After a couple of minutes, I pull away. “We need to get back to work,” I say, smiling. “These flyers aren’t going to make and hang themselves.”
“Very true. But we need more paper. Can you check in Kat’s binder? She said she brought orange cardboard.”
“Sure.” I skip over to the pink couch and take Kat’s binder out of her backpack. “Here we go,” I say, pulling out the paper. And that’s when I see the neat blue ink writing on the inside wing. First her address and then:
Kat Kosravi
Kat Postansky-Kosravi
Mrs. Katherine Kosravi
Mrs. Will Kosravi
Mrs. Katherine Lucretia Postansky-Kosravi
I slam the binder shut. Without the proof staring me in the face, it’s easier not to care that Kat likes Will. Is it possible that beneath the spell Will has feelings for Kat? “Will,” I say, handing him the orange paper, “if we hadn’t gotten together, who would you have asked to the prom?”
He lies on his stomach and pulls the cap off a black marker. “Probably Kat.”
Oh, no. “Really? Did you two ever go out?”
The apples of his cheeks turn red. “Me and Kat? No. She’s, like, my best female friend.”
“And you never thought about asking her out?”
He shifts on the floor, starting to look uncomfortable. “I thought about it. But then you came along, and I realized that it was you I wanted to go with. And be with.” He blows me a kiss. “Don’t be jealous.”
It’s not jealousy that’s creeping up my spine. It’s guilt. I feel bad for her. Not only is her middle name Lucretia, but I stole her boyfriend. As soon as prom is over, I have to set him free.
I head straight to my room when I get home. Mom’s out, of course. And there’s still no TV.
Miri is already sitting in front of the cauldron, staring. “If it’s not there by morning, we’ll try something new.”
“Uh-huh.”
I spend the night tossing and turning, and turning and tossing. Every time I turn toward the bowl, I can’t stop myself from opening my eyes and staring at its barrenness. I don’t even remember falling asleep, but the next thing I know, the sunlight is spearing my eyelids. I open them slowly. Please let there be a TV. Pretty please?
Omigod. Right in front of my eyes is the largest TV ever. It stretches across my window, from my bed to my desk. I don’t believe it. The spell worked! I am overwhelmed with awe. It’s gorgeous. Amazing. A metallic fixture of true beauty. Long, rectangular, black, and sleek.
“Miri! Come look!” I scream. But a quick peek at the clock tells me that it’s only six a.m. Oops.
A second later, she’s at my door, dressed in shorts and a tank top—and covered in soot. “It grew?”
“Where were you?”
Miri yawns. “Back at the bushfires, trying to blow them out. But it didn’t work.”
She’s really starting to worry me. “Do you even sleep anymore?”
She rolls her eyes. “I can’t waste time sleeping, Rachel. I have too many important things to do.” She approaches the TV and taps her fingers on the screen. “This is cool.”
“Isn’t it? Let’s do the multiplying spell right away! Let’s make five for the auction, then one for you and one for me!”
She raises an eyebrow. “Mom doesn’t get one?”
Humph. “Not these days.” I haven’t spoken to Mom since our fight. “I can’t wait to show the soc. Can we do the multiplying spell right after school?”
“We could. But I have to figure out how to control it. If we make a few hundred, like we did with the oranges, we could have a real space issue.” She stands on tiptoe, as though measuring its length. “I’m not sure where even two are going to fit. We don’t want the TVs to break.”
“We can do it in the living room.” Whatever. We’ll figure it out. Cha-ching! Even if for some inexplicable reason the multiplying spell doesn’t work, I have one TV to donate. A TV that’s worth at least four thousand dollars! I rock! I want to test it out immediately. I find the plug and squeeze between the TV and my bed to locate the socket. “And now,” I say in my radio-announcer voice, “the moment of truth.” I insert the plug and squeeze back onto my bed, where my sister has already made herself comfortable.
“We probably have to turn it on,” the know-it-all says.
I have to get up again? “Is there a remote?”
“I’ve got it,” she says, and presses Power.
And nothing. “Press the Power button on the TV,” I instruct.
She does, and still nothing. “Maybe it’s warming up,” she says. “I bet you it will work by the time we get home from school.”
I yawn. “Maybe. I’m going back to bed.”
“And I’m going to pop over to Antarctica. You wouldn’t believe what’s going on with the ozone layer down there.”
I sigh. “You’d better put on something warm.”
“Rachel, where are you getting the TVs? And when are they coming?” Will asks during lunch. We’re all sitting around the soc lounge, finishing the paddles for the auction.
I ignore the first question. “They’re almost ready. I just have one tiny problem left to fix.” Which I’m sure we’ll be able to do.
Bosh gives me a high five. “Awesome, dude. Let’s make up a new poster advertising them!”
“Whoa, wait,” I say, suddenly nervous. “You know, in case I can’t get them to work.”
Tammy raises an eyebrow.
“They’d better work,” River says quickly. “We need some expensive stuff. Otherwise the auction is going to be a wash.”
Oh, God. He’s right. I push the concerns out of my head. It will turn on. It has to.
“Don’t worry. The TVs are new, right?” Kat asks.
“Yeah.” Brand-new.
“Then they’ll be fine. And if not, my uncle has an electronics repair store on First Ave. He can fix anything.”
I doubt that.
“Um, guys?” whispers a voice from the back of the room.
“What was that?” River asks.
“Guys?” the voice says again. Ah, it’s Jeffrey. “I was thinking,” he mumbles. “If it’s all right with you, on the big day, I’d like to be the auctioneer.”
Will scratches his head. “Do you know how?”
“Yes,” he answers.
Will looks to me for advice. I shrug. “All right, then,” he says. “If you know what you’re doing.”
I hope I know what I’m doing.
I run straight back to my room after school and holler, “Let’s take our baby out for a spin!”
“Huh?” asks Miri from the other side of the wall.
“Let’s watch some high-definition television!” I drop my jacket onto the floor and dive onto my bed. Miri joins me on the bed. I pick up the remote and press the Power button. Come on, come on.
Suddenly, there is a jolt of color, and the blankness on the screen morphs into a swirl of blues and greens.
Yay! Pretty! There are mountains and hills and grass . . . and Julie Andrews singing to the von Trapp children.
“Far . . . a long, long way to run . . .”
“It works! It works!” Miri cheers. “I rock!”
It does work, but it’s Julie Andrews who’s rocking. Uh-oh. “It’s The Sound of Music.”
“I know!” Miri squeals. “I love that movie!”
“But that’s the exact scene that was on the image I cut out from the catalog. Isn’t that odd? What channel is this?”
“Three.” Miri chomps her thumbnail. “Let me change it.” She squints at the TV and presses the Channel Up button. A church comes into view.
Thank goodness. I exhale. “At least it’s not—”
“How do you solve a problem like Maria?” the nuns on the TV screen are singing.
Right now, Maria’s not my problem. “Change the channel again,” I order.
“I am sixteen, going on seventeen . . .”
Beads of sweat drip down my forehe
ad. “Again?”
Miri flips through ten more channels and all are showing various scenes from The Sound of Music. Eventually we return to channel three, back to “Do-Re-Me.”
I flop my face onto the comforter and moan. Wait a sec. I lift myself up on my elbows. “Do we need cable?”
Miri nods. “Let me get a hanger.” Miri is a cable superstar. Seriously. Before we got cable she hooked us up with many channels. Now that she’s a witch, maybe we can hook up to every station in the universe.
When she returns, she unravels the hanger and adjusts it on the television. A few minutes later, she sits back on the bed. “Let’s give it a try.” She changes the channel.
The Sound of Music.
The Sound of Music.
The Sound of Music.
“Just turn it off; it’s too freaky,” I say. I feel like spiders are creeping up my back.
Miri presses the Power button. But it doesn’t turn off.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I don’t know. It isn’t working,” she says, panic seeping into her voice.
“That will bring us back to Do, oh, oh, oh,” the TV tells us.
Before I’m the second person in this apartment to have a nervous breakdown, I squeeze behind the TV again and yank the plug out of the wall. I exhale with relief. That should do it.
“Doooooe!” Maria and the children sing.
I close my eyes in pain. “What do we do?”
Miri shakes her head in bewilderment. “I have no idea.”
“Maybe you should do a reversal spell.”
“I’m scared of that spell. Maybe it’s like paint and needs time to dry.”
That’s true. It might just need to set. Like a cake. We check on it again after dinner, but it’s still singing away. “Okay, let’s let it sit for the night, then.” I grab my pillow. “Sleepover at Miri’s!”
She groans. “If you steal all my covers, you and the von Trapp children can sing duets all night, you hear me?”
“I don’t think it’s a duet if there are seven of them.”
“You know what I mean.”
The next morning, I open my door with trepidation. Unfortunately, I find the hills still very much alive. Guess we won’t be doing the multiplying spell just yet.
“Dudes, we’re running out of space here,” Bosh says.
It’s after school, and we’re trying to make room for all the loot we’ve collected. There are CDs, books, dinner certificates, a cactus (no clue who brought that in), designer clothes, spa visits, airline miles, rounds of golf, gift cards, shoes, dishes, and iPods, all new. It’s amazing how much stuff people are willing to give for a good cause. And it’s amazing how hooked up JFK students are.
“I’m trying to figure out the best place to put all this stuff. Maybe in the cupboard,” Bosh says, pointing to the massive storage area on the left side of the room. “Tammy, you want to check it out with me?”
River, Will, Kat, and I laugh. Tammy turns a deep shade of red. Bosh has been using every technique in the book to put the moves on Tammy, but she’s not budging. She IMed me last night that she absolutely can’t break up with Aaron. He’s still home sick in bed. And when he does get better, she still won’t dump him. She’s been doing a lot of research and she read that stress suppresses the immune system, and if he gets too upset, he could have a relapse. And if he has a relapse, he won’t be able to take his exams, and he’ll have to retake the entire year.
TamTam: I can’t be responsible for that!
PrincessRachel: You’re never going to break up with him? Are you going to get married?
TamTam: I just have to wait till he finishes exams in June.
PrincessRachel: But UR gonna miss prom! It’s next week.
TamTam: It’s just the prom. Not the end of the world.
Tammy is way too nice. Anyway, it’s driving Bosh crazy. Every time she turns him down, he seems to want her more. He decorates the outside of her locker with pictures from his last scuba trip. He brings her seashells. Tells her she’s prettier than a tropical fish.
“Rachel,” Will says, snapping me back to reality. “How big are the TVs? Are they going to be delivered? Where do you think we should put them?”
In a fun house? “Um, I’m not sure yet. I’ll let you know tomorrow.”
Evade, evade, evade.
I almost pull out my hair on the way home from school. With the auction, stress, and my recent frequent sightings of Relissa (that’s what the kids are calling Raf and Melissa these days), in addition to my mother, I’m surprised I’m not bald yet.
Oh yes, my mom and I are still not talking to each other. It’s been four days! We’ve never been mad at each other for this long. She hasn’t even commented on the singing TV. And I know she’s heard it. How could she not have?
At home, I find the TV still singing, and with a sinking feeling, I head to Miri’s room, which is a mess. There are papers all over the floor, notes and lists are taped to her walls, and Tigger is lounging in her still-unmade bed. She’s sitting in the center of the disaster, dumping the contents of her backpack onto the mess.
“What happened here?” I ask.
“I’m just figuring something out.”
“What are we going to do? Do we get rid of the TV? Can you find a new spell that will work? Am I supposed to sleep in your room forever because that movie will always be playing—” The phone rings, and I grab it. “Hello?”
“Is Miri there, please?” squeaks a tiny voice.
Miri has a new friend! Finally! “Sure. Who’s speaking, please?”
“It’s Ariella from school.”
“Hold on one second.” I smile and pass Miri the phone. “Ariella?” I say.
Miri shakes her head violently. “Tell her I’m busy,” she mouths.
“Why?” I mouth back.
She shoves the receiver away.
“Can I take a message?” I ask, perplexed.
“Yeah,” Ariella says. “I wanted to know if Miri wanted to come over this weekend. I’m having a sleepover.”
“I’ll let her know. Does she have your number?”
“Well, I’ve given it to her before, but she never calls me back.”
As she recites her number, I glare at my sister. “Why won’t you call her back?” I ask after hanging up.
“I don’t have time for sleepovers,” Miri says. “You know that. I can barely keep up with my homework and saving-the-world stuff. I haven’t even been to Tae Kwon Do in weeks.”
I wondered what happened to Tae Kwon Do. “You’re being crazy. And why are you wearing one white sock and one black sock?”
She eyes her mismatched feet. “Oops. I told you, I have a lot going on.” Now back to my questions. “No, you cannot sleep in my room again. You sleep with your mouth open and your breath stinks. And I haven’t found a new TV spell. I’m working on it, but I also have to figure out how to make it rain, and I need to get back to Antarctica to work on the ozone problem. And my head hurts.”
“Tell me about it.” I sit next to her and hear paper crumpling.
“Careful!” she says, annoyed.
“Sorry.” I pull the paper out from under me and am about to hand it to her when I see the red writing in the top right-hand corner: D-. What is this?
1. 8x - 2 = 14
And underneath Miri wrote: x = 1.5
Which, of course, is wrong. It’s 2, Miri. The answer is 2!
I don’t believe it. “You failed a math test?”
She grabs the paper from my hand. “I did not. D-minus isn’t failing.”
“Miri, what happened? Didn’t you study?”
“I didn’t have time, okay? What’s more important, a math test or the ozone layer?” She opens her mouth to say something else but yawns instead.
I start rummaging through her papers. “Are you having problems in all your classes?”
“Stop it. I’m fine.” She tries to lie across her papers so I can’t get to them.
I grab what looks like a book report. “C-plus? Miri, you’ve got to be kidding me.” I find a French test. An F. “Oh, Miri, come on. You have got to promise me you’ll start paying attention in school.”
She waves her hands above her head. “I’m trying. But I have a lot to do!”
“Miri, an educated witch will solve more global problems than a middle school dropout witch.”
“I’m not going to fail, all right? I’m doing my best. But I’m tired! So can you stop wasting my time? You’re in my way and I have lots to do.”
She has lost it.
We hear my mother’s key in the front door. So nice of her to come home.
“Girls?” she calls. “Can you come to the kitchen, please? I’d like to talk to you.”
Terrific. Now what? Miri follows me silently to the kitchen, where we find our mother already sitting at the table.
“Girls,” she begins, “I know that seeing me move on with my life is scary for you. Watching a parent date can be difficult for kids of any age.”
Just what I need on top of all my troubles: the Divorced Parent’s I Have a Life Too Talk. Well, at least she’s talking to me again.
Click, click. Click, click. My mother is tapping her fingernails on the table. My mother is tapping her long red fingernails on the table. When did my mother get long red fingernails?
I grab her hand to take a good look. “What are these?”
“My nails,” she says, coloring.
“No, you bite your nails. Like Miri.” I hold up my sister’s left hand. “It’s disgusting. But it’s you. So where are your nails?”
She pulls her hand away. “I fixed them, all right?”
“You went to a salon and got acrylics, or you poofed up a new set of hands?”
“Rachel, what does it matter?”
Doesn’t she get it? “It matters to me. You’re turning into a crazy woman.”
“I am not,” she says, and then, right before my eyes, she zaps up a cigarette and an ashtray. “I understand that my dating scares you. But I need you two to grow with me. I’m still your mother.” She taps her claw against her forehead. “There was something else I was supposed to talk to you about. But I can’t remember what. I have too much on my mind these days. It was something to do with your father—”
Frogs & French Kisses Page 17
