “Is that Zhù?”

  I removed Dad’s cap and studied the photo. Same short ebony hair, rimless glasses, sculpted cheekbones, familiar humorless concentration, and—whoa. A skin-tight, sleeveless tee and impressive biceps? My gaze dropped to navy running shorts, muscular legs, and ballet shoes.

  Crap. Zhù’s gay.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  My brain felt microwaved. Zhù had been my last hope. I had no Plan B.

  The tacos churned inside my stomach. I grasped for a logical explanation. “Maybe Zhù took up ballet to impress Parvani?”

  “I doubt it.” Mom swiped the drying cloth across the plastic tongs we had used to flip the tortillas. “Ballet takes real dedication. Think of how many hours you have to practice. You don’t do it for someone else.”

  “Yeah. Especially knowing what homophobic jerks like the Smash Heads would do if they found out.”

  “Being a dancer doesn’t mean for certain he’s gay. You said he has a crush on Parvani.”

  “He sure acts likes he does.”

  My gay radar, or gaydar as Parvani calls it, wavered. I had always thought of Zhù as kind of a brainy goof. A heterosexual brainy goof. Had I been wrong all these years? I studied the picture again and sighed. Guys just don’t look straight in ballet shoes. Then again, how many straight guys get highlights?

  Mom pointed to a familiar looking girl in the ensemble. “There’s Zhù’s sister, Ming. When I ran into Mrs. Wong at the grocery store last week, she mentioned Ming had won a role in the Nutcracker. Maybe Zhù did too.”

  “Then he must be good.” Parvani would be impressed. Zhù should tell her. Maybe it would stop Parvani from ensnaring Jordan with a love spell.

  I resolved to speed up Operation Get-Zhù-To-Sweep-Parvani-Off-Her-Feet. The plan might need to be tweaked. First, I’d have to convince Zhù to tell Parvani he had a major crush on her, or that he shared her passion for ballet. Or both.

  The scheme might work, if Parvani hasn’t already cast the spell.

  ****

  By Sunday afternoon, I had transferred the yearbook photos onto a new flash drive and stashed it in my backpack. I kept checking the time. How late could the VFW breakfast last, anyway?

  When Jordan didn’t show by two-thirty, I worried something had happened. By three, I paced my room, convinced he had stood me up. He’d proba
bly gone skateboarding.

  I tamped down the rising tsunami of old hurt and pulled out Jordan’s notes. It would have been nice to have him or Parvani to walk me through them, but no way would I call either of them. I was on my own.

  Again.

  Afterward, I ran through my mental worry list. Yearbook—done. Math—done enough. Parvani—who knew? What else? Oh yeah, Tommy Deitch.

  Surely the Smash Heads’ honor code required retaliation if one member got hurt and/or suspended. I did not want to be on Tommy’s Kids-to-Demolish list. During the switch between classes, I could hide in the center of the throng. I’m average height. Only one thing would make me stand out—the camouflage hat.

  I removed Dad’s cap and ran my thumb over the stiff visor. Feeling like a traitor, or at least a coward, I unzipped my backpack and stuffed the cap in next to my Bio binder. With or without the hat, though, I’d be vulnerable crossing the wide-open field. And what about Capture the Flag?

  I poked at the pile of clothes that had hidden Teen Wytche. Maybe the book contained a protection spell. Too bad I couldn’t call Parvani and ask her to look it up. If Salem were around, she’d help. I decided to wing it. After all, the last spell I’d done had worked out pretty well.

  Since Parvani had confiscated all the circle stuff, I improvised. Luckily, I still had my compass, which I placed in the middle of the floor. Remembering the quarters represented the four elements as well as the four directions, I began to search. A potted African violet from the bathroom would do for earth. A speckled shell that had been gathering dust on my windowsill for three years could represent water. A tea light for fire was a no-brainer. Air had me stumped. A feather?

  Baby cocked her head toward the backyard. The dragon wind chime Dad had bought clanged in the wind. He used to say the metallic ring reminded him of our favorite kung fu movies. I ran out back and lifted the chime off its hook.

  Back in my room, I added the troll and the tiara, and figured I was good to go. Now I just had to come up with a spell. Sinking into the beanbag chair, I closed my eyes. A line from the inner goddess article floated into my mind.