T*Witches: Don’t Think Twice

by H. B. Gilmour

  “Guess not,” Cam said, tossing berries, milk, a banana, and ice cubes into the blender. She added a packet of vitamin C. “You want?” she offered Alex. “I should have enough here for both of us.”

  Alex squashed her first response, which was “I’d rather drink paint,” and managed a polite “I’ll pass.”

  “So if our mystery author isn’t Karsh, then who?” Cam asked, dropping a capsule of echinacea into her brew.

  “Well, it sure isn’t Ileana’s style.” Alex jammed a Pop-Tart into the toaster. “Our reluctant guardian either uses e-mail or makes a dramatic appearance.”

  Cam laughed. If Ileana had wanted to tell them something or warn them of some danger or help them — she’d have swept into their room, nose in the air, midnight-blue cape flaring around her Jimmy Choo stilettos. Stuffing a note into her bowling case? Ne-vuh!

  That left …

  “Thantos,” Alex said.

  “Final answer?” Cam dismissed the notion. “How unlikely is it that a billionaire recluse, as Starstruck called our uncle, would deign to show up at Bowl-a-Trauma? He’d send a messenger….”

  “And the nominees are?” Alex asked.

  “You do realize you’re about to ingest pure sugar, guaranteed to rot your teeth, eat away your stomach, and for the bonus round, fill you with empty calories.” Cam frowned as her sister pulled the Pop-Tart from the toaster.

  “Breakfast of champions,” Alex retorted, deliberately biting off a big piece.

  “What about those two sketchy-looking skanks who were checking us out?”

  Cam arched her eyebrows. “You noticed them, too?”

  “Who wouldn’t? They stood out like festering sores. Could be one of them was the messenger.”

  “Messenger? In the bowling alley? Was one of you expecting a package?” Dylan Barnes sauntered into the kitchen, rubbed his eyes, and yawned.

  Cam and Alex looked at him, then exchanged wary glances. Dylan? Cam silently asked her sister.

  Thantos and his followers were talented shape-shifters. Masquerading as someone Cam and Alex knew and trusted was not beyond them.

  “No way,” Alex decided.

  “And, backspace,” Dylan added. “What are you two doing up? Did the rooster forget to tell you it’s Saturday?”

  “Right back atcha,” Cam queried.

  “I’m going boarding with Robbie Meeks.” Dylan grabbed the box of Pop-Tarts Alex had left out. “We’re getting an early start.” In one smooth motion, he shoved two half-thawed Pop-Tarts into the crumb-ringed toaster and grabbed milk from the fridge, downing it in a few gulps.

  “Who’s taking you to Robbie’s?” Alex asked.

  “Mom or Dad, whoever gets up first,” Dylan responded.

  “Mom,” Cam said absentmindedly, forgetting for a moment that Dylan didn’t know about her hypersenses. “She’s up already.”

  “And she hears a phone ringing,” Alex added.

  “How do you know?” Dylan started to ask.

  A split second later, Emily called from upstairs, “Cam, your cell phone is ringing. You want me to get it?”

  Dylan’s milky mouth dropped open.

  “Coincidence!” Alex tried to assure him.

  “I’m on it!” Cam hollered to her mom, heading for the stairs.

  Alex raced into their room behind Cam and closed the door. “Starstruck calling back?” she asked hopefully.

  “Finally,” Cam said.

  “I was just about to leave a message.” The voice on the other end of the line was hyper upbeat, with a nervous edge.

  Alex sank down on her bed. It wasn’t Starstruck’s photo editor returning Cam’s call, it was Cam’s starstruck friend, Brianna Waxman. No doubt the call was about her party. Though Alex still didn’t want to go, she found herself hoping it was on, hoping Bree’s old man hadn’t bailed again.

  “How sweet is this?” Alex heard Brianna chirping. “My dad can’t come here, so he’s flying me there. We’re leaving for L.A. in an hour — first-class tickets are at the airport. We’ll be there through Monday, back at school Tuesday.”

  “That’s … great … I guess,” Cam stammered.

  “I know you’re bummed, everyone is,” Brianna said. “It’s so totally last minute. But my dad’s staff is working overtime to throw a Hollywood mega-bash in my honor.”

  “So you’re uninviting us? I mean, we’re not coming with you. Obviously.” Cam glanced at Alex, knowing her twin was tuning in.

  “Sorry,” Bree said. “Daddy only sprang for two tickets. I asked Kristen. You understand, right?”

  “No probs.” Alex plucked the phone out of Cam’s hand and told Bree, “We’re totally down with it.”

  “No, we’re not!” Cam contradicted, taking back the phone. She barely knew why she’d said it. “I mean, do you think this is a good idea, Bree?”

  “It’s the kick idea!” Bree shot back. “Daddy, mansion, Brad, Julia, Brice, a spread in People magazine. The downside would be?”

  Cam bit her lip. What should she say? Her friend sounded psyched, excited. Her deadbeat dad was finally coming through for her. After what Alex had told her about last night, Cam should have been thrilled and relieved for Bree. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “It’s just that you’ve been, I don’t know, tired or something lately. Do you really think jetting off cross-country, just for the weekend … I know it’s your birthday, but it’ll take a lot out of you.” How lame did that sound?

  The only thing that’ll make it lamer is if you remind her to wear her retainer and clean up her room, Alex shot at Cam.

  “A few days of Cali sunshine does a body good. It is still winter here, in case you hadn’t noticed,” Bree said.

  Cam couldn’t argue with that. Her bedroom window framed a gray tableau — gray sky, bare gray trees, gray-streaked mush from the last snowfall. And a fresh layer of the powdery stuff was forecast over the weekend.

  Plus, Bree’s emotional meter was set on gush. “My dad just got this new gym installed. State-of-the-art exercise equipment!”

  Brianna had become such the gym bunny lately. But how could Cam stress over healthy exercise?

  “Favor?” Bree said. “My mom is going to call the school and say I’m out sick, so cover for me, okay? Don’t go blabbing about my phenomenal West Coast birthday bender.”

  “Sure,” Alex agreed as Cam stared into space, not answering her burbling bud.

  “Okay, well, I’ve got a bunch of calls to make before the limo comes. Tootles, twinskis,” Brianna shrilled, then hung up.

  Cam hit END and put her phone down. “Als, something’s not right with Bree.”

  Alex agreed, “All the more reason she needs this ego-booster shot.”

  “Sure, if her dad doesn’t …” Cam didn’t finish. She didn’t have to. Alex knew what she was thinking.

  “Let’s be optimistic.” Alex channeled Oprah and hoped she was better at convincing Cam than she was at convincing herself. “Miracles do happen, you know.”

  “Speaking of …” Alex reminded her.

  “Right. We’ll give Starstruck until the end of the day Monday,” Cam decided. “If they don’t call by then, we’ll …”

  “Find another way to get to them,” Alex finished her sentence. “And track down the photographer who took that picture. No matter who sent the note — good guy trying to help or bad guy trying to trick us — we have to find her. Fast. That picture is our only lead.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  A VISION IN THE SNOW

  Alex had been a sophomore at Cam’s school, Marble Bay High, since September, a grand total of eight months. Unlike her old school, Crow Creek Regional, with its peeling, puke-green walls and ancient computers, Marble Bay was all fresh all the time.

  Translation: better ’hood, better stuff.

  The school was best of breed. Spankin’ new everything: computer lab, library, media room. More electives to choose from, more clubs to join, more guidance counselors to whine to.


  More didn’t necessarily mean better. And yet, Alex admitted as she headed toward her locker between classes on Monday, the school did get Alex’s props for its art department, especially the elective called Art-ventures. Student creations from that class — all on the theme of friendship — decorated the corridor she was walking down now.

  One project in particular caught Alex’s eye: a collage. She was sure she’d never seen it before, though something about it seemed familiar. It showed two girls — definitely not twins. One was very thin. You could see her skeleton, make out the bones inside her transparent body. Only her eyes were impenetrable. The other was so fat she appeared to be exploding; bits of the paper that made up her form were actually torn in places. The picture was dotted with cutouts of food, and there were letters pasted over the fat girl’s mouth, letters of different sizes and styles that spelled out the word Secrets. It almost looked as if she were choking on them.

  Cool. Alex didn’t totally get it, but whoever had thought it up had some weird but interesting ideas about friendship. Alex nearly took her props back when she saw who’d signed it: Kristen Hsu.

  “Can you believe Kristen did that?” someone behind her asked.

  Alex jumped involuntarily, then recognized Sukari’s voice and turned, grinning, to greet the girl. Of Cam’s Six Pack of best buds, Sukari Woodward was the one Alex liked best. Cocoa-skinned, like Alex’s Montana homey Evan, Sukari had round glasses, a round face, and a defiantly round bod. Her platinum-bleached dreads and Gap/Banana clothes, however, were state-of-the-mall, befitting the daughter of two distinguished doctors.

  “Ready for the test?” Sukari asked as they headed toward chemistry class. “I spent half the weekend studying for it.”

  Reality bite: Suke was a super science-head. If it had taken her all weekend to study, Alex was in trouble. She and Cam had been stressed and obsessed since receiving the anonymous note. Little else had penetrated her brain. In the “else” category is where the chemistry test lay, unattended to.

  The “uh-oh” look on her face gave her away. “Spaced on it?” Sukari guessed.

  “Totally,” Alex conceded as they approached their row of lockers. “There was a lot of other stuff going on.”

  Sukari pursed her lips. “Can’t blame it on Brianna’s party. Bet you’re relieved to get out of that one.”

  Alex tossed her books into her locker. “Was I that obvious?”

  “Is L’il Kim?” Sukari slipped a notebook into her backpack. “Some things, girl, are written all over you.”

  Ten minutes later, Alex found herself wishing the notes to the science test were written all over her. The questions might as well have been in Elvish. She could barely decipher them, forget about figuring out the right answers. She scanned the classroom and saw some kids chewing on pencils or staring into space, looking worried. Others, Sukari among them, were scribbling away confidently.

  A random thought drifted into Alex’s head. Would it really be cheating if she lightly knocked on someone’s — say, Sukari’s — brain, just to see what she was thinking?

  Bam! Like a speeding billiard ball crashing into that idle thought, came another, effectively knocking the first idea out of her head. What are you thinking? You’d use your powers to cheat on a test?

  Alex almost laughed out loud and sent a zinger back to Camryn the chem cop. I’m using my powers like we’re supposed to. To help the needy — which in this case is me! Before Cam could slam her with another telepathic tsk-tsk, Alex added, Chill. I am about to fail this test all on my own. No amount of magick could give CPR to my grade in this class.

  The final thought Cam imparted was: The word on Mrs. Olsen: On multiple choice, it’s usually “C, B, D, A.”

  As Alex circled her first C, she realized this was the first time Cam had contacted her from as far away as another classroom. Now that was new.

  “What’s it like on your planet?” Beth tapped Cam on the shoulder, startling her. “I said hi, hola, shalom, bonjour…. Wherever you are, I’m obviously out of the language loop.”

  Cam looked at Beth blankly. She hadn’t even realized her best friend had slid into the seat across the aisle.

  “My bad,” Cam apologized. “But I’m totally here now.”

  “People! People! Settle down. We have a lot to cover,” their language arts teacher, with the unfortunate name of Mr. Snibble, called out. At least he had a sense of humor. “Don’t quibble with Snibble” was the motto on his blackboard.

  Holding a stack of papers, he said, “Since, as you’re about to see, you all performed so brilliantly — yes, I am kidding — I’m giving you the chance to redeem yourselves and your sagging grades.”

  Cam was bummed. Her GPA was crucial, and obviously Snibble hadn’t been impressed with her last-minute paper on the Salem witch-hunts.

  “Now,” Mr. Snibble was saying, “I’m returning your embarrassing critiques of The Crucible —” He paused, noticing Beth’s hand in the air. “Yes, Ms. Fish?”

  “It’s not that I, you know, doubt you or anything, but you’re saying the entire class tanked on the essay? All of us?”

  It was unlike Beth to question a teacher — that was so Brianna’s style. But since Cam couldn’t break into her best bud’s thoughts (Alex’s was the only so-called mind she could read) she wasn’t sure what Beth was doing — suggesting that Snibble rethink his marking system?

  Their teacher didn’t take offense. “Let’s put it this way,” he explained. “Everyone in this room could benefit by choosing an extra-credit project.”

  Beth pressed on, “No one got an A?”

  Mr. Snibble sighed. “The only student who did well is Brianna Waxman, who doesn’t seem to have joined us today. You wouldn’t happen to know why, would you, Ms. Fish? You and she are good friends, are you not?”

  Only the slightest tic gave Beth away. No way was she ratting out Bree. “Not really.”

  Snibble raised his eyebrows, gently baiting her. “You’re not really good friends?”

  Beth’s freckled face reddened. Cam could tell she was embarrassed — and annoyed at being put on the spot. “We are friends. I’m just not all that sure why she’s … uh … absent.”

  Mr. Snibble scanned the room. Had his gaze settled on Cam? “Does anyone know where Brianna is?”

  No sooner was the question out of Snibble’s mouth when, Wham! There it was, full-tilt intense and whiplash swift. Cam’s eyes stung. Snibble’s face faded. Everything around her blurred. A loud, insistent buzzing in her ears blocked out all other sounds. She was sweating and freezing at the same time. All of which meant just one thing. Camryn was about to have a vision.

  She saw … a woman, a girl, someone she knew, yet did not recognize. The person was shivering in the snow, clutching her stomach, bent over, tears streaming down her face.

  Then something happened that hadn’t before: Cam could see through the eyes of the figure in the vision. She saw the back of a house. Brick, suburban, familiar … with a willow tree, a weeping willow. Whose house was it? Who was crying out in the cold?

  As quickly as it had overtaken her, Cam’s vision was gone. The snowbound stranger morphed into the familiar features of Beth Fish, now staring at her, a panicked look on her face. The buzzing in Cam’s ears gave way to words.

  “What’s wrong?” Beth was scared.

  “Ms. Barnes, are you ill?” Mr. Snibble was obviously concerned. Behind him, she heard the alarmed murmurs and embarrassed giggles of her classmates. How long had she been spaced?

  “You’re okay, right?” Beth’s voice wavered. “You looked so out of it — and you’re, like, sweating.”

  Cam blinked, pressed her palms on her desk for support, and tried to assure everyone that she was okay — though her throat was parched and her head pounded.

  “Was it an attack of some sort?” Mr. Snibble was now asking.

  Cam opened her mouth —

  “She’ll be fine!” The voice belonged to a girl charging into the classroom.


  Alex.

  She was at Cam’s side in an instant. “I told you not to stay up studying all night,” she scolded. “Mr. S?” Alex asked quickly, hoping to avoid the question of how she knew Cam needed her. “Would it be okay if I took my sister to the …”

  “Nurse,” he finished, relieved. “Yes, of course, Ms. Fielding. Good that you happened to be, ah, coincidentally walking by my classroom.”

  Alex nodded quickly, then helped her grateful sister up and out. As soon as they hit the girls’ room, she handed Cam some aspirin. The visions she had were especially painful.

  “How did you …?” Cam started to ask, swallowing the pills while cupping her hand under the faucet for water — but she knew the answer before she finished asking the question.

  “I heard something,” Alex responded. “Someone crying out for help. It was in the middle of that brain-boggling chem test and, dude, at first, I thought it was me, crying out for just one right answer.”

  In spite of feeling shaky, Cam managed a weak smile. “I told you — C, B, D, A. Anyway — tell me what you heard.”

  “Someone crying, choking, her teeth chattering,” Alex answered. “‘I’m so scared, so alone,’ she was saying. ‘No one understands. Why is this happening?’”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A PICTURE’S WORTH

  “Do you think we should try to contact Karsh or Ileana?” Cam asked, zipping up her pink ski jacket and starting for home. Alex, with a ridiculous woolen cap that said MONTANA jammed on her head, fell into step with her.

  They’d wanted to leave school sooner but that would have meant going to the nurse, and worse, contacting a parent. So they’d waited out the rest of the afternoon, in their separate classes, then dashed out together, when the dismissal bell rang.

  “Too soon.” Alex put the kibosh on sending a 911 to their guardians. “What would we say besides you had a vision and got a weird note?”

  The sidewalk had been plowed, allowing only for a narrow path. In places, the twins had to walk single file.

  “And you heard her voice,” Cam reminded her sister. They’d heard Miranda speak just once before, just one sentence. This time, she hadn’t sounded so soft and breathy.