“Gotta go shopping. Need to get supplies for our project.”
She looks good in her matching tracksuit and fresh makeup. Obviously she planned for a sleepover. I, on the other hand, did not.
“I have to go home and shower first.”
Abby starts to protest, gives me a once-over, and then nods. “Yeah, you do.”
It’s better if she drives me home anyway. Pulling up in my driveway with Luca wouldn’t go over well no matter how easygoing Mom is. I text Ethan.
Leaving, you still here? Going shopping with Abby. Wanna come?
(puke face emoji) LOL No, I’m good. Catch ya later, hottie
Then I go to say goodbye to Luca who is only partially awake on the couch. He smiles as I walk in.
“Morning again.” He pushes himself up. “It’s early.”
“Yeah, but I need to go. Abby’s going to drive me. We’ve got some work to do for our marketing project.”
Luca nods, then lies back down. “I heard something about that project of yours. Love spells or something?”
“More like crush spells, but yeah. It’s just for fun.” I wave it off like it’s nothing and then wonder why I’m lying to him.
Because you like him too much to lose him and if you tell him that your spells are working, he’s going to think you’re weird.
Oh…riiiiight. That.
I lean down and give him a kiss. Just a soft one. “I’ll text you later, okay?”
“Sounds good. Have fun with Abby.” No snark. No tone. He says it like that’s normal. Like it’s possible to have fun with Abby. As if we’re friends.
As if.
Why is this so weird? I’m Luca’s girlfriend, so I’m in. In with these seniors who are all popular, and me, I’m here, too, and it’s totally normal. Right?
What’s not normal is arriving home to find my mom not only awake but dressed, looking a little more than upset as I start to head up the stairs.
“Rowan!” She shoots a look at Abby, clearly caught off guard that someone else is here with me. “We need to talk.”
“What are you doing up so early?” Mom loves to sleep. She’s a sleep hog—her words, not mine. Sleeping in on Saturdays is kinda her thing and since our bedrooms are on entirely different floors, it seemed safe to assume we wouldn’t cross paths until later today.
“Hi, Ms. Marshall. I’m Abby, Rowan’s friend.” Abby, apparently unfazed whatsoever by my mom’s look of displeasure, holds her hand out for my mom to shake. She’s so bubbly that Mom can’t do anything but go along with it.
“Hi Abby, nice to meet you.” She gives Abby a once-over and I can see the look of utter confusion on her face. “I haven’t seen you around before, have I?”
“Probably not, no.” Abby laughs. “I’m a bit of a scaredy-cat. Thought your house was haunted.”
“Oh, well, it is, but the ghosts won’t hurt you.” My mom says with her usual deadpan expression. “Nice to meet you, Abby. Rowan’s bedroom is up the stairs, first door on the left. I need to talk to my daughter for a few minutes.”
Uh-oh.
“Sure thing, Ms. Marshall.” Abby gives me an oh crap grimace before heading upstairs. I follow Mom into the kitchen.
My mom never gets mad at me. Annoyed, sure. Disappointed here and there, but that’s not often, either.
I can tell as I walk behind her, with the way her shoulders are set and her neck muscles tense, that she’s pretty mad.
“Ethan’s dad dropped by this morning.”
Crap.
She stands next to the stool on the other side of the island. Her coffee is still steaming but there’s a second mug off to the side.
“He figured Ethan was over here, wanted to pick him up and take him out for breakfast. His Jeep wasn’t at home or here so he rang the bell…woke me up.”
My fingers itch to text Ethan a warning. I don’t dare make a move for my phone, though.
I slide onto the stool across from her.
“So where’d you stay last night?”
“Malcolm Malone’s.”
She makes a face. “Who’s that?”
“Some kid at school. He was having a party. Ethan and I got an invite.”
“And you didn’t think that was something you should tell me?”
“I didn’t think it would bother you.” Partial lie. I knew it would bother her if Luca came to pick me up and then I didn’t come home all night. “I’m sorry.”
Mom’s face softens. “Ro, we’re a team aren’t we? You tell me where you’ll be, and I won’t be too much of a helicopter. That’s the deal. Right?”
I nod. I feel that tug of guilt. I shouldn’t have let her worry, even for a second. Not after what she went through with Dad. She’s not the kind of mom to put unnecessary restrictions on me. “I should have told you. I wasn’t expecting to stay there all night.”
“But you were with Ethan?”
I hold her stare, locked in and unblinking because she thinks eye contact is the best way to tell if someone’s lying. “Yep.” Kinda. “He’s still there, though. I should text him to let him know his dad is looking for him.” I pull out my phone.
“His dad found him already. Ethan and him were texting. He just left here to go meet him.”
Oh. I glance at my phone. Not a peep from Ethan. Hmmm.
“It’s not like you to want to go to a party like that. Anything else I should know about?” She nods toward the stairs. “What’s up with Barbie-girl?”
“Abby? We’re working on a marketing project together.” I hop up from the stool. “Speaking of which, we need to buy some supplies for our booth for tomorrow. Is it okay if I go? It’ll only be a few hours.”
My mom rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to ask permission to leave. You know that. I just need to know where you’re going.”
I slide around the island and give her a kiss on the cheek. “I know, Mom, and I am sorry I didn’t keep you in the loop. But there’s nothing else going on. Promise.”
She smiles. Nods. Completely believes me.
Why wouldn’t she? Up until this moment I have never really lied to her, not like this.
I should tell her about Luca. Instead, I walk out of the kitchen feeling like a scumbag but also feeling like what Luca and I have is so new and I need to protect it. Even from my mother. Or maybe especially from my mother.
Abby gets us to the plaza about ten minutes faster than it should take us. Her driving is a little scary. But we get there and grab what we need. Poster board, decorations, ribbons, peachy-pink origami paper…all the things Abby says are necessary to make our booth the most enticing.
“Don’t you think word of mouth will work well enough?” I’m shoving a bag of tissue paper into her trunk. “I mean, we’re doing okay just in the library.”
“We have to explain our sudden success, don’t we? Mr. Tremmel will get suspicious if we don’t look like we’re putting in the effort.” She motions to the coffee shop. “I need food and caffeine. Let’s take a break before we get to work.”
My stomach has been grumbling for a while now so I don’t protest break time even if it does mean hanging out with Abby for longer than I want to. She might be acting tolerably nice to me but I don’t delude myself into thinking it’s genuine.
“You and Luca make a cute couple,” Abby says after ordering some mocha java non-fat something or other. “He seems happy, too.”
I have my drink in hand already because it’s just black coffee, nothing fancy. “You knew Shelley?”
Okay, I know that this is low. I don’t actually want to spend time with Abby and yet I do want to pick her brain about Luca’s ex. I guess now I’m using her, too.
Abby rolls her eyes. “Duh.” The guy behind the counter calls her name so she goes to retrieve her complicated drink. “She’s nice. Lotsa fun. Easy to g
et along with.” Abby lets that one hang for a minute. She takes a drink and moans. “That’s what I needed.”
One of the servers brings us our warmed and buttered muffins. My stomach yowls at the delicious smell.
“Luca was really dedicated to her. Did whatever she wanted. Sometimes I think, and this is just my opinion, that she was a little mean to him but…” She shrugs. “She was hot as hell so that kind of canceled out the meanness.” She takes another long sip of her drink. “We were shocked when they broke up. They’ve known each other since they were kids, so we thought they’d be one of those couples who would go off and get married straight out of high school.”
The tasty muffin turns to sawdust in my mouth as my thoughts circle back to the fear that I’m just a rebound. He said I’m different from other girls. Does that mean different from Shelley? Is that even a good thing? Is he just using me to get over her?
“But you two are cute together. Seems like you’re getting along.” She’s got her phone out and is scrolling through her texts. “Besides, he’s been so mopey lately that it’s great to see him smiling again.”
That makes me feel better.
“Even if it’s just a fling.”
That does not. “A fling?”
She looks up from her phone, her face scrunched up like I should know this already. “You can’t tell me it’s going to go anywhere. Luca is, well, Luca. Super gorgeous, super talented, super popular. And you’re, well, you.” She shrugs. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re not ugly or anything.” She laughs. “But you don’t exactly fit in. You’re a little too ‘unique’.” She air quotes the last word.
Ouch. “Okay, break’s over.” I shove the rest of my muffin into my mouth.
“What? I’m not saying anything you don’t already know.” Abby pouts. “Right?”
I hop down from my stool and move to the counter so I can put a lid on my coffee. All the insecurities I have about why someone like Luca would choose someone like me are surfacing. I want to text him. I want to punch Abby. Instead, I wipe the crumbs off of my face and walk out of the shop. The worst part is she’s not wrong. I know he’s out of my league, but hearing someone else say it so bluntly makes it all the more real.
I should take the bus back home. Or call Mom to come and pick me up. Maybe Ethan has finished breakfast with his dad and he’ll come get me.
“Stop being so sensitive, sheesh.” Abby steps out of the coffee shop. “Before we go, I need to show you something.” She’s on her phone again, scrolling quickly.
“I’m pretty done with the bonding time, Abby. Let’s get out of here.”
“Wait, no, I just want to double check…right…yes, it’s here.” She looks up from her phone and scans at the storefronts across the street.
I don’t get what’s she’s looking for. There’s a bookstore, a candy shop, a pharmacy, and the candle store. Nothing we haven’t probably both seen a million times already.
“Let’s go.” She tugs me across the street, not overly concerned with the traffic that we’re weaving through to get there.
“Abby, what the hell?”
She tugs my arm until we’re standing outside the candle store. “Here, we have to go in.”
“To the candle store?” Huh?
“It’s not a candle store, silly.” She pushes open the door and a chime rings. The smell of lavender hits me along with the realization of what the store actually is.
“It’s a spell shop, Ro. For witches.”
Chapter Twelve
I do not want to be here.
This is the kind of store my mom would shop at. Or where her clients and fans would shop. It’s the kind of store that believers of things that are unbelievable go. Definitely not a place I need to be. “We’re not witches.”
“No, but you’re a spell caster, obviously.” She leans in closer to me. “I’ve tried to write one of the damn spells and it doesn’t work for me. It doesn’t work when Mel does it, either. We checked. Twice.”
My stomach hits the floor and then keeps going. No. Nope. That can’t be right. It can’t only be me. “You did?”
“Yes,” she hisses. “So you’re the special one, okay? I mean, really, out of the two of us, you would be the one able to make a spell work.”
Why, because of my mom? I bristle at the comparison. And because she says “special” like an insult and I know nothing about this conversation is meant to be supportive.
“Maybe you did something wrong.” My throat is so dry that the words are barely coming out. “T-t-that’s why the spell didn’t work for you.”
“No, I didn’t.” Abby narrows her eyes. “I copied it right from the book, just like you do. It didn’t work.”
I lift my thumb to my mouth and chew at my skin. I’m not capable of magic. That’s simply ridiculous. I mean, sure, the spells I’ve written seem to be working but that can’t be just because I wrote them. Can it? I sweep my gaze over the shelves in front of us. “Why are we here?”
“Hello, ladies. Can I help you find something?” A tall, willowy woman approaches us from the back of the shop. Everything about her flows, from her pastel colored skirt to her white blouse, to her long black hair. She’s smiling but not really smiling as she gives us both a once-over. “We have a sale on scented candles today.”
“Oh, no thank you, we’re not here for candles.” Abby puts on her sweetest voice as she turns to greet the woman. “We’re here for the witchy stuff.”
The woman’s eyes narrow. Her smile gets tighter. “Oh?”
“Yeah, the spells and stuff.” Abby tugs my arm and then moves off to the side, bypassing the woman by going down one of the front aisles.
I look at the woman, who’s watching Abby. I can’t quite pin down how old she is. From the side she looks like she could be my mom’s age, but when she turns back to me there’s wisdom in her eyes that makes me think she’s much, much older. “What kind of spells are you two looking for?”
“Love spells,” I mumble.
Her eyes take on that knowing look, like she’s not overly surprised that that’s why we’re there. “Love spells can be tricky.”
“Yeah, well, we’ve already mastered one.” Abby comes back for me, tugging my arm harder so I have to follow her. “I found the books, let’s go.”
I give the woman an apologetic shrug, then follow Abby to the back of the store. The scents change as we move, from lavender to patchouli to mint. The candles are so fragrant that I think the smell is seeping into my clothes and hair, even my skin. There are three rows of shelves of candles that front the store but once we get closer to the back, the content of the shelves changes.
There are pendants and pendulums, tarot card decks and dried herbs. Bowls made out of dark stone. Mortar and pestles. Gems. Crystals. Too much to take in with one glance but exactly the kind of stuff I do not want to be around. This is the kind of stuff Mom uses in her experiments sometimes and it’s dredging up all kinds of gurgly, twisty-turny feelings that are not unfamiliar but are very unwelcome.
The muffin I ate sits heavy in my stomach and my knees shake. I need to sit—not in here…in the car…as we’re driving away.
“Here, look through these.” Abby hands me two books.
They don’t look like the books from our school library. They’re leather bound and feel old and heavy. She’s pulled them down from a high shelf, above more modern looking texts. I flip open one of the books in my hand. There’s a waft of something musty. The writing is tight and scrawly. Cursive that’s almost impossible to read and looks like it was written with a calligraphy pen. There are sketched pictures, too, with flowers, herbs. Really authentic looking. Really old looking. The book probably costs a fortune.
“What are we looking for, exactly?”
Abby has her back to me. Her head is down, her hands hidden from me.
“We already
have a love spell.” I try to peek around her shoulder to see what’s got her so enthralled.
“Girls,” the woman says. She’s right behind me and I can feel her tension as I flip my book closed. “Love spells are not to be trifled with.” She leans closer to me. “Especially if they’re working.”
“This! This is what we’re looking for.” Abby holds up her book, her finger on the sprawling writing there. She ignores the woman completely as she holds the book open for me to see.
True Love Spell
“That’s a binding spell.” The woman reaches over my shoulder and plucks the book from Abby’s hands.
“Hey!”
“This is not the kind of thing to play with, girls.” She waves her hand around the store. “You can buy candles, or other things, but I won’t sell you any of these books.” She holds her hand out to me.
I feel obliged to put the books I’m holding in her hand as well.
“Well, that feels like discrimination. You can’t do that, you know.” Abby huffs. She glares at the woman as she pushes past me.
I imagine Abby doesn’t often hear the word no.
“Come on, Ro, we don’t need to spend our money here. I’ll get us a book like that some other way.”
As I walk past the woman, she tugs on my arm lightly. “Don’t get caught up in this mess with her, dear. There are things that can happen when you cast a spell like this one. Side effects and blow back that will impact your life in ways that you won’t like.”
Her words chill me. Her eyes are intense. Pleading with me to listen? Or scolding me for even thinking about playing with this kind of thing.
“Magic isn’t real,” I croak.
She lets my arm go and her eyes shutter. “Oh yes, it most certainly is, but I think you know that.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Are you angry?” Ethan stands at my bedroom door holding up a bag of donuts, those little white powdered ones that taste like sugar heroin, as well as two iced coffees, looking all sad puppy dog.
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