Earthy Triplet raises her hand. “It means trust,” she says.
“Excellent.” Fizguin turns to write something on the board but keeps talking.
Ring! Ring!
Someone’s phone! How embarrassing.
Ring! Ring!
Oh, crapola. It’s mine. It’s not loud enough for Fizguin to hear, but it might be if she shuts up for a sec. I reach into my purse and fumble to turn it off. How do I make it stop ringing? There’s a Mute button somewhere. Where is it? I really should have read the instruction manual…. I look at the caller ID. Raf. Raf! I know I shouldn’t, but what else can I do?
“Hello?” I whisper, sinking into my seat.
“Hey!” he says, his voice sexy as always. “What’s up?”
“Um … nothing. You?”
“Why are you whispering?”
Because I shouldn’t be on the phone! “Because I’m …” Where could I be? Ack! “At the dentist.”
Miri snorts. I elbow her in the side.
“On a Saturday?”
“He’s a weekend dentist. It’s, um … his hobby.”
“You’re not allowed to talk when you’re at the dentist?” he teases.
“My mouth hurts. I have a cavity.” Just brilliant. “Can I call you later?” Fizguin is going to turn around any second!
“Sure. I’m going to the park, but I have my cell. Good luck.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, and close the phone.
Why didn’t I just tell him I was at the library? That would have made a lot more sense. I’m at the library studying Animal Farm, verb conjugation, trust, and truth.
And to be honest, I’m having some issues with that last one.
At the break, we all spill into the atrium.
Corey is sitting on a window ledge, obviously waiting for Miri.
“There he is!” my sister squeals. “What should I do?”
“Laugh!”
“Why?”
“It’ll look like you’re having fun!” I explain. “Guys like girls who have fun!”
“But I have nothing to laugh at.”
“Pretend I said something funny! Ha, ha, ha!”
“You’re so weird,” she says, and laughs.
“You’re doing it! Well done!”
“I’m not faking,” she says. “I’m laughing at you.”
Meanwhile, Corey is smiling at her. So cute! He is pulling a thread off his shirt, trying not to look overeager. He likes her! He really likes her!
We smile back and join him by the ledge.
“Did you guys get home okay?” he asks.
“Yup. No problems.” I scan the room and spot Adam on the other side. Should I wave? I don’t want him to think I like him. I don’t want him to think I don’t. Why am I so confused? I give him a half wave to cover all bases.
Adam sees us and hops over. “What’s up?”
“Hey,” I say, flushing. “Will you show us where the Potionary is? We need to get the Babel potion.”
“Sure,” Adam says, and we follow the two boys down a long yellow hallway. At a purple wall, he knocks four times in a row and says, “Gazolio!” The wall morphs into a counter.
A ponytailed man in a lab coat pops up behind it. “What can I get for you?”
Adam motions for me to approach.
“Kesselin Fizguin sent my sister and me to get the Babel potion?” The counter smells like a mix of a grocery store and my chem class. The wall behind him has built-in shelves lined with glass vials filled with multicolored liquids.
“No problem,” he says, handing us a pen. “I just need you both to sign in.”
When I don’t see a book to write in, I ask, “Where should we sign?”
“Oh, in the air is fine.”
Miri and I give each other a look but do as we’re told.
“Babel, right?”
“Yes,” Miri says. “So we can speak Brixta.”
“Got it,” he says. “B, where’s B?”
“After A and before C,” Corey says.
Hey, Miri’s boyfriend is a wannabe comedian.
The man—potionist?—pulls a vial off the shelf, and a second one immediately appears in its place. He pulls that off too. “Here we go. One for each of you. It lasts about three months.”
I hold my vial up to the light. It’s yellowish green. I re-move the stopper and lift my vial to Miri’s. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” she says.
We clink and then chug it down. Not bad. It’s sweet and tangy, like honey, lime, and green apple. My tongue begins to tingle.
I wait.
“It takes about ten minutes to kick in,” the potion-ist says.
“Have either of you ever taken it?” I ask the boys.
They shake their heads.
“I learned the boring, traditional way,” Adam says.
“It’s not going to stain my teeth, is it?” I ask the potionist.
“It shouldn’t,” he tells me.
“Thanks for your help,” I say, and then lead the group back to the atrium. “Have you noticed how the go spell leaves a residue in your hair?” I ask them.
“I have,” Adam says. “But the running spell? That’s the worst. Your toes are webbed together for a week.”
I laugh. “You tried out for the track team, huh?”
He winks.
“What about the singing spell?” Corey says. “It makes your teeth itch.”
“How come you tried a singing spell?” Miri asks.
He turns red. “I’m in my school chorus.”
Wow, he’s just as geeky as she is. “I should try the singing spell,” I say. “I’ve always wanted a good voice. How good of a voice do you get? Like rock-star good?”
“Yup,” he says.
“Ooh! You know what we should do?” I say. “Ask the potionist for the singing spell and then try out for American Idol!”
The three of them groan. “I don’t think they’re having tryouts right now,” Adam says. “But we can practice with karaoke tonight.”
“Yeah,” Corey says. “I know the best place to go in Tokyo. All the songs are in English.”
Japan. Why not?
“Can you guys come?” Corey asks eagerly.
Tell me, who goes to Tokyo for karaoke? Besides Japanese teenagers, of course. “We can’t,” I say slowly. “We have to have dinner with our dad.”
Miri looks crestfallen. On one hand, I’m disappointed— Tokyo! Cool! Sushi with witch friends! On the other hand, I’m relieved. If we don’t hang out, then I don’t have to tell Adam about Raf. If we don’t hang out, I’m not doing any-thing wrong.
Corey looks crestfallen too. “Too bad. Another time.”
“Maybe we could all do something later this week,” I add. Why did I say that? I shouldn’t have said that.
The lights begin to flicker.
“Mywitchbook me!” Miri calls out to Corey as we head back to class.
Maybe I should join Mywitchbook. Maybe I shouldn’t make plans to hang out with boys who are not my boyfriend.
“Now,” Fizguin says when we’re all reassembled, “let’s talk about mustrom. Who can tell me what that is?”
Wait a sec! I know what she just said! I understand! “Courage!” I blurt out. Whoops. Indoor voice, Rachel.
“Very good!” Fizguin says. “I see you took Babel. Can someone tell me what we witches should have the courage to do?”
“Embrace our magic?” says a girl in the back.
“Yes!”
“Follow our convictions?”
“Yes!”
Miri scribbles in her book and then passes it to me to read. Tell your father you’re a witch?
I pick up my pen and write back: Gut giken vy! Which translates to Stop annoying me.
But it sounds more musical in Brixta.
Urla (Brixta for You’ve Got to Be Kidding Me)
We’re about to order at Al Dente when Jennifer asks my dad if he knows what polpetti is.
“Meatbal
ls,” I say, studying my menu.
“And pesci ?”
Miri takes a sip of water. “Fish.”
“Are you guys taking Italian this year?” my dad asks.
“No,” we say.
Miri kicks me under the table. “How did we know that?” she whispers.
“I have no idea.” But how cool? I speak Italian!
“I’m so impressed!” Jennifer says. “What does this mean?” She points to an item in the menu.
Miri pushes back my chair. “Rachel, come with me to the bathroom for a sec?”
“Certamente,” I reply.
Prissy thumps her tiny hands against the table. “Me too! Pony ride to the bathroom!”
“No ponies at the restaurant,” Jennifer barks. “Would you girls mind taking her?”
“Whatever,” Miri says, rolling her eyes.
Jennifer bites into a bread stick. “How do you say thank you?”
“Grazie,” we respond, then look at each other. I’m thinking maybe we should stop answering translation questions before Jennifer starts giving us weird looks.
Prissy grabs hold of our hands and drags us toward the bathroom. “How do you say pretty ?”
“Carina,” Miri says.
“Miri,” I warn.
“Tell me I’m pretty!” Prissy says. “Tell me I’m pretty!”
I open the door. “You’re pretty.”
“Noooooo, tell me I’m pretty in Italian.”
“How crazy was that?” I say to Miri. “I guess the spell works for more than just Brixta.”
“I wonder if it works for every language.” Miri pushes Prissy into an empty stall. “Pee. Now.”
I hope it works for French, too. That would certainly make studying for my upcoming test easier.
“You have to put paper down on the seat for me,” Prissy orders. “Mommy says so.”
Miri lines the seat while muttering, “Rompicoglioni.”
I could translate that, but I won’t.
It’s not very nice.
Back at my dad’s, we decide to call Wendaline to see what she can tell us about the Babel potion. I try to encourage Miri to call Corey, but she’s too embarrassed. Obviously, I’m not calling Adam.
Wendaline’s voice mail clicks on. “No answer. Should we text her? Or get in touch on Mywitchbook.com?”
“Just leave a message,” Miri says. “It’s already ten. She’s probably out doing fun magic stuff.”
“Hi, Wendaline, it’s Rachel Weinstein. If you could call me back when you have a chance—”
Boom!
There’s a blast of cold, and Wendaline Appears in the center of our room. “Hi, guys!”
Miri and I both shriek.
“You called?” Wendaline asks.
“You scared me!” Miri says.
“Wendaline,” I say, “what did I tell you about Appearing?”
She smiles sheepishly. “I thought that since we weren’t at school, it was okay?”
“It isn’t! Normal teenagers do not Appear in other teenagers’ bedrooms. Here’s how it works: I call you. You call me back. We make plans. You do not just Appear!”
She digs her heel into the carpet. “Sorry.”
“Keep your voice down,” I order. “My dad is right on the other side of the wall.”
Wendaline sits on the edge of Miri’s bed. “I’d love to meet him.”
“Not gonna happen,” I snap. “Anyway, we have a question. Have you ever used the Babel potion?”
“Oh, I love the language potion!”
“You’ve used it before?” I ask.
“Mm-hmm. I spent a weekend in Rio during sixth grade. I would have preferred to learn Portuguese more organically, but—”
“When you used it, could you understand every language or just Portuguese?” I ask, cutting her off.
“Just Portuguese, but I’ve heard that the spell has evolved. Let me ask my friend Imogen. She might know.”
Wendaline snaps her fingers. “Imogen?”
The lanky girl Appears beside Wendaline. “Hello,” she says with a thick British accent.
What, now we’re having a party? Have these people never heard of the phone?
“You’re up!” Wendaline says. “Isn’t it like three in the morning in London?”
“It absolutely is. I was playing on that dreadful Mywitch-book. Have you tried the iSpell application? I’m obsessed! Hello again,” Imogen says to me, then turns to Miri. “Lovely to meet you. What can I do for you?” she asks Wendaline.
“Do you know if the Babel potion works for multiple languages?”
She sits down beside Wendaline. “Hmm. Have you checked the book?” She snaps her fingers, and her copy of the spell book materializes in the center of the room. The cover is decorated with pink and silver glitter. I’m so jealous! I want mine to be all sparkly!
“Miri? Rachel?” we hear from outside. My dad knocks on the door. “Can I come in?”
“Disappear!” I tell Wendaline and Imogen.
They look at me in confusion. Without thinking, I open the closet door and motion for them to hurry inside.
They follow, intrigued. “Is there a secret passageway back here?” Wendaline asks.
“Yup, see if you can find Narnia,” I say before firmly closing the closet behind them.
“Come in!” I say, trying to keep my voice even.
My dad opens the door. “Everything okay in here? It sounded like you were screaming.”
“I was just showing Rachel a new Tae Kwon Do move,” Miri says.
Quick thinking, Miri! Or That means good job in Korean.
“Are you guys going to sleep soon?” He looks from me to Miri, then down at Imogen’s pimped-out copy of A2.
Uh-oh.
His forehead wrinkles. “What’s that?”
“Huh?” I say, stalling.
“That book,” he says, transfixed by it.
Miri gives me a meaningful look.
She wants to tell him. Right here. With Wendaline and Imogen in the closet.
I shake my head. No, no, no!
“Dad, there’s something we’ve been wanting to tell you,” she begins.
She’s going to tell him! What if he freaks out? What if he’s scared of us? What if he looks at us differently?
What if he doesn’t love us anymore?
He fell out of love with Mom, a little voice inside me says. What’s stopping him from doing the same with us?
Miri clears her throat. “Last February, Mom told us that—”
No! I can’t let her! “We needed to keep a scrapbook.”
Dad’s eyes dart between me and Miri.
“Yes,” I continue, “Mom said that we need to better catalog our lives. So we’re creating memories—photos, poems, drawings—and taping them into that book.”
“That sounds like a fun project,” Dad says.
“It is,” I say. “It’s great fun. Lots of bonding. I’m wondering if you … um … if you kept the bill from tonight’s dinner? I thought I could put it in.”
He scratches his head. “Sure, I’ll save it for you.”
“Thanks, Dad. You’re the best.” I force a smile.
“Good night, girls. Love you.” He closes the door.
“Love you,” Miri calls.
“Love you,” I say, then whisper fiercely at my sister, “I’m so mad at you.”
“You’re mad at me?” She throws up her arms. “I’m mad at you! That was the perfect opening to tell him!”
“It’s not just up to you,” I say, and storm out of the room. I’m done talking about this. I’m getting washed and going to sleep. Miri follows me into the bathroom, where we brush our teeth, floss, and scrub our faces. We can’t tell him. We don’t know how he’d react. I mean, I know he wouldn’t really stop loving us the way he stopped loving Mom. He’s our dad. And it’s not like he stopped loving Mom because he found out about the witch stuff. He never even knew.
Wait a sec. Is it possible that he stopp
ed loving her … because he never knew? Because she was keeping such a big secret from him? I think this over as I make my way back to my room, drop my clothes in a pile on the floor, and pull a new pair of pajamas out of a drawer. I’m about to get into bed when I remember Wendaline and Imogen. They probably zapped themselves home by now. They can’t still be in our closet.
“Wendaline?” I whisper. “Imogen? You’re not here, are you?”
No answer.
Miri slides open the closet door and gasps.
Our closet is now huge. They’ve turned it into a den. They’re lounging on a long L-shaped couch.
“What did you do?” I squeal, leaping off my bed.
“It was a bit cramped in here,” Imogen says.
“We’ll change it back,” Wendaline says.
I step inside. They zapped up a flat screen! Excellent.
“It’s not Narnia,” I say, spreading out beside them. “But it’s not bad.”
On Sunday night, I stay up way too late talking to Tammy.
She tells me that things were even weirder with her and Bosh. They were quickly running out of things to talk about.
I tell her that no matter what happens, she’ll be okay. “And who knows?” I say. “Even if you guys break up now, you could still get back together one day. Maybe when you’re in college.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. If you want to know the truth, I think we’re going to break up for good.”
“That’s so sad.”
“I know, huh?” She sighs. “Let’s talk about something else. Tell me about your weekend.”
I wish I could tell her about the Eiffel Tower, or about class in Arizona, or about my fake den, or about becoming multilingual. I wish I could tell her about everything. My heart skips a beat. Could I? She loves magic stuff! She wouldn’t think I was a freak. She plays with sharks! She won’t be afriad of me!
Maybe I could tell her. Maybe I should. She’s my BFF. Isn’t that what a BFF is for? To be your friend no matter what?
Although … well, Jewel was my BFF too, wasn’t she? And look how well that turned out.
What if Tammy went the way of Jewel? What if she too is more of a BFFN—Best Friend For Now?
I could always tell her and then give her a forgetting spell if we stopped being friends. No, that won’t work. Spells on people only last a few months. If I gave her something to forget the truth, it would rub off. I would have to keep giving it to her again and again and again….
Parties & Potions Page 15