by Ariella Moon
“Yeah. Halloween is so not my favorite holiday anymore.”
Mom arched her brows. “Mine either.”
I glanced at the three easels set up near the windows. “The collages look great.”
Mom’s expression brightened. “I have an appointment with a gallery next week.”
“Awesome!”
“I talked to your father while I was working on them.”
“Was he calling from a satellite phone in heaven?”
Mom bumped her shoulder against mine. “No, but he would if he could.”
“He’d be too busy doing a photo essay on Gandhi or something.”
“From war to peace. That would be a nice change.” Mom sighed. “Anyway, I tell him about you. How you dyed your hair, that you wear his cap. Those sorts of things.”
I swallowed the enormous lump lodged in my throat. “Sarah says the veil between worlds is thin this time of year.”
Mom twisted her emerald wedding ring. “I know. The house feels different, like there’s something going on we can’t quite see.”
I debated telling her about Teen Wytche.
“How is Parvani coming along with her witchcraft project?”
I blanked, but then remembered the little lie I had told her in the bookstore. “I don’t know.”
“Madrun Ravenwood has her eye on Parvani. Any idea why?”
I shrugged, which, technically, wasn’t lying. I slid another card into an envelope.
“Parvani doesn’t seem like the type to dabble in the Craft, unless she was desperate.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, say she decided to do a spell to help her maintain her A average.”
“She wouldn’t be harming anyone if she did,” I said, thinking of my spell for help in math and science.
“Maybe not, but what if she believed magick could help her dance again? She might hurt herself.”
Wait a minute. “Sounds like you know a lot about the Craft.”
“I studied it out of self-defense.”
“Why?”
“I went to school with Madrun Ravenwood, remember? And we both had a crush on your dad.”
My heart skipped several beats. “You didn’t do anything to bind Dad to you, did you?”
Mom remained silent. My pulse spiked. “I was tempted,” she said at last. “Especially since I thought Madrun was up to something. But now I’m so glad I didn’t.”
“Why?”
Mom’s eyes welled, making me sorry I had asked. “Because if I had, I would never have been sure he loved me. I’d always fear he had run off to dangerous countries to escape me.”
I clasped her arm. “That’s not why he did it.”
She patted my hand. “I know.” Her voice sounded choked. I knew, spell or no spell, Mom harbored the same fear I did—Dad hadn’t loved us enough to stay home.
“Your Nana dabbles in the Craft.” Mom sniffed. “She must not be any good.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because she promised to put a protection spell around Dash.”
“Are you serious?”
Mom’s lower lip quivered.
“You can’t blame Nana for Dad’s death.” It’s my fault, not hers. He gave me his lucky cap.
Mom shrugged and arched her eyebrows, like she didn’t believe me. Then she cleared her throat, a sure sign she intended to change the subject. “It’s nice to see you and Jordan getting along again.”
“Yeah.” I reached for a second batch of cards and glanced at the clock. Eleven-fifteen. In an hour, I could try to call Parvani. With any luck she’d be in Mr. Ross’s room, or the library, and miss the gossip hotline.
Mom slid one of the water maidens into an envelope. “Isn’t it weird? You and Jordan have hardly spoken to each other in years, and now you’re buddies again.”
I did not want to discuss Jordan with Mom, so I reached for another card.
“Your dad always hoped you and Jordan would become friends again. Maybe he’s helping you along.”
“Sure, Mom. Dad’s playing cupid from the great beyond.”
“Stranger things have happened.”
I thought of Teen Wytche transforming into an honest-to-Goddess grimoire. What if Dad had guided me to the spell book?
Chapter Twenty-One
Mom didn’t break for lunch until one, so I missed my chance to call Parvani. Then, before I knew it, three forty-five had arrived. I paced my room, picking my way around the piles of clothes that had mushroomed again. Twice I reached for the phone, then talked myself out of it.
By four o’clock I started to wonder—did Parvani have piano today? Math club? Community service? Why hadn’t she called? Was she still speaking to me? Had Salem warned her not to do the spell?
I reached for the phone. It rang as I touched it, nearly giving me a heart attack. “Hello?”
“Zhù is missing again.” Parvani sounded breathless.
“What?”
“I happened to be passing by Room 222 when sixth period got out. No Zhù. Then after school, I ran into someone who has seventh period Spanish. She said Zhù didn’t make it to Spanish either.”
“Maybe he’s out sick.”
I heard the rustle of satin and figured Parvani had just sat down on her canopy bed. The pink duvet matched Parvani’s old toe shoes. She’d gone through tons of pairs before she’d had to give up ballet. They were tacked up on her walls, creating a three-dimensional border along the top. The effect was way cool, though kind of sad, given how much Parvani missed performing.
“He was in HG before lunch,” Parvani reported.
“Have you tried texting him?”
“Yeah. No response. I wish you had a cell phone so you could try. Maybe it’s just my number he’s blocking.”
“Zhù wouldn’t. He’s crazy about you.”
“Get serious.” Parvani’s voice softened like she wanted to believe me.
“I am serious. You’re the only one who can’t see it.”
“We’re just friends.”
Yeah, like Jordan and me. I heard more satin rustling.
“Evie, you still there?”
“I’m here. Listen. Don’t worry. I bet you’ll hear from Zhù by tea time.”
Parvani sighed. I could just imagine her adjusting her glasses. “All right. But let me give you his number. Maybe you could try calling him.”
“And say what?”
“Make up something about Yearbook. I don’t know.” She proceeded to give me Zhù’s cell phone number. I wrote it down in pencil on the back of an old movie ticket stub. “How was your first day of suspension?”
“Okay. Mom’s on deadline, so she made me stuff envelopes all day.”
“Oh, fun. Well, I better do my homework before the Terrors get back from karate.”
“Okay. About the spell…”
The line went dead.
Parvani hadn’t mentioned Jordan. Not once. Which made me wonder—what if I could get Zhù to ask Parvani to the Halloween dance? Thinking of our tutoring date on Saturday, I decided to go online and check my homework assignments on the school’s website. I didn’t want him to cancel on me because I had missed class, too.
The homework for Spanish involved reviewing what we had studied earlier in the week, so my two-day suspension shouldn’t disqualify me as a tutor. Operation Get-Zhù-To-Sweep-Parvani-Off-Her-Feet could commence.
I waited until I had finished the homework and eaten dinner before I called Zhù. After the fifth ring, I heard, “Hey. You’ve reached the Zhù-man’s voicemail. You know what to do.”
Zhù-man? I tried not to laugh. “Hola Zhù-man. It’s Evie. Just confirming I’m still on top of Spanish, despite my two-day house arrest. So see you Saturday at four. Adiós.” At least now, if Parvani asks, I can say I called Zhù. I just can’t tell her why.
Zhù didn’t call back in the evening, or the next day. By Saturday, I started to worry. Maybe he did have a dread disease. Or maybe his parents had taken away his phone.
Then again, it was hard to imagine Zhù going over his allotted minutes.
That afternoon, an hour before we were supposed to meet, I was deep into studying Teen Wytche, wearing the pentacle necklace hidden beneath my shirt. The phone rang. “Hello?”
“Evie, it’s Zhù.”
I sat up straighter in the beanbag chair. “Hey. What’s up? Are you still coming over?”
“Yeah.” His voice sounded funny, like he was running or something. Then I heard a small thud. “I just wanted to make sure you’d be home. Sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner.” His voice caught again, and I heard another light thud.
“What are you doing?”
“What? Oh, just jumping over some stuff my sister left out. Your house at four?”
“Sure.”
“Great. Thanks.”
I pushed up Dad’s cap and scratched my head.
****
An hour later, the doorbell rang. Mom got to the front door before me and greeted Zhù. She waved to his mother, who sat behind the wheel of a blue, older-model BMW. A stiff autumn breeze blew red and yellow maple leaves across the driveway as Mrs. Wong drove off.
Zhù’s hair was wet and shiny and he smelled yummy, like he had just gotten out of the shower. He wore jeans and a crimson Stanford sweatshirt. I wore jeans and my navy Cal hoodie. This does not bode well. The two schools were bitter rivals.
Since there was no Plan B, I forged ahead. “Come in out of the wind,” I said. Mom opened the door wider so Zhù could enter. I held Baby by the collar. “Hola.”
“Hola.”
Mom closed the door behind him. “I’ll be in my bedroom if you need anything.” She wore a blissful expression, as she always did after a shipment of cards went out on time. I figured she’d spend the next two days immersed in a romance novel.
“Okay. Thanks.” I led Zhù into the kitchen.
His chest puffed out as he inhaled the warm scent of baked chocolate goodness. Just as I’d hoped, he eyed the pan of steaming brownies. I’d babysat enough times to know how to woo kids—how much harder could it be to bend a male math geek to my will? Judging from Zhù’s hopeful expression as he laid his backpack on the kitchen table, the answer was, not too hard.
“Would you like a brownie?”
“Sí. Gracias.” Zhù pulled out a chair and sat down. His back stayed board-straight, not touching the chair, the same perfect posture as Parvani.
I placed three brownies on a plate for him. Teen Wytche said three, seven, nine, and twenty-one are lucky numbers. He inhaled two before I could even open my textbook. “I didn’t have time to eat after my workout,” Zhù explained.
“Would you like some water or milk? Hot apple cider?” Mom doesn’t allow soda in the house, so his options were kind of limited.
“Water, please.”
“Sure.” Since I was already ruining my appetite for dinner, I threw a bag of popcorn in the microwave. Popping sounds filled the kitchen, and the theater-like odor of butter and salt overlaid the rich chocolate scent. At Zhù’s feet, Baby salivated.
I handed Zhù tall tumblers of water for both of us, and then poured the popcorn into the blue snowman bowl. “Have you read the vocabulary list?” I asked.
A few kernels spilled out of Zhù’s hand and left grease marks on his binder paper. “No. I haven’t had time to check online yet.”
He did look kind of tired, in an otherwise-fit way. “Here. I made you a copy.”
“Thanks.”
I was so going to earn my seven bucks an hour.
We reviewed pronunciation and memorized which way the accent marks should slant. Then we moved on to expressions.
“Me gusta béisbol. I like baseball,” Zhù said.
“Bueno.” I decided to sneak in a reference to Parvani. “Parvani gusta escuchar música.”
“I know. Sometimes we share her ear buds.”
“Her list is a little heavy on classical. Probably because she plays piano, and used to dance ballet.”
“Yeah. Me too.” He stared down at my notes.
I was pretty sure he just meant he liked classical music, but maybe he played piano as well. I’d heard music and math used the same part of the brain, which may have been why I couldn’t do either. “Of course, she also likes a lot of modern stuff,” I added. “You know, stuff you can dance to.” Hint. Hint.
Zhú bit into his third brownie and nodded.
“You know, she’s been kind of worried about you.”
He stopped mid-chew. “No way. Why?”
“Because you keep missing your afternoon classes. She’s afraid you might have a dread disease.”
Zhù resumed chewing. And blinking. For a smart guy, he sure appeared dumbfounded. “I’m surprised she noticed.”
“Oh, she noticed.” And she’d kill me if she knew I’d said anything.
A long moment of silence descended. I hoped Zhù would tell me why he’d been absent. Instead, he grabbed a handful of popcorn and studied my notes. I gave up and spent the next hour sprinkling in Parvani’s name as much as I could without seeming too obvious. I swore I could see Zhù taking mental notes. He must have a huge file in his head marked Parvani.
“You two sure have a lot in common,” I said as our time ended.
He blinked at me from behind those rimless John Lennon glasses. “Yeah. Too bad opposites attract.”
“Not always. Besides, I hear that never lasts.” At least I hoped it didn’t, in Parvani’s case.
The doorbell rang, setting off gruff barking from Baby. “Must be my mother.” He handed me a ten. “We went over a little.”
“You sure you don’t want change?”
“Nah. Thanks for all the help. Same time next week?” The bell rang again. Mom must have been in the bathroom, or immersed in her novel. I opened the door. “Parvani!”
“Hey.” Her triumphant expression dissolved when she noticed Zhù standing behind me. Her head jerked, as if her world had upended. “Zhù! What are you doing here?”
Zhù and I gaped at each other, trying to come up with a plausible explanation.
“Yearbook,” I blurted out.
Zhù exhaled a long, raspy breath. The boy sucked at acting.
Parvani narrowed her eyes, as if we were an algebra equation where x didn’t quite equal two. Which happens to me a lot, but not to Parvani. Her nostrils flared. I had the terrible feeling popcorn and brownie smells clung to us. I checked the front of my sweatshirt for crumbs.
“Wouldn’t a phone call have been easier?” Parvani asked, her voice cold.
“Um.” Well, she had us there.
Zhù fished a turquoise flash drive out of his backpack. “You should make a copy of this.” He handed the device to me. “It has all the photos we worked on.”
“Oh, right.” Quick thinking. I slipped the flash drive into my pocket. “Good thing you remembered. We could do it now…”
Over the almost-silent purr of Dr. Hyde-Smith’s Lexus came the unmistakable sound of a skateboard rolling over blacktop. The rhythmic noise grew louder. Jordan maneuvered into view, eddies of wind-tossed leaves swirling at his feet.
Jordan jumped the curb. For a split second he sailed in silence, then slapped down hard. The wheels rolled across the concrete, sounding coarse and gritty. Then he picked up speed, skating full out, and shredded the air, going higher than I had ever seen. I held my breath until he landed safely on the driveway. He slowed to a stop and stomped on the back tip of his board. The front end catapulted into his hand.
Zhù stiffened. Parvani blinked several times. My insides did a quick rollercoaster dive.
“Hey.” Jordan knuckle bumped Zhù, then flashed an ingratiating grin at Parvani and me. Unbuckling his helmet, he glanced down at the small bag Parvani held in a white-knuckled grip. “Someone’s birthday?”
“No.” Parvani glanced at her dad. He gestured for her to hurry up.
“Actually,” Parvani said in her most clipped British way, “I wanted to show Evie something.”
>
I peeked at the bag and recognized Sage Mage’s blue tissue paper and the lingering stench of incense. “But since you have company,” Parvani continued in a strangled voice, “it can wait.”
“What did you procure?” Zhù asked.
“A Buddha statue.”
“Cool,” Jordan said.
Parvani adjusted her glasses. “I want to pick up the stuff I left here the other day.” Icy fury and wasp-like determination laced her voice. She pushed between Zhù and me.
“I’ll be right back.” I threw Zhù a pleading glance, then flew back to my room. Parvani knelt on the floor, stuffing the black handled knife and the pink candle into the bag with the river rocks.
“You told me to check on Zhù. Why are you mad?”
“I told you to call him, not date him.”
“This wasn’t a date!”
“I thought I could trust you.”
“You can. I have no interest in Zhù.” Just Jordan.
“Right.” Parvani peered under my math book and some papers on my desk. “Where’s Teen Wytche?”
“We need to talk. The book says there are serious repercussions if you direct a love spell at a particular person.”
“Is that why you directed your spell at two people?” She picked up a dirty blouse and a pair of mud-stained jeans, unearthing the spell book. At least she hadn’t noticed the willow wand.
“What are you talking about?”
“You know what I mean. Zhù and Jordan.”
“Are you crazy? I didn’t perform a love spell on either of them.”
A knock on my bedroom door silenced us. I turned my back on Parvani and opened it.
“Hey,” Jordan said. “Parvani, your dad looks like he’s going to have a fit or something. You better get out there.”
“He can wait another minute. He and my mother are headed off on one of their little vacations from the kids.”
That might partially explain why she’s so mad.
Jordan stepped back so Parvani could storm past. He glanced up at my Shay Stewart shrine and his eyebrows bounced toward his shaggy bangs.
With humiliation blazing across my cheeks, I ran after Parvani.
“I expected more from you,” Parvani scolded Zhù. Her voice cracked as she shouldered past him.