by P. J. Night
“And here’s a news flash: There’s more to life than shopping and getting your hair highlighted and your nails done. Just for the record, I like my mom’s car. We’ve had it my whole life. I like my mom’s accent. I like my bratty little brothers. And I like my hair. And my mom has better things to spend money on than tons of clothes I don’t need. Maybe you should spend a little less time worrying about your appearance and a little more time thinking about others around you. Your lives are going to be pretty empty if you keep acting this way.”
Pria grimaced.
Jess looked like she might burst into tears.
Alice was speechless.
“Alice, I’m sorry about the punch bowl,” said Kayla. “We didn’t mean to break it. I told you we had a good reason to do it, and I’ll explain later, when we’re not in a room full of people.”
“Oh, no you won’t,” said Alice, who seemed to have recovered from the shock of Kayla’s words. “I think you should leave now. And take your little boyfriend with you.”
“Hey, I’m not that little,” said Tom lightheartedly. “My feet are size eleven already, so the doctor says I’m going to be tall.”
Alice, Pria, and Jess wheeled on Tom, eyes flashing.
“Just pointing that out,” he concluded.
Suddenly Alice’s mother came clattering down the basement steps. Because of her high, wobbly heels, she was obliged to walk down sideways. “Alice!” she said, swaying slightly and catching her balance. “What happened to the punch bowl? Someone took it off the table and threw it outside, right down the front steps, and shattered it! That was expensive pottery! Do you know how much I paid for that bowl?”
Alice turned back to Kayla and Tom. She put her hands on her hips.
Alice and Kayla exchanged a look.
“I’ll tell you later, Mother,” said Alice, and her tone was cold and steely. “Just forget about the dumb punch bowl for now. This will not ruin my party, okay? But Kayla and Tom here were just leaving.”
Mrs. Grafton seemed to recover her manners. She smiled a thin, insincere smile and said brightly, “Well, I hope you two had a nice time. I had a lovely time talking to your mother, Katie. She was very informative about the admissions process at the academy. I look forward to spending more time with her! And I just adore her charming accent!”
“Thanks for a fun party, Mrs. Grafton,” said Kayla. She and Tom slipped past her and made their way up the basement stairs, Tom clumping up on his crutch.
Kayla’s mother was standing in the kitchen, wearing her coat and boots, her hand on the door to the outside.
“Mom!” yelled Kayla, bounding across the kitchen and throwing herself into her mother’s arms. “I’m so glad to see you!”
Her mother reared back in surprise, but she hugged Kayla back. “I’m so glad you’re glad,” she said.
“Can we go home with you now?”
“Oh!” said her mother. “I thought you were planning to sleep over. Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s great. Better than great. But I think I’ve had enough sleepovers for a while. This is Tom Butler from my science class,” said Kayla, releasing her mother from the hug and gesturing to Tom. “Can we drop him off at his home?”
“Of course,” said her mother.
“I’ll just run and find my boots and my coat and stuff and be right back,” said Kayla. She hurried into the front hall, took off Alice’s one boot, and placed it carefully inside the closet. No doubt they will find the other boot tomorrow, she thought. Or maybe in the spring, when the snow finally melts. With the lights back on, she found her coat and boots right away, and her bag and her flat black shoes, too. She shoved them into her bag and was back in the kitchen just moments later.
The grown-up party seemed to have drawn breath again, and Kayla was happy to see everyone talking, milling around, and looking normal once more. The tall man she’d knocked over was standing next to a platter of mini pigs-in-a-blanket, shoveling them into his mouth as though he hadn’t eaten all day. She spotted Alice’s father standing next to a potted plant, having a heated conversation with someone on his phone.
Quietly she closed the door and left.
EPILOGUE
FIVE YEARS LATER
“Wow, I haven’t been back to this neighborhood in ages,” said Kayla, clutching Tom’s arm tightly to her side as they walked down a charming little block in Fairbridge. It was a beautiful spring day. Tulips swayed in the gentle breeze in front of a modern-looking coffee bar, which took up most of the block. Across the street were several trendy clothing boutiques.
Tom stopped and looked down at her. “Kay, you do know where we are, right? It’s the same block where that store used to be. The one that Matilda used to own.”
Kayla’s jaw dropped. “You’re right. I haven’t been back to this part of town since my mom became head of admissions at the academy and they gave us an on-campus house to live in. This coffee shop used to be an antique store, and a dress store. I wonder what ever happened to Matilda? She disappeared after that Valentine’s Day.”
They were both quiet, staring at the place where Esoterica had once been, lost in their own thoughts. They’d talked a lot about the events of that fateful night five years ago. After that night, Alice, Jess, and Pria had basically stopped talking to Kayla. For a while she’d sat by herself in the cafeteria, miserable and lonely, but eventually she’d made friends with a new group of kids, through Tom, and had discovered they were pretty cool in their own way. The next year she and Tom had both been accepted at Fairbridge Academy on full scholarships. They had gone out briefly and remained friends. And this past summer, they had rediscovered each other, beyond being “just friends.”
“Hey, we’re second-semester seniors, and we both got into the same college,” said Tom. “I think we deserve to take the afternoon off from studying, don’t you? Let’s chill a little, for a change. I’ll buy you a latte.”
Kayla smiled. “Sounds good to me.”
The coffee shop was warm and inviting and smelled heavenly, like roast coffee and baking muffins. They found a table near the window and sat across from each other, holding hands.
“Have you seen those girls around much?” he asked.
Kayla knew who he meant. She shook her head. “No, I think Pria and Jess are still at Fairbridge High School. I heard Pria became pretty good at gymnastics. And Jess was into diving. But we lost touch after middle school, after I came to the academy. I saw them a couple of years ago at the mall—they looked just the same as ever, but they pretended they didn’t know me.”
“Yeah, I kind of fell out of that group of guys I used to hang out with, after my cousin Scott moved to Arizona,” said Tom. “I think he was the only reason they tolerated having me around. It was satisfying to grow to be six-three, though. I’m petty enough to admit, it was pretty cool to score twenty-eight points against Fairbridge High’s basketball team this past season, especially with Nick Maroulis trying to guard me.”
Kayla rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Tom. I don’t know what I see in you.”
“Yes, you do,” he said, squeezing both her hands in his and grinning at her with that half smile she had always loved so much. He reached across the table and lovingly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I heard that Alice’s parents sent her away, to some boarding school in Switzerland, I think,” Kayla continued. “I haven’t laid eyes on her since eighth grade. Maybe she grew up a little bit. I hope so.”
The waitress appeared at their table, holding two steaming cups, which she set down in front of them.
“What are these?” asked Tom, puzzled. “We haven’t ordered yet.”
The waitress smiled. “Two double tall, triple-vanilla, extra-caramel macchiatos, extra hot, with whipped,” she said. “Compliments of an old friend.”
Tom and Kayla exchanged surprised looks, then turned and looked around the coffee shop. The waitress left.
“Do you know anyone in here?” Ka
yla asked Tom.
“Not a one,” he replied.
“They sure smell delicious,” said Kayla, closing her eyes and breathing in the fragrant aroma of her drink.
They both lifted their cups to their lips.
Tom spat his back out. “Don’t drink it!” he hissed.
Kayla spat the sip she’d just taken back into her cup and looked at him. “What’s the matter?”
“Does that girl over there look familiar to you?”
Tom was gesturing toward the corner of the room, directly behind Kayla. She turned around in her chair.
A girl was sitting by herself at a table. She looked about twelve. Kayla whipped back around and stared at Tom.
“Is that . . . Alice?”
He nodded. “Sure looks like it.”
“But—but—how could it be? The girl over there looks like she’s only twelve or thirteen years old!”
“I know. Like she hasn’t grown a day since that night.”
Kayla’s eyes grew huge. “You don’t think . . . did Matilda . . . oh no.”
Tom picked up where she’d left off. “Matilda must have given Alice the same potion she’d been given. The one that stopped her from growing up.”
Kayla was racking her brain, trying to remember. “It must have been those green mints she gave the three of them that day. Matilda told us they were for our complexions and our hair. I remember I wanted to take one, but she wouldn’t let me have one. She told me I was a hopeless case.”
“She was protecting you from their fate.”
“Now that I think about it, that time I saw Pria and Jess at the mall? They didn’t look like they’d aged either.” Kayla passed a hand over her brow, horror written across her face.
“Don’t look. She’s standing up. She’s walking out.”
Kayla stared straight ahead. Tom looked down at his drink. The girl passed their table without a glance at them. As she pushed her way through the door, Kayla darted a look at her.
The girl was looking back at Kayla. It was definitely Alice. She was still beautiful, with her lovely, glossy hair. But her face had changed and hardened. A sinister smile played on her lips. She pulled the door closed behind her and hurried away.
“Did you swallow any of it?” asked Tom hoarsely.
“No, I don’t think so,” said Kayla. “I might have had some foam on my lip, though. I might have tasted a bit of that.” She looked at Tom, wild-eyed. “Do you think she did something to our drinks?”
Tom shrugged. “I don’t know, Kay. I guess we’ll have to wait and find out.”
One Friday night Lizzy Draper and Emmy Spencer were watching TV and eating popcorn at Lizzy’s house. This was because Lizzy didn’t seem to want to do anything else.
“Pass the popcorn, Lizzy?” Emmy asked her best friend.
Lizzy passed it over with a slightly annoyed look. “It’s Liz, remember?” she asked Emmy. “Now that I’m not five anymore?”
“Oh, right. Sorry, Liz,” Emmy mumbled. Emmy had a bad feeling in her stomach, the same feeling she’d been having for a few months now. Things were different between the lifelong best friends. There was no denying it. It was simple: Now that they were in seventh grade, Lizzy had become popular and Emmy had not. Lizzy was talking to boys, and Emmy was not. Lizzy was wearing lip gloss, and Emmy was not. Lizzy—
“Hey, you know something?” Lizzy interrupted Emmy’s thoughts. “You could maybe start going by a more mature name yourself.”
“What do you mean? Change my name?” Emmy asked.
“No, silly,” Lizzy said. “Just go by something like Em. Or Emma.”
“Em might be okay,” Emmy responded. “But my full name’s not Emma. It’s Emily.”
“Right, but Emma is much cooler,” Lizzy said, looking totally serious.
“I kind of like Em,” said Emmy. “But it would take some getting used to. Hey, I know. Instead of Liz, I could call you Lizard.” Emmy laughed at her own joke.
“Like when I was three?” Lizzy asked sarcastically.
Emmy thought it might be a good idea to change the subject. “So what are we going to be for the costume party this year?”
Lizzy paused and examined the pattern on the rug. “Oh,” she said. “I was going to tell you. I’m going to do a group costume with Cadence and Sophie.”
Ouch. Emmy tried to keep the hurt out of her voice. “But we had so much fun last year,” she said.
The costume party was part of their school’s spirit week, which was only a few weeks away. When Lizzy and Emmy were in sixth grade, they heard rumors about how competitive some of the kids got with their costumes, and they were a little scared to participate. But then Emmy had the most brilliant idea: Lizzy could dress up as a bug and Emmy could go as a can of bug spray. Lizzy had loved it and so had everyone else. They even won an honorable mention for such a creative costume—an honor very few sixth graders ever received.
Emmy had been thinking of ideas for this year’s costume for months now, but apparently it was all for nothing. At this moment, Emmy was feeling a lot like she was an actual bug and Lizzy was the spray.
“I know,” Lizzy said. “Sorry.”
Lizzy’s mom, Marilyn, poked her head into the family room. “You girls should turn off the TV soon,” she said.
“There’s nothing else to do, Mom,” Lizzy said with a hint of a whine. Emmy couldn’t help but notice that Lizzy had stopped calling her mother “Mommy,” which Emmy still called her mother. What was with all these name changes?
“I can’t believe my ears,” her mom said. “You two have always found fun things to do together at your sleepovers.” It was true. They’d make crazy concoctions in the kitchen, pretend to open up a beauty parlor, write short plays and perform them for their parents, carve bars of soap into funny shapes, and do plenty of other creative stuff.
Lizzy sighed loudly and said nothing more, finally turning off the television when it was time for dinner. The two girls sat silently at the table they had sat at together so many times before, since they were babies in high chairs. Their moms had met when they were pregnant, and because they were next-door neighbors on a street deep in the heart of Brooklyn, New York, they’d spent countless hours with their baby girls in their kitchens, out running errands, at the playground, and even on family vacations together. Lizzy and Emmy had always been inseparable, just like their moms. Until lately.
Twirling spaghetti on her fork, Emmy was lost in thought. How could she feel so lonely with her best friend beside her? Maybe it was because they weren’t really best friends anymore. That thought made her so sad she had to put her fork down. It was all she could do to keep herself from putting her head down on the table.
“What’s the matter, Emmy?” Marilyn asked.
“Nothing,” Emmy said. There was a time when she could tell Marilyn anything, and this wasn’t that time. Marilyn and Joanne, Emmy’s mom, had always depended on each other to take care of the other’s daughter in a pinch. If Joanne couldn’t get away from work and Emmy was sick at school, Marilyn would pick her up at the nurse’s office. If Marilyn had to go to a meeting out of town, Joanne would watch Lizzy until she got back. It was like each girl had two moms. Of course, it was even better than that because it was also like each girl had a sister—Lizzy was an only child, and Emmy had a little brother.
Living next door to each other had always been so much fun. The best part of all was that they could see right into each other’s bedrooms. They had all sorts of fun with this, shining laser lights or flashlights on each other’s walls in the dark and throwing things back and forth through their open windows. They did have one rule they agreed upon long ago, though: no spying.
As the girls cleared the dishes, Emmy noticed Lizzy looking at her closely. She seemed to be focused on Emmy’s long dark hair, which she wore in two braids. On the way up the stairs to Lizzy’s room, Lizzy swished one of Emmy’s braids like a horse’s tail.
“I have a great idea,” Lizzy said as the
y entered her room. “Let’s give you a makeover.”
Emmy was pleased that Lizzy wanted to do something, anything, with her. And they had played with makeup before. They used to love playing dress-up and putting on fashion shows for their parents. It would be fun. This sleepover isn’t going to be totally awful after all, Emmy thought.
“Awesome,” Emmy said, smiling. “Where’s your mom’s makeup case?” It was what they’d always used when they played dress-up.
“No makeup,” Lizzy announced, swishing Emmy’s other braid. “Hair.”
“Oh. Okay,” Emmy said, and removed the rubber band from each braid. She ran her fingers through each braid to undo it, splaying out her long pretty hair over her shoulders. Her hair was so long it almost reached her butt.
Lizzy looked at Emmy’s hair thoughtfully. “I have a vision,” she said, grinning, and left the room. “I’ll be right back.”
Emmy sat cross-legged on the floor, facing the mirror. She couldn’t wait to see what Lizzy was going to do. Would she weave a sophisticated inside-out French braid, like she did so well? Use a curling iron? She was so relieved that Lizzy seemed more like her old self that she didn’t notice what Lizzy was holding in her hand when she came back into the room.
Scissors.
Lizzy help them up like a magician’s wand. “You’re going to look great, Em,” she promised.
Emmy’s heart stopped. “Um, Liz . . .,” she stammered. “I don’t want an actual haircut. I thought you were just going to braid it or something.”
“But haven’t you noticed how badly you need one?” Lizzy asked. “We’re in seventh grade now, but your hair is stuck in fourth.”
Emmy instinctively put her hands to her hair to protect it. What would her mother say if she came home with her hair cut off? She loved her daughter’s long hair. So did Emmy, actually. She loved feeling it cover her back, she loved brushing it, she loved braiding it herself. She’d never wanted shorter hair. For her entire life Emmy had never allowed it to be cut more than an inch to get rid of split ends. It had always been long. And so had Lizzy’s light blond hair until this year, when she’d gone for a shoulder-length cut that she described as “sassier than long hair.”
