Spellcaster

by Cara Lynn Shultz

  “He’s so cute,” they all gushed to each other as Gabe headed down the stage stairs to join us.

  “So cute,” Cisco mouthed, raising an eyebrow at me as he imitated them.

  “Aw, Gabe has groupies,” I teased Cisco, low enough so only he could hear me. “Ooh, can you get me on the tour bus? Can I meet the lead singer?” I asked, biting down on my index finger and batting my lashes.

  Cisco tapped his finger to his lips, pretending to study me with a critical eye. “Not unless you slut it up a little more. I’m looking for really trashy groupies to bring backstage to the boys,” he declared. “I need those eighties girls with the big crispy hair and the lace unitards or whatever they were called. Really class up the joint, you know what I mean?”

  “Nothing but the best for the winners!” I giggled, adding, “And they so already won, hands down. What’s the prize?” I expected it to be an iTunes gift certificate, or a gaudy trophy. Those were the prizes back at my old school in New Jersey.

  “I think it’s a thousand dollars,” Cisco said, his dark eyebrows rising. Of course it is.

  I let out a low whistle. “Whoa, that’s a lot.”

  “Yeah, it is,” Cisco agreed, shrugging his shoulders. “What did you expect, though? If this was Vince A, it probably would have been more. Or a yacht.”

  “You’re probably right,” I said, stumbling forward. And then I realized Brendan’s hand was at my back, gently pushing me forward, away from him.

  “Maybe they’ll book some shows this summer,” Cisco speculated, his eyes thoughtfully cast toward the ceiling as I turned around to see what Brendan was up to. “They could probably play— What the hell?”

  Cisco’s frantic shout came just as I turned to see Brendan shoving the tall Soda-Shirted Dorian guy, who fell back into a beige-tiled pillar.

  “You owe my friend an apology,” Brendan snapped, shoving the guy again.

  “You think you’re a tough guy?” Dorian sneered at Brendan.

  “You really want to find out?” Brendan asked, stepping so close to the guy they were chest to chest. Dorian pushed Brendan back, but Brendan rushed at him, pinning the guy against the pillar with his left forearm braced against Dorian’s collarbone. Brendan’s right hand was pulled back and clenched in a fist.

  “Let’s take it outside and see how tough you are without a crowd,” Dorian challenged, unfazed. “Come on, you think you got it like that? Prove it.”

  “Let it go, Brendan, it’s not worth it,” Gabe said, appearing next to Brendan. He only came up to Brendan’s shoulder, but his hands were also balled into fists, his voice shaking with anger. “He’s a sore loser, just let it go.”

  “No, Gabe. This little bitch has been running his mouth all night, and he needs to learn some respect,” Brendan growled in Dorian’s sneering face, as he grabbed a fistful of his shirt and slammed him against the pillar again. Dorian winced in pain as he wrapped his fingers around Brendan’s arm, trying to pry him off.

  “Get off me, Salinger. Yeah, I know who you are.” Dorian sneered in Brendan’s face. “You’re just a punk-ass bitch with a famous last name.” Crap. Another jerk picking a fight to prove he’s tougher than Brendan.

  Cisco brushed past me to stand behind Brendan and Gabe, and Liam flanked Brendan on his other side. Ashley’s admirers, Travis and Josh, flipped their wuss switches to On, because they bolted so quickly there was almost cartoon-style smoke trailing behind their heels. The same went for Dorian’s little friend, who hightailed it out of there as soon as Brendan slammed his buddy into the pillar.

  “What the hell happened?” Cisco demanded. I grabbed Ashley’s arm and tucked her behind me, my heart starting to pound as I realized a full-on brawl was inevitable.

  “Someone’s been talking shit all night, and he’s a sore loser because his arena-rock-wannabe band sucks, so he decided to try to trip Gabe,” Brendan growled, slamming Dorian into the pillar again. Brendan either didn’t get it or ignored how it was probably just a ploy to lure him into a fight. I instantly wanted to march right up there and slap this guy, but Brendan clearly had a handle on the situation, as anyone could see. And of course, everyone could see, since a crowd had clustered around us.

  “Look, it’s not my fault that little drummer bitch doesn’t watch where he’s going,” Dorian retorted, glaring at Brendan and then whipping his head to stare coldly at Gabe. “So he almost tripped over my foot. Big deal. Accidents happen.”

  “Accident my ass,” Brendan scoffed. “Like I didn’t hear what you were saying the entire time they were on stage?”

  Dorian managed to smirk at Brendan, who slammed him back into the pillar again, effectively wiping the smirk off his face.

  “Let it go, he’s not worth it,” Gabe repeated, glaring though narrowed eyes. “I didn’t fall, and the next band’s about to play, anyway. Let’s leave it alone.”

  “It’s cool, Brendan. This guy’s just a dick,” Cisco said, clapping Brendan on the shoulder as Brendan continued to hold Dorian immobile. Gabe looked at me pleadingly, clearly embarrassed at being the center of attention when he wasn’t on stage. I put my hand on Brendan’s arm and tried to talk to him.

  “Gabe wants you to let it go,” I said gently. “Brendan, this guy’s looking for a fight. Don’t give it to him. Please.”

  Brendan broke Dorian’s gaze, turning to face me, anger contorting his handsome features. I nodded and finally, he sighed, shoving Dorian again before dropping his grip. His shirt was puckered and pulled from where Brendan had grabbed it.

  Dorian stood taller, his arms spread victoriously.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Dorian challenged. “You better listen to your dumb whore of a girlfriend.”

  And then a few things happened at once.

  The all-girl band on stage started their set, their screeching guitar riffs echoing over the crowd, as people began pushing each other back and forth, starting an impromptu mosh pit. As soon as the words left Dorian’s sneering lips, Brendan reared his fist back and decked him, landing a crushing blow on the left side of the sandy-haired guy’s face. His eyes fluttered back in his head, and Dorian slammed back into that same pillar. He slowly slid to the floor, as if Brendan had merely flung a plate of mashed potatoes against the wall. Dorian’s short friend returned—with a much taller friend, who rushed at Brendan, flailing his fists and almost hitting Liam, who ducked and pushed him out of the way. The guy lost his footing, swinging wildly as he stumbled through the crowd—right toward me.

  Brendan shoved me out of the way, and Cisco stepped in, punching Dorian’s friend with such force, the guy turned almost a full 360 degrees. But I didn’t see what happened after that. When Brendan pushed me out of the way, I stumbled backward, colliding with Ashley. She teetered on her heels, losing her balance and falling backward onto the floor. I followed, landing on top of her, my elbow hitting her in the mouth. I heard her cry out in pain and rolled off her, kneeling by her side as she held her hand up to her bleeding mouth. I tried to pull her up, shielding her as the crowd above threatened to trample us. Half the students were racing over to watch the fight, and the other half were moshing, and I could barely see or hear anything besides the stamping feet that surrounded us.

  Then a pair of arms wrapped around Ashley’s torso from behind and hoisted her up. Once she was off the floor, a hand shot down to pull me up.

  “Thanks, Liam,” I said, once I was standing. He nodded grimly then took off, disappearing through the crowd toward the exit of the school.

  “Are you okay? I’m so sorry, Ash,” I cried, frantically. “Smile at me! Did I knock your tooth out?”

  “I deed a badroom,” Ashley said, holding her palm to the side of her face and frowning as we were jostled by the crowd. “I cut de indide of my moud.”

  “You need a bathroom? You cut t
he inside of your mouth?” I repeated what (I think) she said. Ashley smiled at me, her teeth bloodstained but mercifully all intact.

  “Okay. Where are Vanessa and Catharine?” I craned my neck, looking for her friends—and for mine. I was worried about Cisco and Brendan over the fight, and Angelique, for whatever the altercation could have done to her emotions. All that aggression and rage, she might be on a crime spree right now for all I knew.

  “Emma!” Angelique called, rushing over, her blue-gray eyes bright and wild. She was breathless, an almost exhilarated look on her face when, just an hour ago, she vacillated between overbearing fatigue and the desire to bring humpy times to the guy at the front desk. Being an empath must be exhausting. But I still couldn’t spot any of the guys—anywhere—in the dark crowd.

  “Where’d everyone go?” I asked, my heart pounding. Half of me wanted to wring Brendan’s neck for overreacting and the other half was worried about him. What if one of those guys tried to stab Brendan? What if Dorian and his friend were my psycho attackers?

  “A teacher was coming so I told Brendan and Cisco and those other two guys to get out of here and I’d find you,” Angelique said. “Let’s get out of here before—” Angelique stopped, gasping when she saw my cousin’s face. “In the name of all that’s blessed, what the hell happened to you?”

  “Uh, I happened,” I admitted sheepishly, smoothing out the front of my shirt. “Brendan shoved me out of the way once the fight started, I fell into Ashley…” I trailed off lamely.

  “Okay, let’s take her to the bathroom, and then we’ll leave. I told them to go to Mariella’s Pizzeria and we’d meet them there. And, Ashley, play it low-key,” Angelique advised, taking off her velvet cape and knotting it around Ashley’s shoulders, pulling the hood up. “The teachers are looking for whoever was involved in the fight and if they see you all bloody and wounded they’ll want you to give up names.” Granted, the sweeping velvet cape would do nothing but attract attention, but at least no one would see Ashley’s bloody lips.

  Ashley nodded, and we flanked her as we walked down the hallway, headed to the bathroom. Ashley pulled her curls around her face, keeping her head down as we went to the girls’ lounge in the main entrance hall of the school. It was far enough away from the auditorium that it likely wouldn’t be crowded—and we were right near the front, so once Ashley was cleaned up we could make a quick getaway.

  Once the door shut behind us, I glanced warily around the pale pink bathroom—the two stalls in the back room were empty, but two girls lounged on the couch in the front room. But when Ashley rushed to the sink and spit out a mouthful of blood, the girls made repulsed expressions and hightailed it out of the bathroom.

  “Oh, my God, Ash! You were holding that in all this time?” I cried as she leaned over on the faucet, scooping water into her mouth and rinsing it around, wincing.

  She spit again then turned to me, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. “Can you imagine if I spit up blood all over the place in there? That’s all we needed. Liam—I mean, all of them would be in trouble,” she reasoned, prodding the inside of her cheek with her tongue.

  “Yeeeow, this hurts.” She grimaced, feeling where her teeth cut into her cheek. “It’s getting all puffy. I’m going to end up biting this every time I eat.”

  “I’m really sorry, Ash! It was an accident—Brendan pushed me, I fell into you,” I tried explaining, but I felt deplorable anyway. More of a reason to avoid school functions, Emma.

  “It was an accident, it’s fine,” Ashley said magnanimously, smiling at me with blood still on her teeth and I felt awful all over again.

  “What was the fight about, anyway?” she asked before leaning over to rinse her mouth out again, her curls falling into the porcelain sink.

  “I think that trying-too-hard-hipster from that other band tried to trip Cisco’s boyfriend,” Angelique said casually as she leaned against the door, and I shook my head at her over Ashley’s back, sweeping my hand across my throat in a “cut it out” gesture.

  “Sorry!” she mouthed. “I could tell!” Then Angelique made a heart symbol, pressing her thumbs and forefingers together.

  Ashley whipped around, droplets of water flinging off her curls and showering the mirrors.

  “Liam is dating Cisco?” she squeaked, blue eyes wide. Then she slapped her hand against her face, moaning as she bit her cheek in her frenzy.

  “No, not Liam,” I explained, amused at her reaction. Maybe there’s some wiggle room in the friend zone. I suddenly began to suspect the reason why Ashley was always so willing to attend Brendan’s basketball games with me had little to do with cousinly support.

  “Sorry,” Angelique mouthed again before scuttling to the back of the bathroom, heading into one of the stalls.

  “Don’t say anything to Catharine or Vanessa, okay, Ash?” I asked, pulling some paper towels out of the dispenser on the wall.

  “About what?” She opened her purse and pulled out her oversize Hello Kitty makeup bag. The girl could stock the shelves of Sephora with the amount of cosmetics she carried on a daily basis. It was a wonder she wasn’t jacked up with muscles—her makeup bag alone weighed about eighty pounds.

  “About Cisco,” I replied, dropping my voice and turning to face Ashley as someone entered the bathroom. “He doesn’t want anyone at school to know.”

  “No problem.” Ashley shrugged, before turning to me with an accusatory look on her face. “Although it’s nice to know the real reason you kept on insisting you guys were only friends. I was positive you two had a secret fling before Brendan. Humph. I liked my version better. There was more…intrigue,” she finished with a flourish before she began brushing powder all over her face. I handed her some paper towels so she could scrub her teeth. The bleeding in Ashley’s mouth had stopped—but her teeth were still stained.

  In the mirrors over the sinks, I saw a stringy-haired girl leaning against the wall behind us, just staring.

  “We’re not waiting for the bathroom, you can go ahead,” I said, recognizing the same skinny brunette who had been staring at Brendan and me in the auditorium.

  “It’s broken,” the girl said, her tone nasty and condescending. She continued to glare at us through her heavily lined eyes—this chick looked like she was wearing an old-time bandit mask, she had so much black shadow ringed around her eyes. She had her hands stuffed in her oversize tote bag, which she wore slung in front of her.

  She didn’t even check the stall. I bet she doesn’t even really have to go. She just wants to gawk at us.

  “So does your cheek feel better?” I asked Ashley, who splashed some water on her face.

  “Yeah, my cheek doesn’t bother me, it’ll be fine… I just feel a little woozy,” she admitted sheepishly. “Maybe I hit my head.”

  “Do you want to sit down?” I asked, jerking my thumb to the silver-and-pink-striped couch as the girl said something under her breath, her hands moving in her bag. Probably texting her friends. Get a hobby—one that isn’t stalking us.

  “My friend is taking her time, so you should probably go to another bathroom,” I told the girl, leading Ashley to the couch. Angelique had only been in there for a minute, but I just wanted this girl to leave. But she just glared at me, the hateful look on her face turning to one of confusion.

  I sat Ashley on the couch, and glanced in the stall—the bathroom was working fine. And the girl was still staring at us.

  “Please stop staring at my cousin,” I demanded angrily. Poor Ashley didn’t need someone gawking at her when she didn’t feel well. “Don’t you have anything better to do than—”

  “Emma? Help, I don’t feel—”

  The girl grinned as Ashley’s plaintive voice called me. I whirled around just in time to see Ashley crumble to the floor and start convulsing.

 
Chapter 8

  I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I sat in the hard orange chair in the waiting room in Lenox Hill Hospital, the bitter, acrid—and very familiar—smell of antiseptic burning my nostrils. I ran my finger back and forth along the scar on my arm, staring at the shadow patterns my hands made on the white floor underneath the harsh fluorescent lights. I’d made three hospital trips in less than a year—accident with Henry, fight with Anthony and now this—and I desperately wished this visit was also for me, not my little cousin. Ashley’s parents, Aunt Jess and Uncle Dan were still talking to the doctor—a different doctor from the one I’d told what happened countless times.

  No, Ashley didn’t eat anything with strawberry in it. No, she didn’t drink anything but a can of soda that she opened in front of me. No, she said she felt woozy, and then she started convulsing…after I accidentally knocked her down. After she suggested that she might have hit her head. Because I probably gave her some kind of brain injury that’s made her unconscious for the past two hours. Aunt Christine kept her hand on my back, unconsciously rubbing it to soothe me, but I didn’t deserve her support. I deserved her scorn. I knew that somehow, I was responsible. My fault.

  Ashley started convulsing. I desperately tried to keep her from hurting herself as I’d learned in first aid, the summer I was a lifeguard. Angelique came out of the bathroom and saw us, freaked out, then got almost eerily calm and called 911. She said she would go find Brendan to tell him what had happened. After her initial outburst of “What are you doing?” she’d taken charge like a master as I held Ashley’s head until her convulsions stopped.

  “She has to be fine,” I said numbly, the mantra I’d been repeating ever since we got to the hospital. I overheard groupings of letters like EEG and MRI. Uncle Dan kept his arm around an increasingly frantic Aunt Jess as they stood and talked to Dr. Aguilar. Uncle Dan was my mom’s brother. The more he talked to the doctor, the more he resembled my mom; she got the same lines in her face, made the same pained, tortured expressions when she talked to Ethan’s doctors.