Cursed at First Sight

by Daphne DeWitt

  “You can’t be serious. Christmas isn’t for months,” I told her, earning an eye roll from her.

  Checking her nails, she shook her head. “I wasn't serious, Calamity. I'm here to help you solve my murder, duh.” Roughly running my hands through my hair, I closed my eyes and tried to avoid the headache I knew her voice would give me.

  “Wait, what do you mean solve your murder? I mean I’ve never been murdered before, but I just thought you should know who killed you, you know since you were there and all,” I told her, sarcasm oozing from every word.

  When she didn't answer with a snarky comeback, I turned around and saw that she was gone. She was no help as usual.

  Shaking my head and mumbling to myself, I pulled my phone from my black leather purse. I needed to call someone to pick me up. Agnes was dead to me; Abigail wouldn't help me anyway, and Christopher didn't exactly have anywhere to put a phone while in bird form.

  Finding Sadie’s name in my contact list, I hit it and placed the phone to my ear.

  “Hello,” Sadie said into the phone in her perfect sing-song voice.

  “Sadie, Agnes left me at Mrs. Abernathy's, and I need you to come pick me up,” I said, placing my blazer and purse on the ground while I slipped out of my shoes. I knew I was outside and Mrs. Abernathy's neighbors could see me, but at the moment I didn't care. I was sweating bullets, and my feet felt like they were going to fall off.

  “I’ll be right over,” she said, hanging up.

  Picking up my things, I made my way to Mrs. Abernathy's porch and peeked in the window that leads to the living room. Mrs. Abernathy was sleeping like a rock. The peaceful look on her face made me highly consider using the sleep spell on myself. After everything that was going on, I sure could use a good night's sleep.

  Sitting on the front step, I thought about that mysterious symbol in the attic. If I was going to find out what it was and its meaning it was going to be in one of Grandma Misty's millions of books at the house. It was like she had started a library.

  So many weird things had begun to happen in Cat’s Cradle, well weirder than usual. But, the symbol etched on the wall was freaking me out the most. I knew it should have been the ghost of the dead girl haunting me, but it wasn’t.

  Even though I had absolutely no idea what that symbol represented, I knew it wasn't good at all. I had this nagging feeling it was somehow connected to Allison's death. Why else would she have shown up just after I found it?

  Watching cars pass, I saw a familiar, but a very unwelcome sports car. It was as ostentatious as he was and the black paint shined in the sun just like his designer shoes. Sadie wasn't coming to pick me up, Daniel Price was.

  Gritting my teeth, I stood up as he sped up the driveway. Not bothering to put on my shoes or blazer, I walked to his car. I didn’t care about impressing him.

  Rolling down the window, he stuck his elbow out of it causing his gold watch to shimmer and almost blind me. Lowering his sunglasses, he let out a whistle. “I’m loving this look,” he called to me, loud enough for everyone in Cat’s Cradle to hear. Maybe even the whole state.

  “Why are you here?” I asked.

  His mouth curled up in his signature smirk causing me to cringe. That was my signature look when he was around. “Would you believe me if I said I was in the neighborhood?” he asked, leaning his head back on the headrest.

  “No. Now answer my question,” I replied, stuffing my blazer into my bag.

  “Sadie was coming to get you, but she said I showed up at the perfect time because she needed to help Abigail with something,” he said, leaning over to open the passenger door from the inside, “Get in.”

  “Just perfect,” I mumbled, walking around the car and climbing inside. There was one upside to being around Daniel, and that was that I wasn’t happy, so everyone was safe.

  As long as I had to deal with him, my family members didn't have to worry about unexplained fires or huge zits on their faces. So, there was that, but I still didn't like him. Not even a little bit.

  13

  The smell of his cologne filled the car, making me want to hang my head out of the window like a dog. I felt like it was sinking into my pores. Coughing, I waved my hands dramatically in front of my face.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his tone telling me that he really didn’t care about the answer.

  “I’ll be fine when I get out of this car. They should put a warning on that cologne and give you a complimentary gas mask for the people around you to wear,” I managed to get out in between coughs.

  “Dramatic much?” he asked.

  I could feel him roll his eyes behind his way too expensive sunglasses. Digging through my purse, I pulled out my white sunglasses I bought from the five and dime years ago. They weren’t fancy, but they worked. Ignoring his question, I focused on the popular country song billowing from the speakers.

  “Nice glasses,” he said, his fingers drumming on the smooth leather steering wheel. Fidgeting with them, I tried to ignore him again. I knew that not having to talk to him would make the car ride seem shorter. I only wanted to talk to him when it was necessary.

  “This is where you say ‘oh thank you, Daniel, I like your glasses as well,” he said, holding his nose as he tried to mock my voice.

  I tried to bite my tongue, but I couldn’t. “Are you indicating I have a nasally voice?” I asked, turning in the seat to face him.

  “Yes, I am. You have to know that your voice is absolutely maddening.”

  He was the world’s rudest man. Tapping my bare foot on his floorboard, I considered opening the car door and jumping out while it was still moving. I wanted the car ride to end immediately.

  “Your face is maddening,” I replied, spewing out a comeback that a fifth grader could beat. Closing my eyes, I cringed inwardly.

  “I know,” he said, checking out his face in the mirror. Taking off his glasses and winked at himself. “A lot of people think perfection is a gift, but it's actually a curse,” he said like he was letting me in on some huge secret

  Little did he know my sister was the walking poster child for perfection. I had a front row seat to perfection every day, and he wasn't even close to perfect.

  “Admit it, Suzie Q, you think I'm beautiful.”

  I didn’t care how handsome he was. He was not my main concern. The glowing symbol and Allison's unexpected visit were my main concerns. Glancing over at the speedometer, I saw that he was moving a mile a minute.

  “Why are you driving so slowly? We should have been to my house yesterday!” I exclaimed, watching the speedometer drop even lower. He was intentionally going at the speed of a snail to aggravate me, so I laid my head back and closed my eyes. Maybe if he thought I was asleep, he would stop talking.

  “I know you’re not asleep, Suzie Q. You were talking to me five seconds ago,” he said, snickering.

  I kept playing dead because I thought he would eventually get tired of talking to himself. Boy was I wrong.

  “You think you are not engaging in conversation with me will make me stop talking? It won't because I love to hear myself talk.”

  Of course, he did. He loved everything about himself. I couldn't count the number of times I caught him staring at himself in the mirror.

  “Is he always this annoying?” a woman’s voice asked from the backseat. Slowly turning around, I saw Allison laying across the backseat with her hand over her eyes. Glancing at Daniel, I saw that he was still talking to himself and completely oblivious to the dead girl in his car.

  I couldn’t answer her with words because I couldn’t risk Daniel finding out that I had suddenly turned into the little boy from the Sixth Sense.

  “He can’t hear you over the sound of his already overly-inflated ego inflating,” she said, sitting up and watching him talk to himself.

  I still didn’t talk to her.

  “You can talk, Calamity. He can’t hear anything you say to me,” she said, rolling her eyes and flipping her hair back like she had
so many times before.

  “How is that possible?" I asked, looking in Daniels direction to see if she was right about him not being able to hear our conversation. He didn’t have a clue anything was going on around him.

  “How am I supposed to know?” she asked, flinging her hand in frustration.

  She was no help as usual. It was one of her less than stellar character traits. Who was I kidding? All of her character traits were less than stellar.

  “I don’t know maybe because you’re the dead girl haunting me. I was not happy to see you by the way,” I replied, wondering what I ever did to deserve being alone in a car with Daniel Price and Allison Talbot at the same time. I couldn’t think of anything that I had done that was that bad.

  “We prefer deceased, thank you very much. I have no idea why you can see me. One minute I was torturing other spirits and the next, I'm back in Cat's Cradle talking to you on Mrs. Abernathy's porch. I wasn't excited to see you either,” she said, giving me a fake pageant girl smile.

  She had been in every pageant from Cat's Cradle to Timbuktu. Allison Talbot was a pageant coach's dream and everyone else's nightmare. She was beauty personified and knew it. She knew how to walk like a winner, how to talk like a winner, and how to just stand there silently like a winner. She even knew how to answer those stupid questions with the perfect amount of ambiguity as to not possibly offend anyone. I competed against her for the title of Miss Cat's Cradle's Cat's Meow, but not because I wanted to. Grandma Misty insisted that I needed to get out of the house more and do more than create my own spells and concoct my potions. She wouldn't listen to me when I tried to tell her I didn't want to do it and I wouldn't win, but she wouldn't listen. She told me I was born a winner and I could do anything I put my mind too. I didn't make it past the top fifteen. Allison won it, and she never let me forget it.

  I didn't want to win but losing to her made me miserable. The only upside to the night was that Grandma Misty won one thousand dollars on a scratch off ticket that she found in the yard.

  “Why do you make that weird face when you space out?” she asked, giggling.

  I was in no mood to deal with her. If she was going to bug me, she was going to answer my questions.

  “Do you know anything about the glowing symbol etched into Mrs. Abernathy’s attic wall?”

  She looked down at wrist and pretending to check her nonexistent watch. “See ya!” she said before disappearing into thin air.

  She was totally doing that on purpose.

  “Why do you look so angry, Suzie Q?” Daniel asked, turning into my driveway.

  I had never been so happy to see that house in my life. I couldn’t wait to take a bubble bath, put on pajamas, and try to find the symbol in one of Grandma Misty’s books.

  “Because you haven’t stopped talking. Not once.”

  He put the car in park and unbuckled his seatbelt. Watching him get out of the car, I had no idea what was running through his mind. “What are you doing?” I don't need you to walk me to the door if that's what you're doing,” I said, getting out of the car and slamming the door as hard as I could.

  “I was not walking you to the door. I’m staying for dinner,” he said, making his way to the front door.

  “Oh, no you don’t. I don’t remember me inviting you to stay for dinner,” I told him, running to get in front of him and blocking the doorway.

  He looked at me with humor in his eyes. I knew what he was thinking; he was thinking that he could move me out of the way without breaking a sweat. He was much taller than me, I mean his shadow was even bigger than me, but he didn't know that I was a witch and I could have taken him down with my pinky finger and a spell.

  “I never said that you invited me. Your Grandma Misty did because, unlike you, she's a people person and very kind. You, on the other hand, are vicious,” he said, knocking on the door behind me.

  “Malady Norwood! That is not how we treat our guests,” Grandma Misty exclaimed, pushing me out of the way without even touching me.

  Daniel smiled at Grandma Misty as he walked past me.

  He wasn’t my guest he was Grandma Misty’s and that meant that she was the one that had to put up with him.

  I wondered if everyone would notice if I didn’t show up for dinner.

  14

  “Do you hate me?” Agnes asked, peeking her head in my room.

  I ignored her as I went over the paperwork for Mason’s case. She didn’t deserve for me to talk to her. I wasn’t upset with her for leaving me when we found the symbol (even though I could have died) I was upset with her for making me suffer through a horrendous car ride with Daniel and Allison.

  “Listen, I’m sorry. I was scared,” she said, sitting on the edge of my bed. Peeking up at her, I saw that she was looking down at the floor.

  It was so hard to stay mad at Agnes because she was so sweet. She looked miserably guilty, and it was starting to make me feel bad. It was so much easier to have stayed mad if it would have been Abigail instead of Agnes.

  Sighing, I scooted over to her and hugged her. “It’s fine. I forgive you.”

  Lifting her head, her eyes met mine, and she smiled with everything she had. “Really? You’re not mad at me anymore?” she asked, bouncing on the bed causing it to squeak.

  “I'm not mad anymore, Aggie. Being around Daniel just puts me in a very bad mood,” I told her, tossing myself back on the bed. She followed after me. “After dinner, I need you to help me find that symbol in one of Grandma Misty's books.”

  “Okay.”

  Heavy footsteps stomped down the hall and stopped in front of my room. The white door flung open revealing a livid Abigail. She charged toward the bed and shot Agnes a look so terrifying, Agnes roll off the bed and hit the floor.

  “What do you want?” I asked, throwing my pillow at her. She snapped her fingers, and it hit me across the face. Pillow fights in our family were brutal.

  She tried to mouth something to me. I knew what she was saying; she wanted Agnes to give their voice, but I couldn't help but mess with her.

  “I can’t read lips, Abby. You know this,” I told her, looking as serious as I possibly could.

  Agnes got up and brushed herself off. “What are you trying to tell us?” she asked her sister, pretending to strain to read her lips.

  Her facial expression read that she was as angry as a hornet. She once again tried to mouth to us what she wanted. We already knew, but it was funny watching her break a sweat.

  She clenched her hands and stomped her foot before walking out of the room. I knew it wouldn’t be long until she got the voice back and wanted to argue with me, but I didn’t care. I was a seasoned pro in dealing with the wrath of Abigail.

  “That was hilarious,” Agnes said, tears running down her face and holding onto her stomach.

  Laughing, I heard something hit my window. Getting up to investigate, I saw Christopher in the form of a hummingbird. That was a new one.

  Sliding the window frame up, I watched as his wings flapped until he was inside. He landed on the floor before transforming into his human form.

  “Why do you guys look so happy? Have you been messing with Abby again?” he asked, trying to appear like he disapproved of us joking around with Abigail, but his smile gave him away.

  Abigail tortured him when we were children.

  “Dinner is ready,” Sadie said, smiling at us as she passed by the door. And she did it perfectly.

  “Why did she get the good curse? I strongly dislike her,” Christopher said, narrowing his eyes at the spot where Sadie stood only seconds earlier. “That’s not fair. I love her, but I strongly dislike the hand she was dealt. It’s not fair.

  I wasn't aware there was anything considered a “good curse,” but I didn't dwell on it too long. The curses laid on us were all different. I might have thought of Sadie’s perfection as a charm rather than a curse, but maybe there was something else to it. Maybe having perfect skin and being able to eat anything you wanted without
having to worry about ever gaining a pound got old after a while. I’d have certainly liked to test that theory but, as they say, the cookie didn’t crumble that way.

  It didn’t matter. I had to figure out what the symbol meant and why Allison was haunting me, but first I had to make it through a dinner with Daniel.

  Abigail popped back in the room and pulled Agnes down to their room. Christopher gave me a look letting me know he was thinking the same thing I was. We both wanted Agnes to keep the voice, but we knew it wasn’t going to happen.

  Walking down the stairs, we walked into the dining room.

  Daniel was sitting at the head of the table like a king on his throne. “Why is he sitting in your seat, Grandma Misty?” I asked, already aggravated with Daniel and he hadn’t even spoken yet.

  That was the thing about him he didn’t have to do anything to get on my nerves he just did. He was infuriating.

  “Because he is our guest and I told him he could,” she said, her tone scolding me like I was a five years old. I admit that that’s how I was acting, but I didn’t care. I didn’t like him.

  “He’s your guest,” I corrected her, sitting in my usual seat beside Abigail. I never talked back to my grandmother because she was the person I looked up to the most. It had always been that way.

  Her eyebrows shot up, and she pursed her lips. She wasn’t happy with me. “And that’s my chair.”

  “She told you,” Christopher said, stuffing cornbread in his mouth.

  “Christopher Norwood! Stop acting like an animal. You are a human boy,” Grandma Misty screeched, popping him on the back of his head causing cornbread to spray from his mouth. “At least for now.”

  “Oh, Grandma Misty, you know he’s always wanted to be a real boy,” Abigail said, dodging the flying cornbread.

  Christopher wiped his mouth and glared at his sister. “Why are you in such a sour mood? Bobby break up with you again?”