by Alex Flinn
The light turns green, and we drive on.
It seems so drastic, to abandon school, abandon my whole life on the word of one woman, one witch. Yet what choice do I have? I’ve seen this all happen. I know it’s real. Goose says he can talk his parents into letting me stay. He’s so nice. Why is this guy I barely know so nice while the person who is supposed to care about me is so horrible?
Kendra insisted on coming along to explain it all to Stacey. “They need to know what they’re getting into. It’s not just letting a friend of yours stay a few days. It’s not even the same as a foster child. They would be harboring a runaway. Your life is in danger. They’d need to keep you safe and tell no one.”
Terrific. Why would they put themselves in that kind of danger for me?
“Would it ever end?” I ask Kendra.
“At some point,” Kendra says, “Violet will have to move on. Witches always do. Then, you could start a normal life again, maybe go to college.”
It doesn’t seem like much of a plan, but there’s nothing else to do. For some reason, I keep thinking about my AP exams. I won’t even get to take them.
When we get to Goose’s house, Stacey is browning meat on the stove. Jeron is hanging in a baby swing. The other three kids are spread out at the kitchen table, doing three different homework assignments.
“Oh, you brought company.” Stacey wipes her hands on her apron. She gives Kendra’s pink prom dress a quick up-and-down look. “My son always finds such pretty girls.”
“Should I have worn something else?” Kendra whispers to me. “Is this too much? Should I change now?”
“No!” Goose and I both say, real quick.
“It’s fine,” Goose adds. “Mom, this is Kendra, and you remember Celine.”
“Of course.” Stacey moves the pan off the stove. “How have you been, dear?”
“Fine,” I say automatically. “Well, except . . .”
“That’s why we’re here, Mrs. Guzman,” Kendra says. “Celine has a big problem, and we’re hoping you can help.”
“I live to solve problems,” Stacey says.
I look to see if she’s joking, but the funny thing is, she doesn’t seem to be. Her eyes are full of concern.
“Mom, what’s an adjective?” Tyler asks.
“Stupid,” Tony says. “Stupid is an adjective. Don’t you ever do Mad Libs? It’s a word that describes someone, like fat or freckly.”
Stacey gives Tony a look. “Antonio, we don’t call anyone stupid around here.”
“I didn’t call him stupid. I just said stupid is an adjective.”
“Don’t you need help sometimes?” Stacey demands.
“I need help now,” Tony says, “with math.”
“Oh, gosh.” Stacey looks at Kendra and me. “Can you just wait one second?”
Quickly, she dumps the browned meat into a colander to drain, then she heads over to the two boys.
In the swing, Jeron laughs. Goose is so lucky to get to live with such a happy family.
Maybe I will be too.
“Can I help him with his math, maybe?” I ask.
“Oh, could you?” Stacey says. “But I thought you needed to talk to me.”
“Goose can explain. I like math.”
“Oh, good, because it’s not my favorite.” She walks back to Goose and Kendra. “What can I do for you?”
I don’t hear most of their explanation because I’m reading about the builder who needs 244 bricks to build a house and has to buy them in boxes of six. Isabella’s crayons keep rolling off the table. I almost think she’s doing it on purpose, to get my attention. Still, I keep retrieving them.
So the first thing I hear is Stacey saying, “I’m sorry, but you expect me to buy that?” She elbows Goose. “I’m sort of amazed you believe that.”
“I know it sounds crazy.” He looks up at Kendra. “Isn’t there some way you can make my mother understand, like what you did at your house, with the decorations?”
Kendra lifts her hand to her chin. “Another parlor trick, so to speak? Oh, okay. But perhaps we should go into the actual parlor—meaning the living room—so as not to freak out the children.”
“Good idea,” Goose says. They walk around the corner.
Tony’s doing better with his math, and I don’t think I’m supposed to do it for him anyway. I sort of want to know what’s going to happen. So I stand. I walk over to where the ground beef is draining and pour it back into the pan. I never get to cook at home, but Mrs. Mendez sometimes makes spaghetti with meat sauce, which I guess is what Stacey’s making. There’s a jar of sauce and a box of pasta on the counter. I don’t know if Stacey wants to add anything else to the sauce, but I find a pot and put on some water to boil.
Suddenly, from the corner of my eye, I see a commotion in the living room. Lights are flashing purple and green, sparkling like falling fireworks. Small objects fly by. I run to see what’s happening in time for everything to stop.
Kendra and Stacey are standing there with a very tall man. He’s definitely at least six four, and he definitely wasn’t there before.
“What the—?” the man says.
I do a double take, look at his face.
It’s Goose, a foot taller than Kendra, where before, he’d been a foot shorter.
“You . . . did this?” Stacey is backing away, screaming, “Put him back!”
“How do I look?” Goose peers into the mirror on the wall, but since it’s hung low, he has to bend down to see. “I can’t tell because my face looks the same—all studly and hot. But look at you down there—so cute!”
“I liked you better before,” I say. “Kendra, you have to put him back. What will people at school say?”
“They’ll make me the star of their basketball team.” Goose mimes a slam dunk.
“Put him back. Please,” Stacey says.
“Fine.” Kendra is pouting. “People say they want a demonstration. Then they get all mad when you demonstrate.”
She looks up at Goose, then goes into a sort of trance. It all repeats, the room, the lights. At the end of it, Goose is back to normal. He stares up at me.
“You could make me an inch taller, couldn’t you?” he says to Kendra. “Or maybe just give me better hair?”
She shakes her head. “That’s how Violet got started. Little things.”
“Celine, what’s an adverb?” Tyler asks from the kitchen.
“A word that modifies a verb. Sort of like an adjective. They mostly have ‘ly’ on the end. Like, ‘He grew shockingly.’ Shockingly is an adverb.”
“Thanks,” Tyler calls.
“I put on some water to boil,” I tell Stacey, who looks like she’s about to fall over. “Do you need a glass of water?”
She nods, shakily, and I go to get it. She backs up to lean on the wall.
When I come back, she’s saying to Kendra, “So you’re saying that Celine’s stepmother has . . . powers like that, and she’s going to use them to hurt Celine?”
Kendra nods. “To kill Celine.”
“Oh, sweetie.” She takes the water from me. “I’ll have to discuss it with my husband, of course.”
“That’s just a formality,” Goose says. “He never says no to you.”
“He’s right,” Stacey admits. “I still have to ask, though. But he’ll be happy to let you stay. How could we say no?”
“Thank you. I’ll help around the house. I’ll tutor the kids. I’m really good at math. I’ll—”
Stacey puts her arms around me. They only come up to about my waist, but the hug is warm and strong, like a mom’s. I lean into her. She says, “It’s okay. I know you will. You’ve been through so much. I want you to be safe. Every child deserves to be safe.”
That may be the first time anyone has ever said anything like that to me.
When Mr.
Guzman comes home he is not real happy about the idea. Kendra demonstrates her powers yet again (this time, by cleaning up the kitchen using only her mind—which I can tell Stacey appreciates). Then, they retreat to a bedroom to argue. Goose and I listen through the door.
“She’s a minor,” Goose’s father says. “We could be accused of kidnapping.”
“We’re not kidnap—”
“Doesn’t matter. You take someone else’s kid, you’re kidnapping. It’s the law. We could try to get a legal guardianship.”
“And then, everyone would know where she is,” Stacey says. “This woman already killed her mother.”
“And you believe that?” Mr. Guzman says.
“I do. And if you’re wrong, and the girl dies, how will you feel? You fight for people’s rights for a living.”
If the girl dies. Me. I’m the girl. My whole life depends on the outcome of this conversation. The outcome of this conversation and Kendra, which is a scary thought.
Next to me, Goose whispers, “He’s a lawyer, unfortunately. My mom can talk him into anything, though.”
Mr. Guzman says, “I know I do. I’m trying to protect my family here. You want to protect the whole world.”
“Yes, I do!” Stacey yells. “It takes a village, Jorge.”
“Why do we always have to be the elders of the village?”
“Someone has to be!”
“We don’t even know this girl,” he says.
“Maybe we should put the sauce on,” Goose whispers. “I’m thinking we can probably still hear them from the kitchen.”
“Good idea.” I’m not sure I want to hear them.
“Your son knows her,” Stacey says. “Are you saying you don’t trust his judgment?”
“He’s seventeen. He sees a pretty girl and—”
“Come on!” Goose takes my hand and hustles me to the kitchen before I can hear what he does when he sees a pretty girl. Kendra is sitting at the table helping with homework, her pink tulle skirt puffing out over the tabletop. The boys are finished with what they were doing and are on to a history assignment, which is the same for both of them. Kendra is holding crayons while Isabella colors.
“You’re pretty smart,” Goose says.
“I’ve done high school thirty-seven times,” Kendra says. “I enroll whenever I get bored. If I went to your high school, I’d be the valedictorian without even using magic.”
Goose laughs. “I may need some help with chemistry then.”
“We can study together,” I say before I remember that maybe I won’t be studying, won’t even be going to school.
“Your dress is so pretty.” Isabella pets Kendra’s poufy skirt.
“If you do a good job, I’ll make one just like it for you,” Kendra says.
“I think she usually adds an onion to the spaghetti sauce,” Goose says.
I find an onion and a knife to start chopping it up. Tears fill my eyes, and I pretend it’s the onion. I want to stay in this warm, safe house with Goose’s warm, safe family. But I wish I didn’t need to. I wish I could go back in time to when I was eight years old and everything didn’t suck.
Kendra comes up behind me and whispers, “It’s okay. If they say no, we’ll think of something else. You’re safe. I’ll make sure of it.”
But that’s when Stacey comes into the kitchen and says, “You can stay with us.”
“You talked Dad into it?” Goose asks.
“I didn’t have to talk him into it,” Stacey says. “He knew it was the right thing to do. Right, Jorge?”
He walks in behind her. “I can’t ignore someone in trouble. Welcome to the family, Celine.” He sticks out his hand. “Don’t get us sent to jail.”
I wipe the onion juice off on my jeans before offering my own hand. “I won’t.”
That night, Kendra invites me to visit her house after school tomorrow. She does it loudly, in front of Violet. “In fact,” she says, “I can drive you to school in the morning too.”
She tells me to pack any items I really want in my backpack. “Nothing Violet would notice missing. You’re supposed to be dead. I might be able to bring you some other things later, but it’s better to be safe. Violet is a powerful witch, so I’m not sure what I can slip past her. Take your favorite things.”
It’s amazing in a situation like that, how few things matter. I take photographs of my mom and dad, a bracelet my father bought me made of tiny golden seashells, some clothes, underwear, and toiletries. I take all my saved-up birthday money in case I need anything else, or for an emergency.
Last, I go to the computer and print photos off my phone: Laurel and me, wearing matching I ™ Jonah T-shirts, me and Goose at Target. I put the latest Jonah Prince album on a disc. I delete the photos of Goose from the hard drive so Violet won’t know about him.
I hand my phone to Kendra.
“I guess I can’t use this anymore.”
Kendra shakes her head. “Stacey knows you’re coming tomorrow, late morning. She’s ready for you.”
I’ve already told Laurel I’m moving in with my aunt in Tennessee. I told her I’ll be living in the mountains with little internet access. “I was thinking maybe you should make a sign that says, ‘Dare to eat a peach,’” I told her.
“I’m not going,” she said.
“You should. Take someone else. Just, you know, think of me when you’re there.”
She sighed. “This sucks.”
I can’t believe I’m not going to see Jonah.
Now I ask Kendra, “Can I write to Laurel ever?”
“Not for now,” Kendra says. “It’s too risky. What if her mother ran into Violet and said they’d heard from you?”
“That’s unlikely. Her mother hates Violet.”
“It’s possible,” Kendra says. “I’ll help Laurel to . . . forget you.”
“Just what I want, my best friend to forget me.”
“I know, dear. I’m sorry.” She’s said it a hundred times. I know she blames herself. I can’t say I don’t blame her for parts of it. But she’s the only person who can help me now. At least, I hope she can.
“How are you going to withdraw me from school? You’re not a relative.”
Kendra looks down a second like she’s deep in thought. Her dark hair cascades over her eyes. When she looks back up again, the eyes that meet mine are Violet’s. Her whole face is. And her hair transforms from brown to auburn. “They won’t know that.”
It’s sort of terrifying. I want to go back to that time in my life when I knew nothing about magic, when I didn’t suspect it existed.
I look around the room. This will be my last night going to sleep here. I’ve lived here my whole life. I lived here with my mother, back when I was happy. I wonder if I’ll ever be happy again.
I guess it’s up to me now. I have Goose’s family to protect me. But I need to protect them too—from Violet.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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15
The next morning, Kendra, disguised as Violet, takes me to school. I don’t say good-bye to Violet, who is crying in her room. I amble down the stairs and to the front door, taking in each wall, each rug, each stick of furniture. I know I’ll never be here again. When I get outside, I pause. The yellow birdhouse I built with Dad when I was ten hangs in our Hong Kong orchid tree, uninhabited. We had wrens last year, but now, they’re gone. I walk over to the tree. I glance up at Violet’s window to make sure she isn’t watching me. Nothing. I pull down the birdhouse from the tree.
“I’m ready,” I say when I get in the car.
Kendra is wearing one of Violet’s favorite work suits, black skirt with a bright purple jacket. She doesn’t drive the car. It sort of drives itself. Sh
e doesn’t even put her hands on the wheel.
I watch as the car stops for a school bus with no input from Kendra. “So Violet thinks you’re just going to take me to your house after school to kill me?”
“Pretty much.”
I feel a chill go up my arms. I remember Violet, when I was a kid, taking me to the park to feed the ibises, how I used to laugh as they pecked at the crumbs with their slender beaks, and Violet told me they were the first birds to come out after a hurricane. She didn’t hate me then. How could she hate me so much now? What would be happening had Kendra not intervened? What if Violet finds out?
“Thank you,” I say. “I know this is hard for you.”
Kendra strokes my arm where the little hairs are standing on end. “I wish I had done more, sooner. I loved Violet so much I didn’t see it, didn’t see what she’d become. Love can blind us.”
We’re at school now. The car steers itself into the parking lot, and we get out.
“Act like you like me, so no one gets suspicious.” Violet—Kendra takes my hand.
I pull away. “If we held hands, that would be suspicious. No girl my age would hold hands with her stepmother.”
I walk ahead of her to the office.
When she finally gets someone to help her, she says, “I’m Violet Columbo. I’m withdrawing my daughter from school.”
“Withdrawing from school? Why?” The woman’s eyes immediately go to my waist. Oh, God, she thinks I’m pregnant.
“I mean she’s transferring to another school. Here.” Kendra reaches into her purse and pulls out Violet’s driver’s license along with a sheet of paper.
The lady looks at the paper. “Tennessee. Far away. We’re sorry to see you go.”
I look sad. It’s not hard. I am sad. My whole life is over, school, taking drama next year, seeing my friends. It’s almost like Violet is killing me, killing everything about me. I feel my face get hot around the eyes.
But, soon enough, it’s over and I’m back in the car with a Kendra who looks like Kendra again. “What happens when my info goes to that other school?”
Kendra wrinkles her nose. “What other school?”
“The one in . . .” I realize what she means. “Oh, I see.”
