Jinx

by Meg Cabot

When I turned, distressed, back to the table, Chanelle was wearing a sympathetic expression.

  “Oh, Jean,” she said. “Don’t let those witches get you down. We know it wasn’t you. And even if it was, who could blame you, after what happened to Torrance?”

  Because, of course, news of Tory’s suicide attempt had spread like wildfire across the school—though I hadn’t said a word about it.

  “It wasn’t me,” I said fiercely.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Robert look bored. “No one listens to those two skanks anyway.”

  But he was wrong. Either that, or Gretchen and Lindsey weren’t the only two going around saying I was the one who’d told on Shawn. Everywhere I went, people started whispering, and only stopped when I looked their way. By the time fifth period P.E. rolled around, I had taken about all I could handle.

  There was only one other person at Chapman whose reaction to the Shawn thing I cared about. And he’d been avoiding me like the plague since Saturday night. I hadn’t been near enough to Zach to exchange a single word with him, let alone slip Lisa’s sachet into his backpack.

  Not that I blamed him. Between my troubles with Tory, and then the witch thing—and now this—I must have seemed like the great big bad-luck magnet I knew myself, in actual fact, to be.

  Coach Winthrop had us doing softball again. It was no miracle that Zach and I ended up on the same team. Coach Winthrop, in a rare moment of good humor, apparently decided it would be hilarious to appoint a music geek—and rumored narc, although I’m pretty sure the coach didn’t know about that yet—like me a team captain. Zach was, of course, the first person I chose for my team. Hey, it might turn out to be the only way I’d ever get him to talk to me.

  But in the end, I was wrong. Again. He came over and spoke to me of his own free will while we were waiting for our turns at bat.

  “So, Cousin Jean from Iowa,” he said. “You weren’t lying when you said you have chronic bad luck. You seriously have the worst luck of anyone I’ve ever met. Now you’re a narc, I hear?”

  It was all I could do—seriously—not to burst into tears right there behind the chain-link fence, even though we all know there’s no crying in baseball. Or softball, either.

  “It wasn’t me,” I said, a little too loudly. Everyone else on our team looked over at me.

  Zach’s smile was gentle. “Relax, Jean,” he said. “I know it wasn’t you. Interesting that that’s what the rumor should be, though, huh?”

  “It makes sense,” I said with a shrug. “I mean, she’s my cousin. I’m new here. I’m—”

  “—a preacher’s daughter,” Zach said. “Yeah, I know. I heard them all, too. So. What are you going to do?”

  I shrugged again. “What can I do?”

  “You can go to the dance with me,” Zach said.

  I looked up at him owlishly. “Are you crazy? That’ll just make things worse. Gretchen and Lindsey are already going around saying—”

  “Exactly,” Zach said. “Gretchen and Lindsey are the ones feeding fuel to the fire. And why do you think they’re doing that?”

  Because I won’t join forces with Tory and help them to become the most powerful coven on the eastern seaboard. Only I couldn’t say that. So I said, “Because they hate me.”

  “Right. But why do they hate you? Because Tory told them to.”

  I shook my head, confused. “Are you saying Tory told them I was the one who got Shawn expelled?”

  “Does that seem so out of the realm of the possible, given what you know about your cousin?”

  I thought about it. I really did. I just couldn’t see Tory doing something that underhanded. Faking a suicide attempt—given that she was such a drama queen—yes. But spreading a rumor she knew wasn’t true about me?

  On the other hand, she HAD been IMing an awful lot lately….

  Still.

  “I don’t know, Zach,” I said. “I don’t think even Tory would stoop that low.”

  “Fine,” he said. “But just in case you change your mind…the invitation still stands.”

  “The invitation…to the dance?” I’m sorry to say that my voice rose to a squeal at the end.

  “Yeah,” Zach said, looking bemused, I guess by the squeal. “That one.”

  “But—” The truth was, though I had said the words two nights ago—the ones telling him I couldn’t go to the dance with him—they still hurt…they hurt even more than my offer to Tory’s parents to go back to Hancock.

  But I knew I couldn’t hold him to an invitation that he might regret having made. I mean, that wouldn’t be fair. No one—not even a guy as great as Zach—wants to associate with a rumored narc.

  “Seriously, Zach,” I said. “It’s all right. You can take someone else. I won’t mind.” It would kill me. But I wasn’t going to let him know that.

  But to my surprise, instead of arguing some more, he said, “Look, you’re taking U.S. History. Has Mrs. Tyler gotten to the different styles of government yet?”

  “Yes,” I said, wondering what on earth this had to do with the dance.

  “Has she gotten to the laissez-faire approach of governing…of letting things take their own course?”

  “Abstention by the government from interfering with the free market,” I said.

  “Right. I guess you could say I have always taken a sort of laissez-faire approach to Tory. As long as she didn’t bug me, I wasn’t going to bug her, know what I mean? I suspected for a while that she had a crush on me, but—”

  “But you liked Petra,” I finished for him. “And so long as you remained on friendly terms with Tory, you had an excuse to see her. Petra, I mean.”

  He actually looked embarrassed.

  “Well,” he said. “Yeah. Basically. For a while, anyway. But here’s the thing: I don’t plan on taking the laissez-faire approach to Tory anymore…or anyone else for that matter. I think it’s time I took a stand.”

  I said carefully, “But Zach, if you and I go to the dance, and Tory gets mad, and then I”—I swallowed, but carried on—“I go back to Hancock, you won’t have an excuse to see Petra anymore. Tory won’t forgive you, you know.”

  “I know,” Zach said. “That’s what I’m trying to say. I’m prepared to make that sacrifice.”

  I looked at him curiously. “But why? Why would you do that? Don’t you love Petra anymore?”

  Zach had the strangest look on his face. It seemed to be halfway between frustration and amusement. He opened his mouth to say something in reply, only to be interrupted by Coach Winthrop, who bellowed, “Rosen! You’re up!”

  Giving me an apologetic smile, Zach went off to grab a bat.

  I leaned back against the bench, wondering what he could possibly have been about to say. Could Zach’s feelings for Petra have changed? Had seeing her so excited about Willem’s impending visit finally made him realize he really never had a chance with her?

  What was going on?

  I never got the chance to find out, though, because later in the game, someone hit a pop fly that collided with my head (typical) and I had to sit on the sidelines until Coach Winthrop was finally convinced I didn’t have a concussion and let me go back to the locker room to change.

  But if Zach’s feelings for Petra were history, they weren’t the only ones, I discovered when I got home from school that day. So, it turned out, were Tory’s feelings for me. Her feelings of animosity toward me, anyway.

  Or so she claimed.

  I was in my room practicing when I heard the tap on my door.

  “Come in,” I said, lowering my violin. I knew it had to be something important. I had drilled it into Teddy’s and Alice’s heads that during my hour-long practice every afternoon, I wasn’t to be disturbed, no matter what had just happened on SpongeBob.

  I should have known it couldn’t have been either of the younger Gardiners, who really were good about not bothering me when they heard Stravinsky coming out of my room. Instead, it was Tory.

  “Hey,” she said
to me, after closing the door behind her and leaning against it. “Got a minute?”

  I stared at her. There was something…different about her. Really different. At first I couldn’t put my finger on just what exactly.

  Then it hit me. She wasn’t dressed in black. She had on jeans—ordinary ones, not the ones she sometimes wore that she’d decorated all over with ankhs and pentacles in black Magic Marker.

  And she wasn’t wearing a ton of makeup, either. An incredibly striking-looking girl, Tory had never needed all the eyeliner and mascara she slathered on, anyway. Without it, she looked just as pretty…only in a different, more vulnerable way.

  Something else was different, too. It took me another minute to realize what, but then it hit me. She wasn’t glaring at me. She actually looked…well, as if she were glad to see me.

  “I just wanted to apologize,” she said, “for the way I’ve been treating you since you got here.”

  I nearly dropped my violin, I was so astonished.

  “I know I’ve been a real pscyho lately,” Tory went on. “I don’t know what’s been the matter with me. I guess it just all got to be too much—school, and the pressure to be popular, and the thing with Zach, and…and the witch thing. And I ended up taking it out on you. Which isn’t fair. I realize that now. My therapist—you know, the one I’ve been seeing—has really been helping me with that. So I just wanted to say I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting, and thank you for what you did the other night—with the drugs, and all. I know you just did it because you were worried about me. I’m lucky to have so many people in my life who care about me so much. That’s been a real wake-up call for me. So…thanks, Jinx. And…if it’s okay with you…I’d like you to give me another chance.”

  I couldn’t stop staring at her. I’ve heard of therapy working miracles, but I’d never expected anything like this.

  “I…” What could I say? I was thrilled to have the old Tory—the one from five years ago—back. If it was really true. “Oh, Tory. Do you really mean it?”

  “Of course I mean it,” Tory said, with a smile. Even her hair looked different. She had pinned it up, out of her eyes, so that she looked almost…well, preppy. And happy, for a change. “And I don’t want to play at being witches anymore, either. That whole thing about Grandma, and Branwen…that was just silly. So was the stuff with Zach, and the doll—” She heaved a shudder. “God! I can’t believe I ever did that. It’s so embarrassing! I put that stupid doll in the trash and forgot about it, like you said to. I really want us to be friends again, Jinx. Do you think we can?”

  “Of course we can,” I said. But something was nagging me…and it wasn’t the tiny knot in my stomach, either. “But what about…Shawn?”

  “Shawn?” Tory looked confused. Then she laughed. “Oh, Shawn! I know, can you believe that? I can’t believe someone turned him in like that. But he’ll be all right. I heard his dad already pulled some strings to get him into Spencer. Although Dr. Kettering had to lock up all his prescription pads.”

  I stared at her. “Your friends—Gretchen and Lindsey—seem to think I did it. The whole school seems to think I did it.”

  “Do they?” Tory shook her head. “But that’s just silly! Of course it wasn’t you. I can’t believe that. God, you really do have the worst luck, Jean. You always did. That’s one of the things I love best about you, I guess. You’re just so…predictable.”

  I stared at her. She really did seem to be serious. She seemed to be…well, the old Tory. She really did.

  The next thing I knew, I was walking over to hug her—then realized I was still holding my bow and violin, and, laughing, put them down, then walked into her embrace.

  I couldn’t believe it! As she hugged me, I had to blink tears from my eyes. It didn’t seem possible, but it was really happening. I had the old Tory back!

  “Oh, Jean,” she said, when we finally let each other go. “I’m so glad you forgive me. Especially when I was so horrible to you.”

  “Tory.” I shook my head. “I’ll always forgive you. That’s what cousins are for, right? But…” It had taken a trip to the hospital to straighten her out, but she seemed genuinely remorseful. Still. “Are you really sure…I mean—”

  “Oh, Jean, you don’t have to worry about me anymore,” she said, with a laugh. “I’m really all right. I just hope you won’t…you know. Feel awkward. Not about the witch thing, but about Zach. I’m really over him. Really. I swear. I don’t mind a bit that you two are going out. In fact, I think you make a cute couple. You’ll look adorable together at the dance.”

  “Thanks,” I said uncomfortably. “But, like I keep telling you…we’re not a couple. We’re certainly not going to the dance together.”

  “Why? Didn’t he ask you?” Tory’s eyes were filled with concern. “That seems weird. I mean, you two have gotten so close…even if you are just friends, I’d have thought he’d ask you to the formal….”

  “Well,” I said awkwardly. “He did. But I said no. Because it just didn’t seem like—”

  “Oh, Jean!” Tory cried, coming up to me and squeezing my arm. “You guys have to go together! You just have to! It won’t be the same if you’re not there.”

  “If I’m not…” My voice trailed off. “You’re still going? But I thought—”

  “Of course I’m still going! Not with Shawn, of course,” she said. “He’s not allowed back at any school-sponsored functions. But I thought I would go, you know, stag. Lots of girls do it. I won’t look like the biggest freak there by a long shot. And who knows? Maybe I’ll find someone there…someone a little more interested in being just friends, as opposed to being friends with benefits.” She winked at me. “If you know what I mean.”

  “That’s a great idea,” I said, thinking it was just the thing Tory needed—a new start, especially in the guy arena. “Wait, I know. Why don’t we go together? You and me…we can both look for new guys….”

  “Oh, no,” Tory said. “And leave out poor Zach? That doesn’t seem fair. You have to go with Zach, Jean. You just have to. If you don’t…well, I’d feel like it was because of me.”

  “Well,” I said hesitantly.

  Tory slapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh, no! It is because of me, isn’t it? Oh, Jean, I feel awful. Just awful! I don’t want my stupid baggage affecting other people. Jean, you’ve got to go with him. You just have to.”

  “But I already told him I wouldn’t,” I said, a little helplessly.

  “What if you called him and told him you’d changed your mind? I’m sure that he’ll still want to go.”

  “Well,” I said again. “I don’t know. Maybe. But—”

  “Oh, call him,” Tory said. She picked up the cordless extension sitting on my bedside table. “Call him right now, and tell him you changed your mind.”

  “It’s not that easy, Tory,” I said, thinking of his expression the last time I’d seen him, when I’d asked him if he was still in love with Petra. He’d just looked so strange…. If he wasn’t in love with Petra anymore, what incentive did he have to hang around with me?

  None, that’s what.

  “You’ll never know for sure,” Tory said, holding the phone out to me, “if you don’t even try.”

  I looked at the phone. She was right, of course. And what could it hurt to ask?

  Shrugging, I took the phone from her and punched in Zach’s number.

  He picked up on the second ring.

  “Zach?” I said. “It’s me, Jean.”

  I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until he said, “Oh, hey,” in a voice that indicated that he was actually glad to hear from me. Then I exhaled, all in a rush.

  “How’s it going?” he asked. “How’s your head? I looked for you after class, but you’d already taken off—”

  “Yeah, I’m fine now,” I said, wincing at this reminder of my truly embarrassing lack of athleticism.

  “Good. How’s your cousin doing? Has she—”

  “Tory’s do
ing great,” I interrupted him to say, with a grin in Tory’s direction. She grinned back, giving me the thumbs-up for luck. “In fact, that’s sort of why I’m calling…about the spring formal. The thing is…Tory’s feeling much, much better today. And she says she’d really hate for us not to go to the dance on her account.”

  “Oh,” Zach said. “She said that, did she?”

  “She did,” I said. “Actually. So, I was wondering if you still wanted to go.” I realized my palms were sweating, and wiped them—transferring the phone from one hand to the other—on my jeans. “With me, I mean.”

  “Jean,” Zach said.

  “Yes?”

  “Is Tory there in the room with you right now?”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, careful not to meet Tory’s gaze.

  “Doesn’t this sound like some kind of scam to you?”

  “What?” I was startled. “No. No, Zach, it’s nothing like that. Tory’s going to the dance, too…solo, of course, because of what happened to Shawn. And she says she’d feel really bad if we weren’t there.”

  I cleared my throat. This was so awkward. Because if what I think Zach was trying to tell me out on the ball field was really true, he didn’t even like Petra that way anymore. So why on earth would he want to keep hanging around with me?

  “It’s totally fine if you’ve already found someone else to go with,” I added hurriedly. “I was just checking. In case you hadn’t. But if you’re going with someone else, really, it’s fine—”

  “It’s not that,” Zach said. “It’s just that you don’t think this is all sort of—”

  “Jean,” Tory said. I glanced at Tory. She was holding out her hand. “Let me talk to him.”

  Not knowing what else to do, I handed the phone to Tory. She said, in the most animated voice I’d ever heard her use before, “Zach? Hi, it’s me, Torrance. Look, Zach, I know this must seem sudden, but I really am so grateful to Jean for what she did for me. I just want her to know how truly sorry I am for the way I’ve been treating her since she got here, and—what’s that? Oh, of course, Zach. I already did. And Jean really seems ready to give me another chance. I was hoping you could, too.”