“Turn Luck Against Thy Foe,” I read. “This is the bad luck hex?”
“Looks like it. It says here that you need a personal item from your ‘foe,’ something of importance to yourself, feathers from a black bird, and wax from a black candle. You tie your object, your foe’s object, and the feather together, then drip wax on it while reading the incantation three times. As long as your ill will holds strong, and this talisman you’ve just created holds together, your foe will have luck turn against them at every opportunity.” She’s paraphrasing a bit, but I can see where she’s reading it from.
“Where did you get this book?” I ask.
She holds it up proudly, and smiles. “I got it on eBay. Three hundred bucks but totally worth it.” Personally, I think her game-playing hobby is a little on the expensive side, but I don’t criticize her for it. Marlene’s a bit of a geek and I think she’s happy to be sharing this part of herself with another girl, so I try to be encouraging.
“Does it have a counter-spell?” I ask.
“Nada. It’s the same as the websites; I see the same line everywhere about how hexes are bad feelings made manifest and it’ll fade when time heals the ill will.”
“But this thing is getting stronger,” I say.
“So then we’ll just have to find that talisman and break it apart,” she says. “At least now, we know what it’ll look like.”
“Black feather, black wax,” I say, nodding. “But let’s hope for a counter-hex. Keep reading. I’ll look in the other books for any kind of protection magic. Maybe we can keep Dina safer, in case we never find that talisman.”
Marlene agrees and we go back to reading separately. After a couple hours, my dad knocks and asks if Marlene is staying for dinner.
“No,” she calls through the door. “I’m just leaving.”
We haven’t found a viable counter-spell, or even a protective hex that will work on someone who’s already hexed. Unless our bad guy’s feelings suddenly change, our only hope of destroying that yellow aura is to find the black-feathered talisman, which could be anywhere in town.
Hopefully Dina doesn’t do anything else to anger her foe.
Wednesday, November 14
It’s been a few days since anything serious happened. While Dina’s yellow glow remains, the aura hasn’t sprouted any new tentacles, and as far as I know, she hasn’t had any “accidents” since the electric shock. I haven’t tried to talk to her again, since she was downright mean last time, but we’re still keeping our eyes on Mason and Wayne to see if either of them have any black candles or feathers around. So far, it’s been an uneventful week.
School’s out, and I’m just pulling books from my locker, making sure I take home everything I need for tonight’s homework. I’m going pretty slowly, since Tam’s not at her locker yet, and Ryan’s not around either. Usually, they’re waiting for me to be ready to walk home, but not today. I finish packing and close my locker. Still no sign of my friends. It’s at times like this I wish I actually had minutes for my phone. After another five minutes go by, I decide I’m just going to have to walk home by myself.
As I walk past the cafeteria doors, I hear someone call my name.
“Vefreet!” shouts a male voice. I turn and enter the cafeteria slowly, not sure what I’m walking into. There are about ten students in the cafeteria, with a lot of banners and posters laid out on tables. Two of the students are Ryan and Tam. “Hey,” calls the guy who first shouted at me. It’s Wayne, standing at a table near a long banner of brown paper.
“What’s all this?” I ask.
“The council debates are tomorrow. We’re getting ready. Tamara volunteered you.” He smiles and I can’t stop myself from smiling back a little, before I turn to Tam. She just winks and says “We’re helping the democratic process.” Nobody else hears the sarcasm in her voice, but I know her well enough to know that she must hate this.
“OK,” I say. “In the name of democracy, what do you need?”
Wayne waves me over. “We’re painting every candidate for president’s name on this banner. It’s going to be hung above the stage in the gym. You any good with art?”
“Not really,” I say. “More of a math person.”
“We’ve got two colours. Just write each name in alphabetical order, alternating colours.”
“What will you be doing?” I ask.
“I’m gonna run to the gym and get up on a ladder. A lot of things have to be up on the walls, and since I’m still the Prez I have to make sure it gets done.” He smiles again. “So can you handle this?”
“Yeah,” I say, stirring a pot of blue paint with a brush. “Alphabetical by first or last name?”
“Last. Just paint what I typed out on this sheet,” he says, pointing. “If you spell anything wrong just blame it on me!”
“Got it.”
Wayne jogs around the table toward the exit, and as he goes he calls over his shoulder, “Any questions, Dina’s in charge!” That’s a surprise since I haven’t noticed any glowy yellow girls in the cafeteria. For a moment I think maybe Dina’s hex has been lifted, and that’s why I didn’t notice her. But after Wayne leaves, Dina enters through the back doors. She’s just as glow-in-the-dark as ever, with three arms of light floating aimlessly around her. She sees me, and marches right over.
“Oh, you’re here?” she says with unconcealed spite.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I’m helping.”
“Well don’t spell any names wrong,” she admonishes. “And make sure every name fills the whole width. For example, my name is short, so it should be in bigger letters than the others.”
“Isn’t ‘Al’ shorter than ‘Dina?’” I ask. “Shouldn’t that make his name twice as big?”
“Nevermind,” she says. “Just do whatever but don’t screw it up. That’s the last big roll of paper they had.”
For a while I busy myself writing the four candidates’ names on the page, alternating between blue and black (our school colours). Tamara and Ryan come over to inspect my work.
“Not the worst penmanship I’ve ever seen,” says Tam. “Second worst, but not the worst. The people in the front row might even be able to read it.”
“It looks fine,” says Ryan. “Considering the brushes you had, I’m sure that’s the best you could do.”
(Gee, thanks guys.)
“So why are we volunteering?” I ask quietly.
“It’s a good place to scope out our top suspect and our cursed girl all at the same time,” Ryan says.
“Yeah except for the part where Wayne’s in the gym,” says Tam. From the twinge of anger in her voice it seems like this was Ryan’s idea and Tam’s not too happy about it.
“Are you kids done?” calls Dina. I can’t believe she just called us kids.
“Yeah,” replies Ryan. “The banner’s ready and our painting of the student council logo is over there.”
Dina goes to their work station to inspect the picture the two of them were working on. “You totally forgot the glitter for the wildcat’s eyes and claws,” she says.
“The wildcat has glitter claws?” asks Tam, barely hiding her disdain.
“Of course it does, duh. I proposed that at the last council meeting, which you would know if you ever read the school paper.”
“Oh, sure, I remember now,” says Tam. “But nobody ever gave us any glitter, so…”
Dina looks around the table and realizes that they’re right. No glitter. She sighs, and points to the far wall, where some backpacks and shopping bags are sitting on the floor. “It must be in one of Wayne’s bags. Go find the glitter and the white glue, and I’ll make sure it gets done right.”
We roll our eyes at the fact that Dina can’t be bothered to walk across the room for the glitter even when she’s the only one who cares about it, but then we do what she wants and head over to the bags. We dig through the plastic shopping bags, finding art supplies and the white glue, but no glitter. I call out to Dina that the glitter isn’
t here and she insists we just aren’t looking hard enough. Tam, who has obviously had enough of this, grabs one of the backpacks and unzips it. I feel like we’re invading people’s privacy, but at least we can put the blame on Dina if anyone gets mad about it.
Tam digs through a black backpack but finds nothing but binders and a textbook, so she moves on to the next one. “Holy crap,” she whispers. Ryan and I crowd close to her so we can look inside the bag.
There’s a plastic bag inside the backpack, filled with black feathers. “No way,” I say.
“Whose bag is that?” Ryan asks. We pull out one of the textbooks and check the sign-out sheet that’s glued inside the cover. This book belongs to Wayne Shepherd.
“What are you lookin’ for?” Wayne asks from behind us. We were so busy poking through his things that we didn’t notice that he had come back.
Tam stuffs the textbook back into the bag.
“Glitter,” Ryan says. “Apparently, the wildcat had a manicure.”
“Oh,” he says, coming over. He looks down at us, crouching in front of his open backpack. “You won’t find it in there.”
“Oh, sorry,” I say. I’m about to start blabbering an apology for opening his bag, when Wayne says:
“It’s in the side pocket. I didn’t want it anywhere it could roll around. If you spill glitter, you’ll never get it off your stuff.”
Tam nods, zips the main compartment shut and opens the side pocket. Sure enough, there’s a bottle of blue glitter inside. “Got it,” she says. I’m looking at Wayne, wondering if he’s secretly enraged that we went into his bag. He seems calm enough. Tam and Ryan take the glitter over to Dina to complete their painting, leaving me alone with Wayne.
“Is the banner ready to go?” he asks.
“Paint is probably still wet, but yeah it’s done.”
“I’ll be careful. Sydney’s waiting by the ladder to get it hung up. Could you lift one end and carry it to the gym with me?” I nod and we head over to my banner. As we walk the hallway between the caf’ and the gym, Wayne’s walking backward, looking right at me, while I’ve got the other end of the banner so I’m looking back at him.
“How come you memorize everyone’s name?” I ask.
“It’s not just everyone’s name. I memorize the yearbook. I know all the clubs, the teams, what championships we won last year, which teams are never any good. It makes it easy to talk to people about school issues.”
“Watch the turn,” I say as we get close to the gym. He looks confused but smiles bashfully when he realizes I mean for him to look behind himself, and then we manage to turn the long banner into the gym without it touching the ground or smudging the paint. When she sees us approaching, Wayne’s girlfriend Sydney climbs up a ladder next to the stage. Janelle, the studious girl from my chem class, is already atop a ladder on the other side of the stage.
“Just lay the banner on the stage and we’ll get it hung up,” Wayne says.
“OK.” I do what I’m told and get the banner safely to the stage. I tell them all that I’m going home and to have a good debate tomorrow. I’m about to leave when, for some reason, I decide to take a risk.
“What are the feathers for?” I ask Wayne.
“The what?”
“The black feathers. They were in the bag with the glitter. It’s not like the wildcat has feathers.”
“I don’t know,” he says, a funny half-smile on his face. “Maybe someone grabbed them at the craft store and figured we could use ‘em. If they’re black they’re Cats colours.”
“Guess so,” I say. “Have a good night.”
Wayne says goodbye and the girls on the ladders do likewise, and then I go to the caf’ to get my backpack and my friends. We walk home wondering where Wayne’s hiding his magic talisman.
“Just think,” Ryan says as we walk through a cold wind. “If Dina has a good showing at the debates, and it seems like she might win…”
“Wayne’ll be pissed right off,” says Tam, completing his sentence. “And that psychic lady did say the hex was fueled by anger.” I don’t add anything to the conversation. I’m too distracted worrying that Wayne can be so charming and earnest while also holding enough anger to power the hex. (What did Tam call him? A cult leader?)
“Think on the bright side, says Tam, “If Dina’s as much of a bitch on stage as she is in real life, she’ll be out of the running. Then Wayne won’t need the hex.”
Ryan laughs a bit, and eventually we branch off to our own roads home, but I think deep down they’re both feeling what I am. Terrified.
I arrive home to find Marlene waiting on my front step.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I tried to call but I guess your phone is still down,” she says. “I think I know who’s behind the hex.”
“So do I, his name is Wayne,” I say. I pull the door open and usher Marlie inside. We head to my room and close the door, so my brother Devon doesn’t hear us talking about magic and hexes.
“Wayne?” she says finally, as I pull my bedroom door shut. “Why Wayne?”
“Who did you think it was?” I ask.
“I was thinking we never really ruled out Mason Charles, so I wanted to know more about him. I creeped him on Facebook but I didn’t find anything, but I had the idea to check out his brother Matty’s page.”
“And you found something?” I ask. I sit down in the chair, so Marlene sits on the floor, her back against the side of my bed.
“Black candles. In the background of pictures. And you can’t make the talisman without dripping wax from a black candle.”
“So Mason’s got the candles and Wayne’s got the feathers,” I say, weighing the options.
“No!” She blurts. “Not Mason. Matty. That kid’s whole room is full of occult stuff.”
“Are you sure you were creeping his Facebook for my sake?” I tease her, since a boy who’s as into this stuff as Marlene sounds like a perfect match for her.
“What? Oh, shut up!” She blushes a little, and I wonder if I was right. “I looked at some of his posts and he complains all the time that Mason beats him up. I bet that bullying stopped when Mason was busy with a girlfriend. I bet he only started beating Matty up again after Dina ripped his heart out.”
I nod. “And if a weirdo like Matty blames Dina for his brother beating him up, then Matty might hex Dina out of spite.”
“Exactly. I can tell he’s got the candles, and his bookshelves seem to be full of old occult books. I bet he could pull of this hex easily. I think Matty Charles is our witch.” Marlene seems pretty proud of her detective skills, and I have to agree, she’s come up with a pretty good suspect.
“But why hex Dina, why not hex Mason?” I wonder.
“Maybe he’s afraid to,” she says. “I don’t have an older brother but I bet if a gigantic guy like Mason beat you up on a daily basis that could get pretty intimidating.” She’s quiet for a second, before her head snaps up and she looks at me again.
“Wait, did you say Wayne has the black feathers?”
10
Thursday, November 15
The big student council debate (which isn’t really a debate; it’s just each of the four people running taking turns giving speeches) is going to be held in fifth period today. That gives us time during lunch to track down Matty and see if the little nerd will give us some answers.
The last time we wanted some information out of Matty, Tam and I were enough to intimidate him into talking. This time, we’re looking for a confession, so all four of us—myself, Tam, Ryan, and Marlene—are all going to corner Matty and press him for answers about his black candles.
We converge on Matty’s corner of the caf’, all four of us looking serious and intimidating. Matty is playing his card game with the same friend as the last time we came to speak to him.
“Hey Matt, can we talk to you a minute?” asks Ryan.
“Who are you?” he responds.
“How about you get out in the
hallway and talk to us or I get really loud and embarrass you?” threatens Tam. “Did you say you’re coming out of the closet?” she says, her voice getting louder.
Matty looks baffled, but he caves to her demand and walks with us to a quiet section of the hallway, leaving his friend behind.
“What do you want?” he asks, looking at me. “Are you, like, stalkers now?”
I can’t really think of something to say. Should I just tell the kid I can see hexes? That doesn’t sound completely insane, does it?
“I have a question for you,” says Tam. Thank God for Tam, she’s always happy to play the role of bad cop. “Why do you have the black candles?”
“What?”
“On your Facebook, you seem to light black candles all the time.”
“You’re on my Facebook?” Matty asks. “I’m not your friend.”
“Check your privacy settings. But I wanna know why you have the candles.”
Matty’s squirming, trying not to answer.
“Is it something to do with your brother? Maybe something that helps you cope whenever Mason lays a beating on you?” She’s really grilling him now.
“What? How did you know? What do you want?” he’s looking at me like I’m going to save him.
“Tell me why you did it,” I say. “Just explain yourself.”
“Mason comes home after school and picks on me. So sometimes I light my candles and, you know…”
I try to sound nice, like I’m playing ‘good cop.’ “I don’t know. Tell me.”
“Sometimes I get so angry and there’s nothing I can do about it, since if I ever fight back he just destroys me.”
“What did you get the candles for?” I ask.
“Oh, come on…” he’s fidgeting. His hands are pulling at his shirt. He’s visibly uncomfortable talking about this.
Marlene blurts her way into the conversation. “Where are you keeping the talisman?”
The Hex Breaker's Eyes Page 6
