Spell Struck: Book 2 (The Teen Wytche Saga)

by Ariella Moon

  Aidan thrust a paper in my hand. "We're still teaming up, right?"

  "Yeah. Sure." I glanced down at the assignment, wondering what I had missed.

  Aidan splayed his hand across his heart and said to Pilar, "Alas, bright star, I am already spoken for." He glanced down at Nazario, who watched us from the front of the auditorium. "But I believe yon knight could be persuaded to cast his lot with you."

  Pilar's doe eyes would have entranced a lesser soul. She nodded to Aidan and fluttered her hand as if she held an invisible scarf. "Therefore, I bid thee farewell."

  Aidan bowed. "Farewell."

  They would have made the perfect couple, with their matching dark hair and exotic good looks. I shoved my razor-cut hair behind my ear and wished for once I hadn't dyed it black and purple. "You can pair up with her if you want," I said as Pilar tiptoed down the stage stairs. Though I couldn't imagine whom I'd team up with if he did.

  Aidan frowned. "We had a deal. I keep my word." He glanced at Nazario and Pilar. "Unless you'd prefer to work with the hulk down there. I'm not sure how great of a playwright he'd make."

  "Playwright? What are you talking about?" Panic rampaged through my nervous system. "I suck at spelling. I can't write a whole play."

  "Wow, you are out of it today. We're supposed to rewrite one of the plays we summarized. You know, like West Side Story is a retelling of Romeo and Juliet and Ten Things I Hate About You is a remake of The Taming of the Shrew…"

  "Are you serious? We have to write an entire play?"

  Aidan pointed to a paragraph on the assignment sheet. "We have to write a synopsis for whatever idea we come up with, and then write and perform a single scene of our proposed play."

  "In Shakespearean English?"

  "If we want. The play can be set in the modern day, or the future, or whatever. Any ideas?"

  I laughed, a feral sound on the precipice of hysteria. Aidan studied my face as if he thought my next move might be to cry. Which was entirely possible. "Let's find a seat. I need to sit down." I handed in my play summaries to Mr. Peters on the way to my hideout toward the back of the auditorium. Aidan shadowed me.

  We settled into adjoining seats. Aidan thunked his messenger bag on the floor between his feet and leaned down to unbuckle the straps and flip back the flap. His legs kind of spread out, and his knee rested against mine. My awareness jumped from the funnel cloud whirling in my head to the side of my knee. Aidan's warmth seeped through his faded jeans, through my leggings, and sent a warm tingle careening up my leg. He extracted the library's copy of A Midsummer Night's Dream and held it aloft. "Know why we are going to ace this?'

  I shifted sideways in the seat and drew my feet up under me. "No. Please, inform me."

  He placed the book in my hand. "What is this play about?"

  "I don't know. Trust? Relationships? Magic?"

  "Right. And who knows more about magic than anyone in this auditorium?"

  I sat a little straighter. "We do."

  "We? I was thinking you."

  "I have high expectations." And I secretly asked the love spell to bring me someone magical, and it brought you.

  "Wow. No pressure." Aidan rolled his shoulders. "Okay. To Team Magic."

  Goose bumps sprouted on my arms. "To Team Magic. But let's not get overconfident. A Midsummer Night's Dream is pretty complex. Maybe we should pick something easier."

  "Romeo and Juliet or The Taming of the Shrew?"

  "I'm not sure." I searched the sheet. "The paper is due by the twenty-sixth, the day before Thanksgiving."

  "And we have to present our scenes by then, too. So we have three weeks." Aidan's eyes rolled upward, as if he were calculating. "We should decide on something by this weekend." His pale gray eyes brightened like storm clouds backlit by the sun. "We could do a goth version of Romeo and Juliet."

  "Or make them gypsies and have them first glimpse each other in a fairy forest."

  "Maybe we should rethink A Midsummer Night's Dream, but keep the part where they wake up together in a bower."

  I snatched the play from his hand and teasingly hid it behind my back. "Do you even know what a bower is?"

  "Sure I do." Aidan's hand slipped behind my back. "It's a leafy nest or shelter or—" His fingers pulsed against mine as we wrestled for the booklet. Triumphant, he held it aloft, just out of my reach. "But we could make it the burned wreckage of an armored tank and set the play on a war-torn street."

  I rolled my eyes. "Sounds much more romantic than a fairy forest."

  Aidan's lips slid into a sly grin. "Ah. So milady desires romance and magic?"

  I remembered the love spell and collapsed like a pricked balloon. "Fine. We'll go for war."

  Aidan hesitated, then handed me the play. "We're Team Magic. Let's not make love a battlefield. Life is hard enough."

  "Agreed." I deposited the booklet into his open bag. "Can we do a parody?"

  "Slick. Mr. Peters didn't say we couldn't." Aidan shifted in his seat. "Everything okay? You seemed kind of distracted earlier."

  The dream shivered into my conscious mind. A sick feeling twisted my stomach. I couldn't tell him I was worried Amy would end up back in lockdown or drop out of college. And forget saying anything about Teen Wytche and how curing it might help Amy. I'd rather he not think I was demented. Okay, maybe it's too late for that.

  "Family problem."

  The bell blared. We both flinched. Aidan hoisted his messenger bag. It had seen better, cleaner days. I stood, and since he blocked the aisle with his long legs, I waited for him to get the hint. Aidan rose and we joined the stream of drama geeks heading out the door.

  "There you are!" Parvani strutted onto the path and fell into step beside us. Her perfect ballerina posture and three-hundred-dollar designer heels added four inches to her five-foot-two frame. Her clipped, I-used-to-live-in-London accent added to her air of entitlement and confidence. She adjusted her ebony glasses and eyed Aidan.

  He held out his hand. "Aidan Cooper."

  "Parvani Hyde-Smith." She beamed her best future executive boardroom smile and shook his hand. Her gold bracelets slipped from her coat sleeve and softly clattered together. To me she said, "Tiffany texted me she won't be sitting with us. She wants to see the foreign film showing at the same time. So I have an extra ticket."

  "Tiffany chauffeurs Parvani and her brothers," I explained. Because Mrs. Hyde-Smith would rather shop or go to the spa than drive carpool.

  Parvani pulled two tickets from her handbag, handed one to me, and offered the other to Aidan. "I need to give Tiffany's ticket to someone. Are you free? We're going to the one o'clock show."

  Aidan shoved his fingers through his hair. "Sure, if Salem doesn't mind."

  Heat rose from my toes to my cheeks.

  "She's totally fine with it," Parvani declared.

  "Hello? I'm standing right here!" What was Parvani doing? Setting us up?

  Aidan stepped back. "Maybe we should do this some other—"

  "No, come with us." I had already blown it once with Aidan. I wasn't sure how many chances the universe would give me. "You'd be doing a public service."

  His lips curled into a puzzled grin. "By keeping you from feeling like a fifth wheel?"

  My blush intensified to a wildfire on the heat and embarrassment meter. "That, and someone has to stop Evie from throwing herself at the screen. She has a serious crush on Shay Stewart."

  "It's settled, then." Parvani placed the ticket in Aidan's hand. "See ya." With a triumphant smile and swing of her long dark hair, she pivoted and strode in the opposite direction. Listening to her heels clack against the concrete walkway as she threaded through the crowd, I couldn't decide if I wanted to hex her or thank her.

  ****

  Theater nine was located upstairs, just past the concession stand and the girls' bathroom. Parvani and Zhù led the pack, tossing unbuttered popcorn at each other. Parvani had sprung for three super-sized popcorn orders. I considered it reparation for wrecking the grimo
ire. Everyone had bought bottled water except Evie and Aidan, who both claimed they weren't thirsty. Each had asked the cashier for a free cup of water.

  I stood on my tiptoes and peered into the dim, crowded theater. "Do you see any empty seats?"

  "There are two over there." Jordan pointed to a gap high on the left.

  "We'll never find six together," Zhù said. "You and Evie should grab them."

  "Go!" Parvani said. Jordan and Evie sprinted for the stairs.

  "Looks like four together down there." Aidan nodded toward the back row in the section closest to the screen. We dashed for them, only to discover coats on two of the seats.

  "These two are free." A woman holding a box of frozen bonbons pointed to the seats without coats.

  "Take them," I told Parvani, since she was closest to the seats and had, after all, paid for everything.

  "But what about you two?"

  Aidan touched my shoulder and pointed. "Check out those, and I'll scope this side."

  I ran to the left and down two rows. The lights dimmed further, signaling the previews were about to start. "Are those seats free?"

  The couple closest to the seats bobbed their heads. I waved for Aidan. Watching out for toes and trying to not spill the popcorn, I excused my way to the empty seats. Aidan reached me as the theater went black.

  "Made it." Relief and excitement infused his words.

  I giggled. "Ye of little faith."

  An amused grin lit his face. Guess he hadn't realized I was capable of an expression other than scowling.

  The first trailer roared onto the screen, an action flick with a thundering soundtrack. Behind us, a teen yelled, "Woo hoo!" at the screen. I jumped at the sudden, deafening whir of helicopter blades and almost dropped the popcorn. Aidan caught it.

  "Only a few casualties." Aidan's breath was warm against my ear, further accelerating my heart. "I better hold it. You might faint when Shay Stewart comes on."

  Can't he see how much he resembles Hollywood's bad boy? "Shay is Evie's crush, not mine," I said in his ear.

  Aidan brushed back my chin-length hair. His calloused fingertips grazed my ear, fluttering my abdomen. "And who is your secret crush?"

  You. "Haven't got one," I lied. The screen went dark in the two seconds between trailers. The next trailer played — a tragic love story due out on Thanksgiving. The boisterous theater crowd hushed. The hospital setting reminded me of Amy and my dream. Renewed worry engulfed me.

  I glanced at Aidan. He leaned forward in his seat, his index finger slanted across his lips, his jaw propped up on his thumb. While watching the hospital scene, his face seemed to morph into a younger version of himself. He appeared so sad and vulnerable. Empathy and something more coursed through me.

  Aidan lowered his hand. His finger pressed against my skin, shooting a delicious tingle up my arm. When I didn't move away, he hooked his finger over mine. My breath caught. We stayed, frozen, hyper-focused, for what seemed like three lifetimes. Then Aidan trailed his fingertips across the back of my hand. The soundtrack, popcorn smells, and theater audience melted into the background. The world narrowed down to the unspoken grief and need entangled in Aidan's touch.

  I rotated my hand so my palm faced upward. Aidan hesitated. Our gazes locked in the flickering light. The spell link humming between us lit up like blue lightning. At least I think it was the spell link. Aidan plunged his fingers between mine. Our palms pressed together, igniting a current. Air shuddered from my lungs. Magic rippled from us in successive waves.

  My heart stuttered. My breath ceased. Every cell within me vibrated. Troops of fairies or dragonflies took flight in my lower abdomen. It's possible blue lightning shot from my boots.

  Good thing I wasn't holding the popcorn.

  Shock and alarm scudded across Aidan's face. He squeezed my hand, then released it. When I glanced down, he was scrubbing the knuckles of his left hand up and down his right palm.

  My heart clutched as if the evil queen from my favorite television show had ripped it from my chest and crushed it. Is he trying to erase me? Hurt, confusion, and anger bubbled up. Who did he think he was? I glanced about for an escape. There had to be an empty seat somewhere.

  There wasn't. Trapped, I tried to lose myself in the movie.

  The magic we had ignited toyed with the time-space continuum. It seemed like only twenty minutes instead of two hours had flashed by before the screen faded to black and the final credits rolled. The couple seated beside us left. Aidan rose, too. I grabbed his wrist and pulled him back into his seat.

  "We have to wait until the absolute end."

  "Why?"

  I searched the bottom of the bag for the last kernel of popcorn and chomped it. "Because they always show a great teaser for the next installment. Besides, there's no way Evie will leave until then."

  "Okay." He sat.

  I waited for him to scrub my touch from his wrist. Instead, Aidan cradled my hand and traced the silver leaves and vines on my wrist with his finger.

  Okay, maybe it wasn't me he was trying to erase. "That tickles."

  "Cool design."

  "I copied it from a book cover." An ancient grimoire, as a matter of fact.

  Parvani and Zhù crept into our row. As they made their way past a mother-and-daughter group, Aidan released my wrist. By the time Parvani and Zhù plopped into the now vacant seats beside us, Aidan and I stared at the screen as though nothing magical had transpired. But I swore I heard the rapid beat of Aidan's heart, and my wrist still buzzed from his touch.

  Too quickly, the last credit rolled and the teaser scene aired. When it finished, Zhù said, "We better help Jordan extricate Evie."

  "I'll text Jordan to get moving. We're supposed to meet Tiffany in the lobby," Parvani said.

  "Evie doesn't have a cell phone," I explained to Aidan. I pulled out my phone and activated it. The device started beeping, indicating I had text messages and voicemail waiting.

  My insides tumbled when I read the first message. Call me as soon as you get this. Urgent! Mom.

  "Anything wrong?" Aidan asked.

  "I'm not sure." I punched in Mom's number. She picked up on the first ring.

  "Sarah?"

  "Yeah, Mom. I just got out of the movie. Everything okay?"

  "Amy's roommate called. Sweetie, I have to go back there. Your dad is waiting outside the theater to pick you up."

  "Okay." My heart sank like a stone tossed into a bottomless lake. "I'm on my way."

  "Sorry, baby." Mom sounded old, her voice thin like frayed wire. "See you soon."

  "Bye," I said, but Mom had already severed the connection.

  Chapter Ten

  Jordan and Zhù seemed to assume I knew what was going on with Salem, so I kept my mouth shut and my ears open. Zhù twisted in the front seat of his mom's sedan, straining against his seat belt while he said, "This can't be good."

  Jordan leaned forward. "I know. Like, Amy must be in bad shape if she couldn't hang in there until the Thanksgiving break."

  Zhù pushed back his rimless John Lennon-style glasses. "I wonder if she tried to commit suicide again."

  Their worried energy ricocheted around the car. Mentally, I tried to ward it off. Papo's Rule Number One — don't get attached — shrilled like a siren in my ears.

  "Poor Salem," Zhù said.

  Jordan drummed his fingers against the cream-colored seat leather. "Yeah. Like, what if depression runs in her family?"

  What if the mystery appointments Salem mentioned were trips to a therapist?

  Mrs. Wong pulled into a leaf-strewn driveway. Contentment emanated from Jordan's house. Nice people must live there. Kind people. Lucky guy.

  Jordan reached for his backpack as the car rolled to a stop. "Thanks for the ride, Mrs. Wong."

  She gave a brief nod. "You're welcome. Say hi to your mom for me."

  "Will do." Jordan knuckle-bumped Zhù, then pivoted in his seat and knuckle-bumped me. "Later, man."

  "Yeah, later."
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  Jordan closed the car door behind himself, then headed to his front door with long, easy strides. Mrs. Wong said over her shoulder, "Dewing Street, right?"

  "Yes, ma'am," I answered. "If it's not too far out of your way."

  "No problem at all." She backed the car out of the driveway and headed toward town.

  A few blocks from Dewing, I began to worry. What if Zhù or his mom recognized the house as a foreclosure? What if they did an online search or made a few calls, and realized we were squatters? I shifted in my seat, unbuckled my messenger bag straps, flipped back the flap and pretended to search for house keys.

  Mrs. Wong made a left onto Dewing. "I didn't realize there were houses back here."

  "Keep going straight. I'll let you know when we get near."

  We passed a newish retail complex and then some shingled suites, the kind accountants and therapists rent. The road curved up a hill. We entered a mash-up of apartment complexes, older homes, mature trees, and picket fences. I silently prayed none of the "family" were outside.

  "Here's my block."

  Mrs. Wong slowed the car. "Which house?"

  My gaze swung from the foreclosed house to the sidewalk, where June walked Mitzi and Artemis. I leaned forward and pointed. "You can stop next to the woman with the dogs."

  "Does she have a Yorkie in her baby carrier" Zhù's voice rose, incredulous.

  "Yep. Mitzi."

  Zhù guffawed. Mrs. Wong glided to the curb and stopped.

  "Thanks for the ride, Mrs. Wong."

  "Any time, Aidan. Pleasure to meet you."

  "You, too." June spotted me and waved. Zhù and his mother waved back. "If you talk to Parvani," I told Zhù as I opened the car door, "thank her again for the ticket."

  "Will do, man."

  I closed the car door and walked over to June. Mrs. Wong drove off, leaving behind car fumes and, I'm sure, unanswered questions.

  "Hi Aidan. How was school?" June's face lit with genuine interest. I wondered how often she had heard from her son since he had left for college.

  "School was okay." I petted Mitzi, then crouched to pet Artemis. The dog strained against her leash to lick the salt and popcorn residue from my fingers.