T*Witches 3: Seeing Is Deceiving

by H. B. Gilmour

  Emily had blinked back tears, which just proved Alex was right. The woman could pretend all she wanted, but at the core of it, Emily didn’t want her here. Alexandra Fielding had totally messed up the symmetry of their lives.

  Okay, so a part of Alex knew she was being unfair — she could hear Sara chiding her gently, “Give her time, baby, this isn’t easy for her.” But the others had made room for her quickly, in their lives and sort of in their hearts. So what was Emily’s problem? Another part of Alex so didn’t care. She’d had a mother who raised her, and another who bore her: Emily Barnes didn’t fit into any emotional equation in her life.

  This evening promised its own special brand of tense, since she and Cam were at odds. Alex stubbornly refused to be bent out of shape just because Cam’s substitute teacher happened to be a shoplifter.

  Cam needed to chill and see how things played out.

  “So,” Emily announced, swiping away too-long bangs from her forehead, “tonight’s experiment is …” She paused in this faux-dramatic way. “Chicken Kiev.”

  “Exactly what I was in the mood for!” Dave said, winking at Cam.

  Part of Emily’s new regime was her insistence on making dinner herself, and making it complicated. What was she thinking? Alex thought. If she morphed into Martha Stewart, everything would go back to the way it was? Under her control?

  Only Emily Barnes didn’t really have the time, talent, or inclination to be a doyenne of domesticity. And it showed.

  Now she hovered over the table, looking hopeful, and dramatically lifted the lid off the ceramic baking dish. Cam smiled encouragingly. “You made this last week, Mom. It was … uh … really good.”

  “Only,” Emily admitted, “I was rushing this morning, and I might not have defrosted it enough, so it might be a little rarer tonight.”

  Cam’s curly-haired dad tried for a joke. “So what’s a little salmonella among friends? I’m sure it’s great.” He grabbed his knife and sliced into the top piece. It was bright pink in the middle.

  “I think I speak for the chicken when I say …” Dylan paused for effect, then yelled, “Ouch!”

  Emily was not amused, especially as her son added, “Yo, Moms, there’s a difference between rare and alive.” Then, he started flapping his elbows, doing a cheesed-out rendition of the funky chicken.

  Alex burst out laughing. Not at Dylan’s lame-o joke, but because she’d heard Cam think, This could be a good time to announce that I’m going vegan.

  Emily thought Alex was mocking her. “I’d really appreciate you not encouraging him,” she said in a clipped tone. “I’m doing my best.”

  Dave tried to squash his own amusement. “If it’s too rare for you, Dylan, just take it into the kitchen and nuke it.” With that, he helped himself to chicken, salad, green beans, and a baked potato.

  “So, how was school today?” Emily’s line, Alex thought, but delivered by Dave. The man was determined to be supportive of his wife’s insistence on dinner chat.

  When a mumbled chorus of “fines” greeted him, Dave chuckled, “Okay, I withdraw the question, on the grounds of ‘too vague.’ ” He turned to Cam. “How’d soccer practice go?”

  “Not that great,” Cam admitted between forkfuls of salad — hoping her mom wouldn’t notice her avoiding the chicken. “I wasn’t real focused.”

  Emily looked up, concerned. “Is anything wrong?”

  Only everything. Cam sighed. But full disclosure between her and Emily was a casualty of Alex’s arrival, as was finding out that Dave knew more than his wife ever would about the twins. Well, maybe she could tell her mom some of it. “We have a substitute for social studies.”

  Emily’s eyebrows arched. “And you don’t like her? That’s what interfered with your concentration in soccer?”

  Without meaning to, Cam let her eyes drift to Alex. A gesture Emily caught. Before she could misinterpret and accuse her of throwing off Cam’s game, Alex blurted, “Beth was a no-show at practice. Cam thinks she’s mad at her.”

  Cam glared at Alex. I so need you explaining things for me! You weren’t even there! Testily, Cam contradicted, “Beth got there late, and I do not think she’s mad at me.”

  Touchy, touchy, twin-shine. I was just trying to help you back out of the corner you almost pushed yourself into. Or were you planning to connect Ms. Webb with soccer practice?

  I don’t need your —

  Emily turned to Alex. “You know, I’ve been thinking. Soccer is such a great sport, and since you and Cam are so similar physically, I bet you’d be good at it. Why don’t you try out for the team? It’s not too late.”

  Hoping Emily noticed she was halfway through her chicken, Alex said casually, “Soccer’s not my game.”

  “Is there any sport you do play?” Emily probed.

  Yeah, Alex thought but didn’t say. Where I grew up, we were all into croquet. And crew. Let’s not forget tennis, with my titanium racquet.

  Cam broke in, Stop it!

  She can’t hear me, Alex responded, running a hand through her streaked and choppy ’do. Out loud, she responded, “I’m not big on team sports.”

  Emily pressed on. “Something else, then? The yearbook, the literary magazine, photography, debate club? Any extracurricular activities will look good on your college application.”

  “Who said I’m going to college?”

  Emily’s jaw tightened, but before she could respond, Dave switched gears. “Guess what, Alex? The paperwork for us becoming your legal guardians is pretty much finished.”

  Alex tensed. She was not up for adoption. No way would she go that route. But she was underage and needed legal guardians. Alex had little choice but to go along with it. She could, and did, choose not to discuss it.

  Tentatively, Emily asked, “So what’s the next step?”

  “We go through a standard evaluation process. A social worker will check us out, be sure we’re suitable parents, that kind of thing.”

  Dylan elbowed Alex. “Oooh, this is like you’ll be our foster child. Maybe we’ll call you Little Orphan Alex. Or Harry Potter. We could build you a cupboard under the stairs….”

  Cam cracked up and was relieved to see a slow grin forming on her twin’s face. Alex elbowed Dyl. “Oh, yeah? If I’m Harry Potter, that makes you fat cousin Dudley. I think I’ll call you that from now on.”

  “You do and I’ll take back that guitar I gave you,” he joked, turning excitedly to his parents. “You should hear us riff together. We rocked the house this afternoon!”

  Emily frowned. “This afternoon? Didn’t you have basketball practice today?”

  Dylan took his time before responding, chewing deliberately. “Oh, yeah, I meant to tell you. I’m off the team.”

  “What?” Emily looked horrified.

  “Whoa, Moms, chill. It’s not like I said I offed someone, I’m just off the team.”

  That drew Dave’s wrath. “Don’t speak to your mother like that.”

  Emily tried to censor herself but couldn’t, and went with her first instinct. “You didn’t get kicked off? I mean, we would have heard …”

  Alex tensed for the wave of Emily’s blame surely coming her way.

  Dylan shrugged. “I didn’t get kicked off. I quit.”

  It was Dave’s turn to be taken aback. “Why? And why didn’t you tell us?”

  “There wasn’t anything to tell. Basketball’s not my thing anymore.”

  “Your thing?” Emily’s voice went up an octave. “What is your thing, then?”

  “I don’t know. Music maybe,” Dylan said defensively. “Do I have to decide my whole life right now?”

  If Emily was trying to keep herself from shooting Alex a glare, she didn’t succeed.

  “If you’re thinking I had anything to do with this —” Alex started, but Emily cut her off.

  “You have no idea what I’m thinking,” Emily inserted. “You may be very talented, Alex, but I doubt you can read minds.”

  Cam braced for the though
t Alex was about to shoot her way….

  Can’t I, Auntie Em? Just shows what you know.

  … And hurled a retort at her twin. Shut up!

  Dave leveled a glance at his son. “Well, I’m really disappointed that you made this decision without even telling us. It’s not like you.”

  Cam’s double-earringed bro tipped his chair backward. “You’re all making a big deal about nothing. So I’m not on the team. So what?”

  Dave, in peacemaker mode, quickly interjected, “You know what? We’ll talk about this later. Clear the table, deal with the dishes, all three of you.”

  The phone rang and Emily, ignoring her own rule, sprang up to get it. Dave announced, “I’m going into the den; I’ve got some work to catch up on. Not that anybody asked, but my day wasn’t so great, either.”

  Alex’s face fell. He’d worked on the guardianship papers all day, and now she was giving Emily a hard time. Is that what had gotten him down?

  Sensing her discomfort, Dave explained, “It’s nothing to do with you, Alex. A new case is frustrating.”

  “The same one you had to go into the office for on Sunday?” Cam asked.

  He nodded. “There’s been a rash of shoplifting episodes, mostly by kids. It’s looking like a pattern.”

  Together, Cam and Alex said, “Shopliftings?”

  Dave explained, “Run like a sting operation. A twosome, usually an older woman and a younger girl, enter a jewelry store. They ask to see an expensive piece of jewelry. The older woman then distracts the salesperson …”

  “While the teenager replaces the piece with a fake?” Cam finished, her stomach slowly sinking.

  “How’d you … guess?” Dave started to ask, but stopped. He knew something about Cam’s premonitions, or “hunches.” “Anyway,” he continued, “in the last heist, the kid got caught and I’m representing her.”

  “What about the woman with her, does she have another attorney?” Cam asked, but she already knew the answer. Which was: “She got away.”

  “And the girl refuses to identify her accomplice?” Alex guessed.

  “Right again.”

  “Dad?” Cam paused. “Can you tell us your client’s name?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  BETH’S FROST

  Cam was on high alert. She couldn’t squash the feeling — stronger than ever now — that Webb needed to be brought to justice. That she needed to get Webb off her back — and away from Beth.

  Alex had no such feeling. Correction: Als insisted they had to play it cool. Wait until Webb tripped up. Until then, keep a close eye on Beth.

  That wasn’t good enough for Cam, who kept Alex up half the night, pacing and fretting. The usually rational twin kept insisting they had to tell Dave about the shoplifting they’d intercepted. Which forced Alex to play her “bad plan” tape again. While Dave knew about the twins’ heritage, she reminded Cam, he didn’t know about their powers. “The less he knows, the safer he is. If Karsh wanted him to know, he would have told him.”

  There it was again. Karsh. The information the weathered, wise old warlock had — and had not — given them. It was beginning to overshadow everything else in their lives. Cam had a burning need to step out of those shadows into the bright, if sometimes brutal, truth of sunlight, which conflicted with Alex’s instinct to let the shadows linger awhile, until she found her own way.

  “Als,” Cam had said finally, on the verge of giving up, “at the very least, wear your necklace, OK? I’ll feel more secure. Humor me.”

  Karsh had given Alex a necklace, a half-moon charm that he later explained had been crafted by her biological father, Aron. It fit perfectly into Cam’s half-sun necklace, forming a circle.

  The very first time the twins had worn them together, something magical had happened. As if super-magnetized, the sun and moon had pulled toward each other, desperate to fit together!

  And when they did, the sisters heard a voice…. A faint yet sure, faraway voice, a man. Followed by another, dulcet and loving. Could it have been Miranda and Aron? The twins had no way of knowing … yet.

  * * *

  “Cam! Alex!” Dave called as they pulled up to school the next morning. “Rise and shine! Cute as the two of you look dozing in the backseat, the slumber-number gig is up. We’re almost there.”

  Blearily, Cam lifted her head from Alex’s shoulder, where it had apparently drooped when they’d dozed on the short ride to school. She yawned and fumbled for her backpack. “Gracias for the lift, padre. We totally wouldn’t have made it if we’d had to walk.” Cam leaned over and gave Dave a peck on the cheek.

  Alex rubbed her eyes, clearing the cobwebs from her brain. “We wouldn’t want to chance a tardy tarnishing Cami’s perfect attendance record.”

  Cam shook her head. “Speaking of tarnishing, your eyeliner’s trashed. Free beauty tip of the day: Rub eyes equals smush makeup.”

  Alex grinned. “Merci, Bobbi Brown. That’s the look I was going for. Smush-goth.”

  At least, Cam thought, alighting from the car, Alex was wearing her necklace. Cam wasn’t entirely sure what power the amulets held, only that they were stronger when the girls wore them together.

  Too bad she had no power to warm up the chill wind that her best bud had become in her presence.

  In the morning classes they shared, Beth barely spoke to her. Which was in vivid contrast to the complete Oprah she’d become to everyone else. In science, she shared an in-joke (“Okay, so this amoeba slithers into a bar …”) with brainiac mate Sukari, leaving Cam out. In Spanish, she traded notes with Six Packer Kristen Hsu. During math class, Cam heard her whispering to Bree. In PE, she passed the volleyball to everyone on her side — except Cam.

  In English lit, Cam sent her an “I’m sorry” note, but Beth made a point of not reading it. With a pang Cam realized she still hadn’t read Beth’s. She scrambled to find it, but she got called on just then.

  There was no thaw at lunch. Cam had gotten to the cafeteria a little late. She’d stopped to try and convince Alex to A) fix her makeup (“You’ve made your subversive point”); and B) come eat with the Six Pack (“Everyone wants you to join us”). She’d failed on both counts. Ornery Als insisted on keeping her goth look and brown-bagging it outdoors with Dylan’s ragtag bunch rather than be “another stripe in your Rainbow Brite Gang.”

  So by the time Cam arrived, most of her friends were already eating. Beth was seated — on purpose? — between carrottopped Amanda Carter and Brianna. Cam sat across from them, next to Kristen. She was determined to try and talk to Beth, only her BFF launched into an animated convo with Amanda.

  “We can all sign up,” Beth said, taking a huge bite of her tuna sandwich. “It’s the one Ms. Webb works for. She’s going to bring some more info for me after class today.”

  “Sign up for what?” Bree asked between mini bites of salad and a diet cola.

  “Helping Hands,” Amanda responded. “Beth’s been telling me about it. It’s this group that runs a shelter for abused and abandoned kids.”

  Helping Hands? That’s what Beth had joined? That charity thing from the mall? With that cute guy, Shane? How tangled was this Webb? Cam lost her appetite.

  In one smooth motion, Sukari slid onto the bench and into the chat. “So what all would you do? Baby-sit the kids? Read to them or something?”

  “Uh-uh.” Beth shook her head and wiped a bit of mayo from the corner of her mouth. “They have a paid staff for that. Our job is to raise money to keep the place running. Wait, they have a mission statement.” From her backpack, she withdrew a pamphlet — the same one from the cart at the mall, Cam noticed — and read, “‘Because we believe that every child is entitled to a safe, secure, and stable environment, Helping Hands is dedicated to improving the quality of life for at-risk children. To make a positive difference in the life of even one child is to be truly blessed.’” She passed the brochure to Amanda and Bree. Photographs of sad-looking children clutching stuffed animals stared out at them.


  Amanda spontaneously teared up. “These poor babies. I’m signing up.”

  Sukari reached over the table to scan the pamphlet. Warily, she asked, “How do they expect you to raise money?”

  “That’s what this afternoon’s meeting is about,” Beth explained. “Ms. Webb is going to explain the process.”

  Cam couldn’t restrain herself. “Just make sure the process isn’t…” Illegal was the word she wanted to scream, but “anything too intense” is what she settled for.

  Deep brown eyes flashing, Beth turned on Cam. “What is your problem with this? Forget it, don’t answer. We know Cam isn’t joining.” Beth’s frostiness took everyone by surprise.

  “Why not? You’re all about little kids, Cam,” Sukari asked.

  “Because her mojo told her it’s a no-go,” Beth muttered.

  Cam wanted to explain, but she caught something out of the corner of her eye. A teacher entered the cafeteria from the side door. A teacher wearing a long black duster over matching slacks and dark spike-heeled boots. Webb.

  Cam felt her skin prickle and her stomach tighten. She eyed Webb again. The shifty substitute was striding across the room, in the direction of Principal Hammond, who was patrolling the cafeteria.

  “What about you, Bree?” Beth was now teasing. “Beneath that superficial yet highly exfoliated skin surely beats the heart of a closet humanitarian. Join with?”

  Bree scrunched her pert, upturned nose. “So you don’t actually have to be around the kids? Play with them or anything? That could be” — she fished for the word — “messy.”

  Beth laughed. “Relax, it’s about keeping the shelter up and running.”

  “Fine. Just tell me where to donate.” Bree reached for her wallet.

  “Come on, you guys, it’s about saving little children. Where are your hearts?” Amanda, who wore hers on her sleeve, demanded.

  Kristen shook her head. “Tempted as I am, time’s at a premium. Bree and I signed up for the dance committee this morning. We’re doing decorations. Between that and soccer there’s no way.”

  The winter dance was two weeks away. Sponsored by the parent-teacher organization and held in the gym, it was the school’s first big social event of the season. This year’s theme was Winter Wonderland.