Spells & Sleeping Bags

by Sarah Mlynowski

  “I don't think so,” she says, cackling, and then, with a snap of her fingers, a broom appears in her hand and she takes off.

  Where did she go? How did she/I do that? I stop for a second and think. If I have access to all Liana's memories, do I also have access to all her advanced witchcraft skills? I snap my fingers and wish for a flying broom.

  Nada. Guess not. That is so unfair! I get her crappy life and memories but none of her expertise. Where's the fun in that?

  I arrive at Miri's bunk about ten minutes later, huffing and puffing. Miri and the fake me are waiting for me on the porch. “Miri,” I say, “I have to tell you what happened.”

  “I don't want to talk to you,” she says, waving her lanyard bracelet in the air. “I can't believe you would do that to me, Liana. You must think I'm the biggest idiot.”

  I shake my head. “You have to listen to me.”

  “No, I don't. You make me sick. How did you think you could get away with putting an amplifying spell on me?”

  “What? I didn't! She did!” I point at my conniving cousin.

  “Rachel told me all about it. You tried to get me to dump my whole family! And I almost let you! At first I didn't even believe my sister, but she told me to take off the bracelet—and poof, no more amplification.”

  I want to cry. “No, you don't understand! I'm Rachel! I'm not Liana! She made me switch places!”

  “Save it. You're sick, Liana. Sick in the head. I will never believe anything you say ever again.”

  I need to prove the truth to her! What can I do? “Ask me something about our past. You'll see that I know the answer!”

  “Of course you do; you've been spying on me all year with your crystal ball. I don't want you coming near me.”

  “Liana,” the fake me says to me, “you'd better stay away from my sister. We found a restraining spell.”

  Miri picks up a Styrofoam cup that's sitting next to her, tosses its contents at me, and chants:

  “With this magic restraining order,

  Fifty feet will be your border!”

  Suddenly, I'm forty-five feet in the air. I land on my butt (in a sandpile, thank goodness) near Lower Field. I try to push my way back to my sister's bunk, but an invisible wall won't let me through. “You can't do this!” I yell.

  But there's no point. She can't even hear me.

  For everyone else at camp, the last two weeks are the best.

  The weather is sunny and beautiful, the rules have melted away, and everyone is hooking up left, right, and center.

  Anthony is breaking his own rules by dating Deb, so he can't exactly fire Harris. Instead, he and Deb go public with their relationship and tell Harris and Poodles that they can continue dating as long as Poodles' parents approve, which they happily do.

  Anderson finally makes a move on Carly, and judging by Carly's stories, not even Morgan can call her a prude.

  Speaking of Morgan . . . she gets over Will and hooks up with Blume, rumored spit crust be damned.

  Even Prissy is having the time of her life. “No, I don't want to go!” she cried, kicking and screaming when her two-week starter program was up. Her counselors let her call Jennifer, who, after listening to much howling, finally agreed to let her stay the remaining week and a half.

  There's color war (Angels versus Devils), there are pool parties, there are more campfires. There're the camp lip-synching contest, the camp play, the camp dance show.

  Everyone has a blast. Everyone except me.

  I'm miserable. First of all, every time I get fifty feet from Miri, the invisible wall knocks me down like I'm some sort of human bowling pin. I have huge noninvisible bruises all over my body, and no one knows where they're coming from.

  Second, I finally get together with Raf. I apologize for my hallucinations, and Raf forgives me almost immediately. Every night after evening activity, we share big juicy kisses on the bunk porch. Unfortunately, I'm not there to appreciate them, since I'm no longer Rachel.

  “I'm so happy you two finally hooked up,” Carly says to the fake me.

  Liana has reversed her poisonous friendship spells, so Carly, Morgan, and Deb love me again. The fake me. And they've all gone back to hating Liana, aka the real me. So now everyone hates me, including Poodles, who was never bewitched in the first place.

  The only person who will even talk to me is Prissy. She calls me Ianalay and I let her braid my hair.

  “It's the prettiest hair in the whole world. Long and smooth and pretty, just like Belle's from Beauty and the Beast,” she tells me when I visit her bunk.

  I've never been happier to have a six-year-old friend.

  It's the last day of camp, and everyone is crying.

  Big babies, I think. What do they have to cry about? They're not living in someone else's body.

  I pack Liana's stuff into her duffel bags.

  “Here's what you're going to do,” she tells me. “I'll shrink the restraining spell to ten feet so you can take the bus back to Manhattan with us. Then you'll grab a cab to JFK and take your flight back to Zurich. I'm sure you don't have the skill for a broom yet, so I cast you up a flight reservation. Wasn't that nice of me?”

  “Isn't your mom going to pick me up at the bus stop?”

  She snorts. “Yeah, right. I'm sure she and Micha are going to cut short their trip to Antarctica to come get you. You're on your own, cuz. Your new mother doesn't give a crap about you, so you'd better get used to it.”

  I lug my way through the final banquet (taking a moment to enjoy Oscar's lasagna), the slide show, the final campfire (by now I know the words to the camp song but have no one to sing it with), and then the social. Since I can't go to the dance (Miri's inside and I'll get wall-slapped), I stand outside the rec hall and peek through the window.

  My whole bunk is having a blast doing the Sweep, the Soccer Player, and the Brushing Your Teeth.

  Then I watch myself slow dance with Raf.

  I can't believe it. After a full year of dreaming and hoping that I would one day go to a dance with Raf, my wish finally comes true.

  19

  FAMILY REUNION

  Through the front-seat window of the bus, I can see my mother and Lex waiting at the drop-off point on Fifth Avenue. They're holding hands, gazing into each other's eyes.

  This is my last chance. If I can reach my mother before Miri gets within fifty feet of her, maybe she'll see my resemblance to her sister and listen to me. Maybe she'll believe me.

  The bus stops and I squeeze my way toward the door.

  “Not so fast,” Liana whispers into my ear when I'm stuck waiting for the door to open. Before I realize what she's up to, she rubs some sort of jelly onto my neck and whispers:

  “Till the next moon has come around,

  You have lost the use of sound.”

  I open my mouth to yell at her, but I can't speak.

  This was my last chance! What now? If only my dad were here and not at the Long Island stop picking up Prissy . . . I step off the bus and get pushed to the side as Miri and her invisible wall (now back to fifty feet from her) disappear from my life. There's nothing I can do but watch helplessly from farther down the street. I have to tell them the truth! But how?

  Through the crowd of parents, returning campers, and tourists, I watch my mom hug Fake Me first. Fake Me looks flushed with happiness. Then Mom hugs Miri. My sister holds on to her longer than she ever has before. I guess the whole run-away plan really freaked her out. I can see their mouths moving, but they're too far away for me to hear what they're saying. So I summon my raw will and think:

  Bounce their words against the cloud,

  To make these words ten times as loud!

  Yes, I know it's not my best rhyme, but what do you want? I'm under major pressure here!

  “Let me help you with your knapsacks,” Lex says.

  I can hear him! Wahoo!

  “Thanks so much,” Fake Me coos. “You're such a doll.”

  I try to make out my sis
ter's face for a reaction. Come on, Miri! Would I ever call Lex a doll? No! No, I wouldn't!

  Unless I was calling him an antique doll.

  Miri looks at my fake face for a split second longer than necessary but then looks away and continues walking.

  No, Miri, no!

  I try to hurry after them, but I smash into the wall. I settle for following at my fifty-foot distance while listening to their conversation.

  Miri and Fake Me are trailing slightly behind Mom and Lex, walking to the corner of the street. “Mom's going to be so impressed with how good your magic's gotten,” my sister says.

  Tell me about it. It's almost as though I've been a witch for years.

  My mom and Lex wait for Fake Me and Miri to catch up. “I have an announcement,” my mom says.

  Omigod. She's engaged. Is she engaged? I squint, trying to see if she's wearing an engagement ring.

  “What?” Miri asks.

  “I told Lex . . . about us.”

  She did?

  “You did?” my sister asks. “Wow. I can't believe it. That's, like, huge.”

  “I wanted to do it right this time. A clean slate. I wanted to be honest. With myself and with Lex.”

  “You're the best, Mom,” Fake Me says. “And honesty is so important.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire.

  “I'm glad you didn't get scared away,” Miri says to Lex.

  Lex laughs. “Scared of her? Never. But I have to admit, I thought she was, well, a little off when she first told me. I mean, witchcraft? Gimme a break. But she proved it to me, and I came to terms with it.”

  “How did she prove it to you?” Miri asks.

  Lex winks. “Let's just say it involved a dozen roses.”

  My mother giggles. “It's not unusual anymore for a woman to give a man flowers.”

  “It was when I watched them grow out of my living room carpet,” he says.

  “I can't believe you did that!” Miri squeals.

  “Now, don't get carried away,” my mom says. The light changes and they all cross the street, with me following as closely as I can. “I'm still a nonpracticing witch.” She takes Lex's hand. “Most of the time.”

  “You're good for my mom,” Miri says to Lex, then adds, “I was pretty nasty on visiting day. I want to say I'm sorry. I was having some issues.”

  “Don't worry about it,” he replies. “Clean slate for us, too.”

  “You'd better watch out,” pipes up Fake Me. “If you're not nice to my mom, I might turn you into a mouse.”

  My mom wags her finger. “Rachel! We will do no such thing.”

  Fake Me turns bright red. “I was just kidding.”

  Mom puts her arm around Fake Me. “And how's your Glinda going?”

  “It's getting good,” Fake Me says.

  “She's gotten really good, Mom,” Miri says.

  “Great,” my mom says as she steps onto the curb and pulls Fake Me into a hug. “I'm so proud of you, honey.”

  Fake Me's smile has lit up my entire fake face.

  I can't believe I'm watching all this family bonding from fifty feet away. I love family bonding! I'm the queen of family bonding!

  This is a new low.

  “You realize, of course,” my mom says, “that you still have a lot of work ahead of you. Control, control, control!”

  “Are we taking a taxi?” Fake Me asks.

  “No, Lex drove. We're parked in a lot just on Madison.”

  “Thanks for picking us up,” Miri says.

  “No problem. I'm just glad the bags get delivered.”

  I hurry behind them as they make their way to the south side of the street and then down a driveway into an underground lot.

  The restraining spell won't let me follow them down the driveway. But from my angle, I can still see them if I squat. Lex opens the trunk of the car and stuffs our two knapsacks into it. Then Miri and Fake Me climb into the car.

  This is it. They're going. What should I do? Do I just stand here? Do I follow them in a cab? Liana will probably put a restraining spell on the entire apartment. On the entire school. On all Manhattan. And any day now, I'm going to get sucked back to Switzerland because of Liana's ankle magnet.

  I watch as Lex opens the passenger door for my mom, then closes it.

  He walks over to the parking lot attendant to pay and gets the keys.

  He opens his car door. Gets into his seat. Starts the car.

  My life is officially over.

  “Thanks, sweetie,” my mom says, rolling down her window. “How much do I owe you for parking?”

  “Nothing,” Lex says with a smile. “It was free.”

  “Oh, come on, tell me. It must have been a fortune. The girls were so late.”

  “Really?” Miri asks. “How long were you waiting?”

  “We got here at twelve-thirty, because you were supposed to arrive at one,” she says while rifling through her wallet. “It's now one-forty-five. Lex, tell me what I owe you.”

  “One kiss.”

  “Rachel, help me out here,” Mom says, pointing to the price list on the wall. “It was eight dollars for the first half hour, and four-sixty for each additional half hour. How much do I owe him?”

  Seventeen-twenty, I think but don't say, because I can't talk.

  “Excuse me?” Fake Me asks.

  “How much do I owe Lex?” my mom asks. “You know I'm no good with numbers.”

  Fake Me hesitates. “Um, I don't know.”

  Ha! But I bet she knows she should know. After all, she knows everything about me, right? Too bad our expertise isn't transferable.

  My sister does a double take. “What do you mean you don't know? You should know.”

  “Of course I know. It's, um . . . um . . .”

  “Are you counting on your fingers?” Miri asks in disbelief.

  “No! Why would I do that?”

  As they pull out of the driveway onto the street, I hear my sister scream, “Stop the car! This isn't Rachel!”

  Wahoo to the power of a billion!

  Lex slams on the brakes. “Excuse me?”

  “She's an impostor!” Miri cries. “It's Liana in disguise!”

  Phewf. What can I say? It's about time.

  Lex drops us off at the apartment. He kisses my mother (still gross, but I'm learning to live with it) and says, “Have fun, ladies.”

  “Chicken,” my mother gently teases. But I know she's relieved. This is a hen roost. No roosters allowed.

  After my family realized the truth, Liana admitted to the silence and restraining spells, which my sister immediately undid. I then ran toward them, waving my arms and blubbering like a five-year-old. Miri—also blubbering—threw her arms around me and would not let go.

  Now the four of us—my mom, Miri, the fake me, and the real me—are sitting in the living room. Unfortunately, my mom can't undo the switching spell. For that, both me's have to freely agree to swap back. And the fake me isn't being too agreeable.

  “Tough,” she keeps repeating. “You can't make me.”

  “There's no point in you staying Rachel if we all know it isn't really her,” Miri wisely points out. She turns to me with a sheepish expression. “I'm still sorry. I should have believed you.”

  And I say, “I know, Miri, you've told me a hundred times.” More like three hundred times, but who's counting? I keep telling her it wasn't her fault. I also keep reminding her that she's the one who saved me. If she hadn't picked up on the math thing, I would have been banished to Switzerland.

  “I want to talk to your mother,” my mom says to Liana, and we all gasp.

  “What makes you think she wants to talk to you?” Liana asks snidely. “The two of you haven't spoken in over thirteen years!”

  “Where is she, Liana? Tell me.”

  But Liana doesn't budge.

  “Tell me where she is,” my mother orders, this time infusing her command with a little bit of raw will.

  Liana spits out the information.


  “Are you going to fly over and get her?” I ask, loving the drama of it all.

  “I was thinking I'd start with a phone call,” my mom answers, and disappears into the kitchen.

  Right.

  Ticktock, ticktock. The tension in the air is thick. Who knows what's going to happen? What if there's another fight?

  Suddenly, the smoke detector goes off.

  “It's my mom,” Fake Me says. “She likes to make a smoky entrance.”

  “She was always a drama queen,” my mom says with a sad smile.

  We run to the kitchen. As the smoke clears, a tall, thin figure appears by the stove. A tall, thin, dark-haired figure who looks like Mom, except she has a bigger chest and fewer wrinkles. Fewer wrinkles makes sense. She is the younger sister. “Hello, Carol,” she says.

  “Hello, Sasha,” my mom says, walking over to her. “It's been a long time.”

  The two women are standing about a foot apart, staring at each other.

  Nobody moves.

  Nobody breathes.

  Nobody—

  “Achoo!” I sneeze.

  “Quiet!” snaps the fake me.

  “Gesundheit!” says my sister.

  “So,” Sasha says, now circling my mom.

  “So,” my mom says, standing her ground, arms folded across her chest.

  “It has been a while,” says Sasha.

  “A long while.”

  Sasha looks her up and down. “Your hair's red.”

  “New look,” says my mom. “You look exactly the same.”

  “I've aged well. Better than you.”

  “Which is it, plastic or magic?” Mom retorts.

  “Nature, of course,” says Aunt Sasha. She tears her eyes away from my mom and looks at the fake me. “You've grown.”

  Well, duh.

  “Actually,” my mom says, “you're looking at your own daughter. She's in my daughter, and vice versa.”

  Sasha looks at the fake me, then at the real me, and then back at the fake me. “Are you sure? My daughter would never wear her hair that frizzy.”

  “Mom!” exclaims Fake Me. “I can't help it; it's her hair!”