by Ariella Moon
“Evie?”
I opened one eye. “Zhù, what are you doing here? Don’t you have rehearsal?”
He gave me one of those lower-your-voice looks and glanced at Mr. Ross, who sat at his desk eating a turkey-and-cranberry sandwich.
“Mom is picking me up in five minutes. Parvani told me what happened in Gym the other day. You okay?”
I sat up. “Parvani is talking to you again?”
Zhù stared down at his feet. “Not exactly. She sent me a text message.”
“Still. It’s mondo progress.” Hope sparked like fireworks. “See, I told you she likes you.”
“So where is she?”
“Her mom said she wasn’t feeling well this morning.” I stifled a yawn. “You know what would cheer her up?”
“What?”
“Ask her to the Halloween dance.”
Zhù slid his thumbs under the straps of his backpack. “Yeah. Right.”
“I’m serious. Give her a call when you get home tonight.”
“I’ll think about it.” He glanced at the door. “I better split.”
“Okay. Later.”
Despite being on the outs with Jordan and Parvani, my optimism rallied. Then the bell rang, a death toll reminding me it was time for Algebra and the make up quiz. Time to plummet into Loserville.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The math classroom stank of damp wool. Several kids wore knitted caps, the kind from Peru that hide your hair and have two braided ties that hang down to your chest. Maybe at high altitude the alpacas, or llamas, or whatever the caps were made of, smelled okay in the rain. Not here.
My stomach grumbled from nerves and lack of food. I should have eaten my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, or at least a protein bar.
Before I could slink off to the back row, Mr. Bentley slammed a quiz down on a desk in the front. “Sit down and take this, O’Reilly, before class gets going.”
A flush burned my cheeks. “But…”
“Hurry up.”
I slid into the chair, despair settling like cement into every muscle and vein. When I leaned over to pull a pencil out of my backpack, the gash in the back of my head throbbed. I managed to write my name and the date in the right hand corner of the paper. I tried to recall the note Jordan had left explaining about graphs, but the information must have seeped out before Dr. Cameron stitched me up. It was gone. All gone.
I wanted to cry. I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t surreptitiously count on my fingers. Students walked past my desk, talking, distracting me. Chairs scraped. Books thudded open. Worse, the room quieted and I was sure all eyes were upon me.
I could already picture the scarlet F scrawled across the test. I had finished maybe half of the quiz when Mr. Bentley snapped his fingers in my face.
“Time’s up, O’Reilly. Hand it over.”
I hate math teachers.
When class ended, I blinked back tears and fled to Yearbook. Thirty-five of the first forty-one pages had already been set. Everyone huddled around me as I inserted the flash drive into the computer and brought up the photos Zhù had edited. Parvani’s fashion shot with the goth, the prep, and the pixie elicited lots of smiles. Good thing, since we were light on fashion photos.
When I clicked on my pictures of Nazario and Pilar, Mia squealed. “Awesome!”
Miss Roberts leaned forward. “Evie, did you take these?”
“Yeah.” Man, they were good. The loser slime from Algebra slid off me. I sat up straighter.
“Excellent,” Miss Roberts said. “Layout artists, get to it. You’ve got some great photos to work with. Copy editors, get writing. Forty minutes ‘til deadline.”
The time flew by in a happy rush. Afterward, walking to Biology, I wondered if Jordan would be there. I should have asked Zhù if he’d seen him in HG.
“There you are, Evie.” Mr. Esenberg seemed pleased to see me. “Feeling better?”
“A little.”
“Great.” He thrust a quiz in my hand. “Take this to the teacher’s lounge. I’ve arranged for a proctor to time you. You’ll have twenty minutes.”
“Okay.” At least I’d have quiet and some privacy. I glanced at Jordan’s empty chair. My worry meter pinged. If Jordan hadn’t shown up by the time I returned, I’d bury my pride and call him. What if something awful had happened?
What if Parvani screwed up the spell?
Halfway between the faculty restrooms and the cafeteria, I spotted a puke-green door marked Teacher’s Lounge. My heart beat a quick staccato. I was about to enter forbidden territory. Palms sweaty, I opened the door and crossed the threshold.
To my surprise, the place was empty. The room reeked of microwave sweet-and-sour chicken, reminding me I had skipped lunch. Two large windows let in plenty of light despite the overcast sky. An older model white refrigerator hummed next to a stainless steel counter. Dirty coffee mugs littered the sink. I guess teachers can’t afford take-out lattés.
Three round tables took up most of the space. I wondered if teachers sat in cliques, with the cool teachers at one table, the nerdy, by-the-book teachers at another, and the loners huddled off to the side with their laptops. Speaking of teachers, where was my proctor?
The door flew open behind me. A sour, evil smell scythed the air and a bone-chilling draft whooshed in. The quiz paper slipped from my hand and skidded under a nearby chair.
“Better pick it up, Miss O’Reilly. The clock is ticking. You have twenty minutes.”
Maybe it was my low blood sugar. Maybe it was six years of failure and humiliation in math. Maybe I was just having a bad week and Miss Ravenwood had once tried to steal Dad from Mom. Whatever the reason, I rebelled.
I picked up my quiz and took a seat. A venomous entity rose within me and gave Miss Ravenwood a basilisk death stare. She blinked in surprise, then sat down at another table. I stared at her for a few more heartbeats. She returned my stare with her watery blue eyes and fiddled with the cuffs of her gray silk blouse. Her long, black skirt was so turn of the century—the nineteenth century. She should hire Parvani to design some new clothes.
A long breath escaped my lips. Okay, Jordan. I pictured his smile, and thought about how much I loved his joy and athletic grace when he rode his board. I visualized the binder paper he had left for me on the coffee table. In my mind, I opened it and read his notes. Keys began to unlock. The questions on the quiz made sense.
Hope flushed the concrete from my muscles and veins.
****
“Time.” Miss Ravenwood rose from her chair, her back so straight I wondered if she had a broomstick for a spine. She thrust out her hand. Crumbs of dried wax had hardened beneath her fingernails.
Candle magic?
I handed over the quiz, praying Mom would forgive me for wrecking the family’s good name if I had blown it. Forcing my chin up and my shoulders back, I headed for the door. My hand touched the silver handle when a bony claw clasped my shoulder.
“You didn’t stop her.”
Chills zigzagged like lightning bolts down my spine. “Stop who?”
“Miss Hyde-Smith. I warned her not to fool with matters she knows nothing about.” Acid crept into Miss Ravenwood’s voice.
I wrenched free and faced her. A wispy lock of frizzy black hair had fallen across her cheek.
“You’d better check on your friend. I believe he is most unwell.” Miss Ravenwood’s long skirt swished as she swept past me. The door shut behind her with an ominous click.
I blinked at the puke-green portal. He. Miss Ravenwood had said, “I believe he is most unwell.”
Oh no. Jordan.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I ran across the wet field after class and threw myself into the front seat of the Volvo.
Mom lowered her romance novel. “Give me a heart attack, why don’t you?”
I drew air into my lungs. “Sorry. Can we stop by Jordan’s house on the way home?”
Mom crinkled her forehead. “Why? What’s up?”
Mom switched on the ignition. “Why do you think he’s in trouble?”
I wanted to say, “Because I think Parvani did a spell on him and something went wrong.” Or, “Miss Ravenwood might have put a hex on him to spite us.” Instead, I said, “Because he was supposed to come over on Sunday and he never showed. I think he’s been absent all week.”
She reached for her cell phone. “Maybe we should call him.”
“Please, Mom.” I yanked the scrunchie from my hair. “Can’t we go to his house?”
Mom sighed. “Okay.” She pulled out into traffic and did a U-turn at the next cross street. Jordan lived two blocks from Mr. Ross, in a tree-lined neighborhood not far from our old elementary school. When we reached his street, my heart revved like I’d been mainlining caffeine. Bright yellow leaves littered the lawn and the plywood skateboard ramp on the driveway. Mom parked next to the sidewalk, barely pulling to a stop before I jumped out.
“Be right back,” I called over my shoulder.
The engine cut. I sprinted to the maroon-painted front door. In case Jordan was sick and trying to sleep, I knocked instead of ringing the bell. Rocking on my heels, I inhaled the spicy scent of rain-bathed cypress.
As I debated whether to knock again or leave, faint footsteps sounded within the house. The door swung open, and I came face to face with Jordan. The smell of day-old perspiration assaulted my nose. Not regular boy sweat. Fever sweat.
“Evie? What are you doing here?” He made a weak attempt to finger-comb his tangled hair, then lowered his arm as if he hadn’t the strength to keep it aloft.
“Checking on you.” My gaze worried across his glassy eyes and gaunt, ashen face, then dropped to his white tee and navy flannel pants. “Did I wake you?”
A faint hint of color bloomed on his cheeks. “Nah. Parvani woke me when she called around noon.”
My brain stuttered. Parvani had called?
“I was worried when you didn’t show up on Sunday.”
“You didn’t call me,” he said.
“You stood me up. Shouldn’t you have been the one to call?”
Jordan sighed like I had blown it. “I gotta go.” He reached for the door and started to close it.
I blocked his way. “I’m sorry. But for all I knew, you had gone off to see Bucky What’s-his-face again.”
Jordan sagged against the doorjamb as if he were too weak to stand without support. “I had food poisoning.”
“From the VFW breakfast?”
“Guess so.”
“Wow. From pancakes and sausages? Is your grandfather okay?”
“He didn’t get it. No one got it but me.”
“Maybe it wasn’t food poisoning.” Maybe it’s your body fighting Parvani’s spell.
“Something sure hit me. The doctor said it isn’t the flu.”
It was Parvani. Or maybe Miss Ravenwood. No, Parvani. I felt like someone had piled the Guardian Stones upon my chest. “I’m sorry I jumped to the wrong conclusion. I should have called you.”
“Thanks.” Fatigue shadowed his lake blue eyes. “Like, it isn’t always about you, Evie.”
I winced at the disappointment in his voice. Now I wanted to vomit. I swung around.
“Hey. What happened to your head?”
My fingers flew to my stitches. “An accident in Gym. Didn’t Parvani tell you? I ended up in the hospital.”
“Man, Evie. Parvani didn’t say a word. She just called to check on me, then asked about the dance.”
The Guardian Stones tumbled to my stomach, making room for the knife piercing my heart. “The dance?”
“Evie…”
“I’ll email you my science notes.” I dashed to the Volvo, fighting back tears.
“What happened?” Mom asked.
I fumbled with my seatbelt. “Food poisoning. He’ll live.” I stared straight ahead.
Mom hesitated, then switched on the ignition. We passed wine-colored plum trees and birches with their snowy trunks. No willows. I was done with willows, and wands, and trolls, and Buddhas, and best friends.
And boys. I was definitely done with boys.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Thursday morning, Mrs. Hyde-Smith called with some lame excuse to suspend carpooling. Fine by me. I had concluded Jordan was the major victim here, and I did not want to be in the same school with Parvani, much less share a car. Besides, the quiet drive gave me time to think about Dad and the looming anniversary of his death.
Mom seemed preoccupied. I got the feeling she didn’t want to be home alone. Guess the extra trips to school were what Nana would call a blessing in disguise.
Friday dawned cool, clear, and sparkling after a night’s rain. Wayward gulls called to each other overhead as I crossed the soggy field.
“Evie! Wait up.”
My stomach flip-flopped at the sound of Jordan’s voice. “Hey,” I said when he fell into step beside me. “You’re back.”
The quick sprint had winded him. “Hey,” he gasped.
His vampire-like pallor worried me. “Shouldn’t you be home? You don’t look too well.”
“I wanted to be here. Where’s Parvani?”
I wanted to slug him, but then I remembered it was the spell talking, not him. Besides, in his condition, even one of my swats might knock him flat.
“Haven’t seen her.” I tried to sound neutral, but snarkiness laced my voice. “We’re not carpooling anymore.”
“Wretched. Okay. See you in Gym.” He squelched off.
Heat flamed from my throat to my strawberry hairline. I wondered if I could talk Mom into driving me to Well-Read Books. Karma be damned. I needed a counter spell.
****
By third period, the sun ruled the sky. Coach Willis blew his plastic whistle and yelled, “Mile time, people. Get running. Evie, Evan, hit the bleachers. No blood this time.”
I felt like a rock in the middle of a river as my classmates streamed around me, headed for the outer edge of the field. Before I could gloat over Parvani having to run, I spotted her swing of long black hair. She jogged beside Jordan. My gloat soured into something ulcerous. Lacking options, I headed for the aluminum bleachers. Evan clumped ahead at a laborious limp, his right foot encased in a black walking cast. A twinge of guilt slowed my step.
Rainwater had pooled between the ridges of the aluminum, leaving just a three-foot dry patch under a redwood tree. Evan got there first. His face contorted as he shifted sideways and stretched his injured leg onto the bench.
Which left no room for me.
As I approached, Evan started to move his leg.
“No, no,” I said, shocked by his unexpected gesture. I grabbed his leg to keep it from sliding off the bench. “Stay. I can stand.”
“You have a concussion. You shouldn’t stand all period.”
“But you’re in pain.”
Evan shrugged. His red hair, clean for once, fell across his blue-gray eyes.
“We’ll compromise. I’ll sit, and you put your leg across my lap.”
His eyes lit up, igniting a moment of panic. Had I gone insane? Maybe my head injury was worse than I thought. I couldn’t take back the words, so I lifted Evan’s cast-encased foot and sat down. “This thing weighs a ton,” I said after he lowered the cast onto my lap.
“Tell me about it.”
“I’m sorry…” We spoke at the same time and stared at each other in surprise.
“I didn’t mean to break your foot.”
“I swear I had nothing to do with Tommy mowing you down.”
I tried to remember if I had ever seen Evan without Tommy. The class thundered past. A couple of guys hooted. Someone yelled, “Way to go, MacDonald.”
Then the stragglers jogged past. Shock played across Parvani’s face. Jordan slowed to a near stop and stared. My heart sank when I registered his confused expression.
“You call yourself a running back, Kent? Even the girls are p
assing you,” Evan chided.
Jordan flashed me a hurt look. My heart tore. I glared at Parvani. She lowered her chin and averted her gaze, but not before I spied the remorse in her eyes. She knew she had screwed up big time, but didn’t know how to fix things.
Kind of how I’d felt when Dad died.
I glanced back at Jordan. His lake-blue eyes bored into me. I gulped a couple of times, my thoughts skittering. Someone bumped Jordan from behind. He stumbled forward, cast me a final, forlorn look, and then jogged on, leaving me alone with Evan, Smash Head.
Chapter Thirty
The next eight days passed in a miserable blur.
“You have to do something.” Zhù shouldered past me like a chocolate-seeking missile and headed right for the kitchen.
“And buenas tardes to you.”
“Buenas tardes. Got a bowl?”
“What size?”
Zhù dumped his backpack on a chair and started to unzip it. “Cereal size will work.”
I dragged a chipped bowl out of the cabinet and placed it on the table.
“Gracias.” Zhù pulled out a baggie and poured a bunch of edamame into the bowl.
I stared at the little green spheres. “You don’t like brownies anymore?”
Zhù tossed a bunch of soybeans into his mouth. “Love them. But I’m starving. Thought I’d start with these. Besides, soybeans help me think.”
I brought over a plate of brownies and two glasses of water.
“Parvani won’t talk to me,” Zhù said.
“She’s not speaking to me, either.”
“She’s been avoiding me ever since she saw me at your house. I still don’t know what she meant by her comment.”
“What comment?”
“She said, ‘I expected more from you.’”
Guys. So clueless. I pulled out a chair and sat. “Parvani probably thought you’d always be there for her. You know, her loyal sidekick. Maybe she didn’t realize how much you meant to her until she saw us together and she thought she’d lost you.”
“That’s crazy.”
