Jinx

by Meg Cabot

  “Yeah,” I said, nervously pushing my hair behind my ears. “Yeah, no, Tory’s not here. It’s just us. We came down because I have to get a gift. A birthday gift. For my little sister.”

  “Cool,” Lindsey said. Her gaze fell on the book in my hands, and she wrinkled her nose. “But why are you getting her that old thing? This book’s much better.” She picked up the big glossy one. “Look. Lots of pictures.”

  “This is the one she requested,” I lied. “I don’t know. She’s kind of weird.”

  “Are you saying witches are weird?” Gretchen demanded in her gravelly voice.

  “No!” I cried. “Gosh, no. Just my sister.”

  “I think they’re weird,” Zach said cheerfully.

  Lindsey reached out to give him a playful smack in the chest. “You better watch it,” she said. “Or I’ll put a spell on you.”

  “For all you know, Lindsey, maybe somebody else already has,” Gretchen said. But she didn’t seem to be referring to Tory, since she was looking straight at me as she said it.

  “I wouldn’t know anything about that,” I said in as pleasant a voice as I could muster. “Well, found what I needed. Ready to go, Zach?”

  “Am I ever,” Zach said.

  “Well, see you guys,” I said to Lindsey and Gretchen.

  And started for the check-out counter.

  “Oh, hey,” Lindsey called after us. “We’re gonna go get some bubble tea after this, down in Chinatown. Wanna come?”

  “Can’t,” I said, laying the book down on the counter. The pretty saleslady picked it up with a smile. “I promised Tory’s parents I’d be home in time for dinner.”

  “Tory,” Lindsey echoed with a laugh. “Don’t let her hear you call her that. She’ll kill you!”

  “She might kill her anyway,” Gretchen muttered—but loudly enough for me to hear.

  My cheeks went crimson. And the knot in my stomach swelled to a balloon.

  “What?” Lindsey sounded confused. “What’d you say, Gretch?”

  “Me?” Gretchen snorted. “I didn’t say anything.”

  Zach, who had followed me, leaned down, pretending to admire some necklaces in the glass case beneath the sales counter. “What is she talking about?” he whispered.

  “Nothing,” I said quickly. “It’s just…girl stuff.”

  “Nice,” Zach said, straightening up. “How about I meet you outside?”

  “That might be better,” I said.

  Zach nodded and left the store, the bells over the door tinkling in his wake.

  “That’ll be ten dollars,” the woman behind the counter said. I surrendered to her my brand-new fifty.

  “I bet Torrance is going to be really interested to know you were in here with her guy,” Gretchen said, her voice hard.

  “What?” Lindsey still sounded confused. “Gretchen? What are you talking about?”

  “God, Lindsey.” Gretchen flung an aggravated look in her friend’s direction. “Can’t you see what she’s trying to do? She’s trying to steal Zach right out from under Torrance’s nose!”

  “Zach’s not Tory’s guy,” I burst out—as much to my own surprise as to anyone else’s. The saleslady paused counting out my change, looking at me in astonishment.

  “What I mean is,” I said in a more modulated tone, “Zach doesn’t like Tory or me. He likes Petra, okay? Zach and I are just friends.”

  “Right,” Gretchen said, obviously not believing me. Lindsey, standing behind her, just continued to look confused.

  “We’re just friends,” I said again, taking my change from the saleslady. I hoped Gretchen couldn’t see that my hands were shaking. “You can ask him, if you want to.”

  “I think I’ll ask Torrance,” Gretchen said. “I think that’s what I’ll do.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Do that.”

  I took the bag the saleslady was holding out for me, thanked her, and turned away from the counter and toward the door—

  And knocked over a display of candles.

  “God,” I heard Lindsey say with a giggle, as I stooped to catch as many of the candles as I could before they rolled to the floor. “Walk much?”

  “Let me, dear,” the saleslady said, coming around from behind the counter.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, holding an armful of candles out to her. “I’m so clumsy.”

  “Nonsense,” the saleslady said kindly. “It could have happened to anyone. Here, put those down.” She helped me put the candles down on the counter. “There. No harm done. Oh, and take this. You almost forgot it.”

  She took something wrapped in a neat square of tissue paper from her skirt pocket, and held it out to me.

  “What…?” I reached out automatically and took the paper square. Whatever was inside rattled slightly.

  “Just something I think you’re going to need soon,” she said, her gaze sliding in Gretchen’s and Lindsey’s direction. “For luck. Blessings to you, sister.”

  My embarrassment was now consummate. I tucked the tissue-wrapped object into the bag with the book, muttered, “Thank you,” and darted from the store…

  …and continued down the street as if I were being chased.

  “Hey,” Zach called, hurrying up behind me. “Slow down, will ya? The Presidential Fitness Test is over, remember?”

  “Sorry,” I said, carefully not looking at him. “Oh, God. I am so embarrassed.”

  “Why should you be embarrassed?” He fell into step beside me.

  How could he not know? Had he not—

  Oh, right. He hadn’t been there. Thank God. Thank God.

  “Nothing,” I said, feeling almost giddy with relief. “After you left, I…I walked into a display of candles and knocked them down.”

  “Is that all? I thought you meant the thing with Tory’s friends, thinking we’re going out.”

  I froze in my tracks. And looked up at him. Slowly.

  His green eyes were laughing down at me.

  “What?” he said. “You think I don’t know about Tory’s little crush on me?”

  The balloon in my stomach swelled to a watermelon.

  “You can’t say anything about it to her,” I said, all in a rush. “You can’t tell her that you know. And it’s more than just a little crush, Zach. She seriously loves you.”

  “Seriously loves me, eh? That sounds like she wants to be more than just friends…with benefits.”

  He was laughing. I couldn’t believe he was laughing.

  “Zach,” I said. “You don’t understand. She isn’t messing around. She—”

  I almost told him. About the doll. I don’t know what stopped me, exactly. Except that I felt like Tory deserved to have some dignity left to herself, in spite of her silly behavior.

  “She could make life really uncomfortable for me,” I said, instead, “if she thought…well, that you and I…”

  Zach stopped laughing. Next thing I knew, his hands were on my shoulders.

  “Hey,” he said, giving me a little shake. “Cousin Jean. Cheer up. I was just kidding. The last thing in the world I want to do is make life any harder for you. I know it’s tough being a preacher’s kid. It must be even tougher starting a new school and living with a new family on top of your…well…”

  He didn’t say the word stalker out loud. He didn’t have to. We both knew what he was talking about, even though neither of us had ever mentioned it since that first time Tory threw it out, so casually, the day of my arrival.

  “Besides,” Zach said, dropping his hands away from me. “What does it matter? Considering who I’m supposed to be in love with, remember?”

  Oddly enough, this reminder, instead of jabbing a stake of jealousy through my heart, did cheer me up…a little.

  “That’s right,” I said. “I mean, it’s totally ridiculous of those girls to think we’re going out, when your heart belongs to another.”

  “Not just any other, either,” Zach said. “But the finest piece of womanhood on the planet.”

/>   “Yeah,” I said. “If they say anything about seeing us to Tory, I’ll just remind her that Petra’s your one true love.”

  “And I’ll have no choice but to back you up on it,” Zach said. “Eternal servitude, remember?”

  Feeling a thousand times better, I turned to start back up the street, swinging my bag from Enchantments…

  …and heard whatever it was the saleslady had given me rattle again. I paused, reached into the bag, and started unwrapping the tissue.

  “What’s that?” Zach asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Some kind of free sample or something the lady who worked there gave me…”

  But then I saw what the tissue contained, and I stopped in my tracks, halting so abruptly, I caused him to practically run me over.

  “What?” Zach asked. “What is it?” And he looked down at what I held. “Oh, that’s nice. She gave you a Satanic symbol. That’s excellent customer service.”

  “It’s not a Satanic symbol,” I said in a tight voice. In the slanting rays of the setting sun, the silver necklace winked from its nest of tissue. “The pentacle is an ancient magical symbol, meant to offer spiritual protection for its wearer. It has nothing to do with Satan.”

  Zach said in a gentle voice, “Hey, Jean. I was kidding again, all right?”

  Horrified to find my eyes welling up with tears right there on the sidewalk outside a small body-piercing boutique, I slipped the necklace back into the bag, then hugged the bag to my chest.

  For luck, she had said. Just something I think you’re going to need soon.

  How had she known?

  A better question, though, was what did she know that I didn’t?

  CHAPTER NINE

  “What are you doing in my room?”

  Tory’s voice was laced with venom. She’d flicked on the overhead light, and now she stood in the doorway, her leather jacket shrugged half-off, staring at me.

  Coming awake slowly, I lifted my head from where it had sunk onto one of Tory’s pillows, and blinked in the sudden flood of light. I must, I realized, have fallen asleep waiting for Tory to come home. The book I’d purchased earlier that evening lay across my chest, open, I knew, to the chapter on banishing spells.

  “Tory,” I said groggily, sitting up. “Where have you been? What time is it?”

  “What does it matter what time it is?” Tory snapped. “What are you doing in my room? That’s the real question.”

  I shoved some hair out of my eyes and squinted at the digital alarm clock on Tory’s nightstand. “Jeez,” I said. “It’s almost midnight. Your parents are going to be mad—”

  “They’re not even home yet themselves,” Tory said. She flung off her leather jacket, letting it fall to the floor, where most of the rest of her clothes would lay until Marta came in to clean. “What are you doing in here, anyway? And why aren’t you with Zach?”

  So they’d told her. That hadn’t taken long.

  “Tory,” I said, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I’d grown so tired waiting for Tory, I’d changed into my pajamas. Now my bare feet sank into the deep lavender pile that carpeted her room as I stood up. “Nothing’s going on between Zach and me. We’re just friends. You know as well as I do that he’s in love with Petra. We need to talk about something else. It’s important.”

  Tory had gone into her walk-in closet the minute I’d mentioned Petra, having lost interest in the conversation. She must have known, the whole time Gretchen or whoever was telling her about seeing Zach and me together, that it couldn’t be true about the two of us.

  Because now, having emerged from her closet wearing only a black bra, her miniskirt, and a lot of necklaces, her heavily—but expertly—made-up eyes went wide. That’s because she’d finally noticed the book.

  “So that’s why you went to Enchantments,” she said. “I knew it wasn’t to get a birthday present for Courtney. Courtney’s birthday’s not till February. Did you change your mind?” she asked eagerly. “You thought about what I said, about joining our coven?”

  I shook my head. This, I knew, was going to take some guts. But I had no choice. I really didn’t.

  No matter how much my stomach hurt.

  “No,” I said. “I want to talk to you about this.”

  From inside the front cover of the book I was still holding, I pulled Petra’s photograph, the one from the litter box, and held it out for Tory to see. It was in a sealed Ziploc bag, but you could still see what it was.

  Tory squinted at it, then made a face.

  “Ew,” she said. “You TOUCHED it? That isn’t very hygienic, you know. I hope you washed your hands.”

  Then, when I didn’t say anything more, she shrugged. “So. You found it. I wondered if you would. Well. You want to know why it was in there?”

  “I know why it was in there,” I said. “What I want to know is why you did it.”

  Tory just shrugged again, then sat down on the tasseled swivel stool in front of her dressing table, where she began brushing her thick black hair.

  “Why do I have to explain myself to you?” she asked my reflection.

  “Because this is serious.” I crossed the room to stand beside the dressing table, and looked down at her. “Maybe you didn’t know, but what you did—taping Petra’s picture to the bottom of Mouche’s box like that—it’s black magic, Tory. It’s bad.”

  Tory stared at my refection incredulously for a beat. Then she let out a whoop of laughter.

  “Listen to you!” she cried. “Black magic! You kill me!”

  “I’m serious, Tory,” I said. I held up the book I’d bought. “It says so right here. Magic spells used to bring harm to another are really dangerous. It inevitably comes back to the person who cast it, like a boomerang. But times three.”

  “Well, look at you.” Tory grinned up at me, her smile distinctly feline. “And I thought you didn’t believe.”

  “Seriously, Tory,” I said. “I’m worried about you. Why would you do something like that, and to Petra, of all people? Petra is one of the sweetest, kindest people I’ve ever met. She’s never done anything to you. So what have you got against her? Is it just because Zach likes her? Is that it? Because what you’re doing…it’s wrong. It’s mean-spirited and wrong. I don’t know why you did this to her, but I’m telling you right now, it’s over.”

  “Oh,” Tory said, not smiling now. “It’s over. Right.”

  “I mean it, Tory. You and this coven of yours can play around at being witches all you want. You can make up little spells and perform them on each other and have a grand old time, for all I care. But not spells that manipulate or hurt other people. Especially people like Petra.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Tory tossed her head. “And exactly how are you going to stop me?”

  “Well.” I looked down at the floor. I had expected this to go so differently. I don’t know why. I mean, knowing Tory, I shouldn’t have expected her to be anything but mad.

  But in my head, when I’d rehearsed this conversation, Tory had apologized and said she hadn’t known what she’d been doing to Petra was so harmful. She’d thanked me for telling her, and we’d hugged and gone downstairs for cocoa together.

  It didn’t look like it was going to go that way after all.

  I was glad I’d made backup preparations, just in case.

  I sighed.

  “The truth is, Tor,” I said, raising my gaze to meet hers, “I’ve bound you.”

  “You’ve bound—” Tory gaped at me. “You’ve what?”

  “Bound you from performing evil.” I stood my ground. “You can still work positive spells. But not ones that manipulate anyone’s will. They won’t work. Not anymore.”

  Tory looked as shocked as if I had slapped her. “You hypocritical little…are you telling me that this whole time—all this time—you really have been one of us?”

  “I’m not one of you,” I said firmly. “I’ll admit I might have been interested in magic once. But it…it didn’t work o
ut. Okay, Tory? It went really, really wrong, and someone got hurt, and I swore to myself I never would do it again. Magic, I mean. It’s serious business, Tory, and not something anyone who doesn’t know what they’re doing should mess around with.”

  Tory made a face. “Thanks for the tip, Mom. But it might interest you to know I do know what I’m doing.”

  “No, you don’t. Not if this is an example.” I held up Petra’s battered photo. “Something like this could really hurt someone. That’s why—even though I didn’t want to—I had to break my promise to myself never to do magic again, and bind you.”

  “Oh,” Tory said, slapping both hands to her face in mock horror. “Oh, don’t, Cousin Jinx! I’m so scared. I’m sure your stupid hick magic is so much more powerful than mine.” She dropped her hands and eyed me with total contempt. “Let’s get one thing straight, Sabrina. This is New York City, not Iowa. I suspect my magic’s just a teensy bit more sophisticated than yours. So whatever crappy little binding spell you’ve done on me, you better not count on it working. Because here in the big city, Jinx, we don’t mess around.”

  “We don’t mess around in Iowa, either,” I pointed out quietly. “In fact, my spells have always worked just fine.” Actually, I’d only done one. But still. It HAD worked. Unfortunately, a little too well.

  “Oh, right!” Tory threw back her head and laughed. “You’re clearly such a powerful witch! Let me see…you and your white-trash parents live in a house that’s too small for you, with, like, one bathroom. You’re not allowed to listen to rap or watch HBO. You’re a straight-A, knock-kneed orchestra geek. And you had to move to New York to live off the charity of your rich relatives, because some boy in your town got a crush on you, and your parents freaked.”

  She’d stood up now and was facing me with her hands on her hips, a scornful expression on her face, her nose just inches from mine.

  “Oh, yeah,” she went on sarcastically. “You’re a huge powerful witch, all right. I’m so scared. Because you’ve obviously cast so many spells that worked. NOT.”