I feel her eyes boring into me. “But I’m your best friend! You have to talk about it.”
“Tammy, I can’t.” My throat closes up. There are so many things I wish I could tell her. About Raf, about the Sam, about Adam, about my dad. My dad, who we still haven’t heard from. Two days and no phone call.
Tammy would understand. Her parents are divorced too, and she would know just what to say. She always does. But how can I trust her? Sure, she’s my best friend today, but what about tomorrow? She broke up with Bosh. What’s stopping her from breaking up with me? What if I had confided in Jewel? She might have told the whole school by now. I can’t tell Tammy. I just can’t. The tears threaten to spill onto my cheeks, so I turn away from her to wipe them.
I feel her arms around my back, hugging me. “I’m so sorry. You talk to me whenever you’re ready to. I’m always here for you, you got it? Always.”
I nod and blink my tears away.
My cell phone rings in the middle of lunch.
“Excuse me,” I say when I see Adam’s number on the caller ID.
I hurry over to the window and away from my curious friends before answering it. “Hello?” I’ll tell them it was Miri calling with some sister emergency.
“What are you doing?” Adam asks.
“What do you think I’m doing?” I say. “I’m in school. I’m about to have mac and cheese.” My eyes did tear up at the sight of the mustard, but then I said to myself, Mustard? What kind of crazy person puts mustard on mac and cheese? Seriously.
“Yum. It’s meatball day over here. Trade you?”
“What’s up?” I ask.
“Promise not to laugh when I ask you this,” he says.
“I can’t make promises like that. What if what you tell me is really funny?”
“It kind of is.”
“Lay it on me.”
“How would you feel about taking a dance lesson for my Sim?”
Laugh? More like groan. “Seriously?”
“Do you care? It would just be one hour tomorrow night. Does that idea make you miserable?”
“Is this because I told you the fashion show story? You’re worried I’m going to make a complete fool of you?”
“No!” he says quickly. “That’s not it at all. I swear. I’m the one who can’t dance. And I just thought it might be fun.”
Yeah, right. I spot Melissa and Jewel in the lunch line and think of the fashion show. “We’re not going to have to do a routine, are we?”
“No routine. Maybe learn the waltz, or the surky”
“Er, what exactly is the surky?”
“The witch dance that you will be learning tomorrow at five Lozacea time?”
I sigh. Surky-shmurky This date thing is sounding like a lot of worky.
It’s the next day, and we’ve been practicing the dance for three hours. We’re in yet another one of Lozacea’s secret rooms. This place is like a labyrinth. I would not want to be here by myself at night. I would never find my way out.
Anyway, we’ve been practicing this “surky” for the last hour and a half. It involves a few dips, a couple of turns, and a whole bunch of coordinated steps. Matilda, the woman who tested my magic, is also the dance teacher. She zapped me into heels, a leotard, and a matching skirt when I got here, not approving of my school uniform of jeans and sneakers. I reached for my heart necklace straightaway to make sure it was still there, but then remembered I had replaced it with the broom charm from Wendy.
Yeah, it was a pretty sad thing to do.
At least Wendy was happy to see me finally wearing it.
Raf didn’t see the switch, since the avoiding spell is still in full use. It’s pure genius. I could avoid him all day. I could avoid him all year if I wanted. What I could not avoid was the buzzing about the breakup.
I overheard my girlfriends asking Tammy for details, and her telling them it was none of their business.
I saw the glint in Melissa’s eye. I’m sure she can’t wait to sink her claws into him.
I heard the pity in Kat’s voice when I told her I wouldn’t be able to make the Halloween dance.
“Just come on your own!” she told me, assuming I wasn’t coming ’cause I didn’t have a date. Puh-lease. Skipping an event because of datelessness? That’s so last year. All my friends are planning on going stag. But not me. I have enough Halloween stress, thank you very much. And any-way, the gym is barely fifty feet, and Raf will definitely be there, since his brother’s girlfriend is planning it.
“Rachel, you have to focus!” Matilda yells, snapping me back to the dance. “One, two, three, your turn is coming up.”
“Isn’t there a potion we can take to learn this?” I whisper to Adam. My feet are starting to hurt.
“Yeah,” he says, smiling and tightening his arms around my waist. “But isn’t this better than a potion?”
Huh. He’s enjoying himself. He really does think this is fun.
And I wish I were at home watching TV.
When I was with Raf, I would enjoy anything we did together. Fashion show rehearsals. Poster hanging. Anything.
If only I were here with Raf… No, no, no!
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to make thoughts of him disappear.
“Six, seven, right! Turn, Rachel, turn, no, no, no turn!”
I keep my eyes closed and turn. I had to break up with Raf! I just had to! What else was I supposed to do?
“No, no, no, Rachel, you turned the wrong way! Again,” she grumbles.
The wrong way, maybe. But the right decision, definitely.
That Friday, along with five hundred of his closest friends, I watch Adam perform his Sim. Yup, five hundred witches on the Golden Gate Bridge. It’s witchapalooza.
Unlike Michael, Adam aces it in one shot. No repeats necessary. No uncomfy audience squirming. All his pillars are unblocked and working just perfectly.
Unfortunately, as his date, I’m forced to sit with his family during the ceremony. “You and my nephew make the cutest couple,” his aunt whispers to me, giving me a major case of the squirmies.
The words we’re not a couple want to pop out, but I give them a solid swallow and smile politely instead. I mean, she’s not wrong. We do make a pretty cute couple. And I should be dating a warlock eventually anyway, right?
After the ceremony, a tall woman named Jenny (Sim planner to the best witch families, according to Glamour Triplet) ushers us to a slide that takes us under the bridge. They’ve frozen the bay so it looks and feels like we’re walking on water. They also placed an avoiding spell on the en-tire area, so passersby and tourists are rerouted.
Before I sit down, it’s time for the first dance.
Adam takes my hand.
I take a deep breath. I can do this. It’s just one song. The music starts, and I get the moves (er, most of them) right, and the gazillion guests applaud.
“Are you having fun?” he asks me.
“Definitely,” I say, and I mean it. Kind of. What’s not to like? It’s Friday night, we’re dancing under the stars, the lights of San Francisco are sparkling in the distance, my friends are here, the waiters are passing along mini egg rolls.
Life is good. Isn’t it?
When the song finishes, Miri, Corey, Viv, Karin, Michael, Fitch, the triplets, and even Wendy join us on the dance floor. I kick off my shoes and let the music take over. When you dance, you don’t have to think. At least, I don’t. Which might be partly why I’m not the world’s best dancer, but whatever.
“You okay?” Miri asks me a few songs later.
“Fine! Great! Why?”
“You seem … possessed.”
I flick her on the arm. “Thanks. It’s not like I’m already self-conscious enough about my dancing.”
“I don’t mean it like that. I just—”
“I’m fine! It’s all good!”
The music is thumping, and we’re dancing and I’m having a ball. I am.
This is my world. The witch world.
<
br /> When another slow song comes on, Adam beelines for me. He takes my hand and pulls me into him. “I really like you,” he murmurs in my ear.
“Oh. Yeah. Um. I like you too,” I say. I do like him. I do. Adam and I make sense.
His smiles and closes his eyes.
I sway back and forth and watch the city lights flicker like candles, making me homesick for New York.
After the party, we land with a thud in the bathroom.
My ears are ringing, and my feet are hurting, but it was a
good night. It was.
“You seem weird. Are you upset about Raf?” Miri asks me.
“Yes! Stop bugging me! I had a great time.”
She shakes her head. “Mom? We’re home!”
“Miri, shush, it’s four in the morning here.”
She covers her mouth with her hand. “Whoops. I forgot.
Then why are all the lights on?”
“Girls?” my mom says. “Can you come into the living
room, please? You have a visitor.”
We slowly make our way into the other room. On the couch beside our mother is our dad.
A Family Affair
I take a step back, tasting the lump in my throat. What’s he doing here?
Miri crosses her arms. “I don’t want to talk to him.”
“Girls,” he begins.
“I said I don’t want to talk to him,” my sister repeats, eyes steely.
“Miri,” my mother begins, “I know you’re upset. But you need to listen to what your father has to say.”
She snorts. “Why? He didn’t want to listen to us.”
“I’m sorry,” my dad says, hanging his head. “I’m sorry I reacted the way I did.”
“That’s it?” Miri says. “You’re sorry. Big deal.”
When did Miri get so tough?
“You have every right to be mad at me,” he says. “I should have reacted better. I should have listened to you. But can you try to put yourself in my situation for a second? I had no idea”—he waves his hand in the air—“about any of this. It was a hell of a shock. I found out that my two daughters are witches, and that the woman I had been married to for over ten years is one too. And I had no idea. I was over-whelmed.”
I guess that could be a bit of a whammy “But that was a week ago,” I say. “You could have called.”
“I know.” He looks up at me and meets my eyes. His are rimmed with red. “I’m sorry.”
No one says anything.
“I’m sorry too,” my mom says. “I know you girls are angry with your dad, but this is mostly my fault. I should have told your dad years ago. It might have saved us all a lot of pain.”
“And a lot of money in couple counseling,” my dad quips.
My mom laughs. “That too. But more recently, I shouldn’t have let you keep such a big secret from your father. Parenting is a shared responsibility, and I should have insisted you tell him about what was happening to you.”
“I wish you had told me about you,” Dad says to her. “I might have been surprised at first, but I would have gotten over it.” He closes his eyes and then turns back to us.
“Does that mean—” A sob escapes my lips before I can stop it. “Does that mean you still love us?”
“Oh, girls, of course I still love you. I will always love you.” He opens his arms. “Come here. Do you still love me?”
Without thinking, I run to my dad. The tears are flowing and I’m sobbing and nodding and he’s patting my hair, telling me that it’s all going to be okay. Yeah, he screwed up, but he’s here now. He needed some time to get used to the idea.
Unlike me, Miri is still standing apart. “Are you gonna come to our Samsorta?” She picks at her fingers. I almost yell at her not to ruin her nails now (after a week of no biting, they’re just starting to heal), but it hardly seems like the right time.
“If you want me,” my dad says, “I’ll be there. What’s a Sumorsta?”
“It’s like a group bat mitzvah for witches,” I say. “And I want you there.” He smells good. Like home. Like Dad. I wipe my fresh tears away with the back of my hand.
“Do you want me there?” he asks Miri.
“I want you to want to be there,” she replies, clasping her hands behind her back.
“Then there is nothing I want more than to come to your Sumorsta,” he says.
I giggle. “Samsorta.”
“Samsorta,” he repeats. “I guess I’m going to have a lot to learn. And maybe next weekend you can show me what you can do with these powers.”
“A little Jedi action?” I say.
“Exactly.”
I hug him tighter.
Today is the dress rehearsal, except without the dresses. Also, we’re at Lozacea because apparently, witches are allowed in Zandalusha only once a year, which is fine by me. It still sounds creepy.
The other difference about today’s class is that our alimities, aka our moms, are here too.
Mom recognizes Karin’s mom from the old days, and then Karin’s mom introduces her to Viv’s mom. Hey, maybe the two of them can be New York witch friends.
Once we’re all in the auditorium and on the stage, we run through the whole ceremony from start to finish. Well, as much as we can without any of the other schools.
First up, we practice the opening march.
Next we practice the alimity bit. There’s lots of giggling, and lots of listening to our moms tell us how “It feels like just yesterday when I was on the other side of the circle,” which is kind of funny. Our moms! Having their Samsortas! Seems impossible, but I’ve seen the pics, so I know it happened.
Next our moms take turns asking us if we are willing to join the circle of magic. This part starts with the oldest Sam-sorta, which I kind of assumed was me. But Fizguin announces that the oldest woman is a twenty-four-year-old Australian from the Kanjary school.
I’ll admit it. I’m kind of disappointed.
Anyway, after our moms ask us, we practice agreeing, and then they pretend to remove a lock of our hair with the golden knife.
Miri and I both have hair appointments with Este on Monday morning (Mom’s letting us both take the entire day off school), and in addition to getting our hair done, we’re going to get her opinion on what Mom can cut without ruining our do’s.
Next our moms all practice walking toward the central cauldron and pretend to drop the piece of hair in the center. Once they’re done, it’s time for the Chain of Lights service. We go around the circle, saying the light spell, setting the candle aflame one final time.
I’m about halfway into the circle, and I clear my throat before beginning.
“Isy boliy donu
Ritui lock fisu …”
I do the whole thing, no problem. Once my candle is lit, I listen as Miri does hers and then wink when she’s done.
The warmth of the flame feels nice against my cheeks. I think about how even though my dad said he was coming, Miri still wouldn’t hug him. My dad seemed to understand. “Take your time,” he told her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He didn’t mean that literally, obviously, since he wasn’t moving back in with us. But you know. We decided that he and Jennifer would come to the Sam, but that they’d get a babysitter for Prissy. My dad thought it was best for everyone if Prissy was kept in the dark about our magic until she was older. They’d told her that the scene she had witnessed the other day was a dream. My heart feels full that my dad came around.
But as the wax drips down my fingers, I can’t help wondering if Raf would have come around too.
We’re done early, around three Lozacea time.
“Get a good night’s sleep Monday night!” Fizguin orders. “And I’ll see you at six Romanian time, which is nine Arizona time, or noon on the East Coast. Don’t be late!”
The moms all go home, and we head to the atrium to decide what to do now. After all, it’s Saturday.
“What are you doing here?” I ask when I spot
Adam and the rest of the guys in the atrium.
“Waiting for you,” he says. “We thought we should celebrate your last day.”
“Are you guys hungry?” Karin asks.
“Starving,” Michael says.
“I’m in the mood for pizza,” Preppy Triplet says.
“I know the best new place,” Miri says. “It’s called T’s Pies.”
“Yo, I’ve heard of it,” Viv says. “I’ve been wanting to try it.”
What? T’s? That’s what she wants to eat? I shoot Miri a dirty look, but she won’t catch my eye. She’s looking at Corey instead.
“We can conjure it up in the caf,” I say.
“But conjuring up food is kind of like delivery, and T’s Pies is best straight out of the oven,” Miri says. “Why don’t we all go to New York?”
“Sounds good,” Adam says, putting his arm around me.
My shoulders inadvertently tense, but I quickly unclench them. So we’re going to T’s Pies? No big deal. So he has his arm around me? Also no big deal. He likes me. I like him. We all like pizza. This is the plan.
“Go spell?” Karin asks.
“Batteries,” I say. “The bathroom in that place is kind of cramped.”
We zap ourselves into the alley behind the restaurant and then head inside. As we get closer, my heart starts beating faster. Miri is still avoiding my gaze.
We grab a table for eight. I sit facing the door, and Adam slides into the seat beside me.
When I pick up a menu, I realize that my hands are all sweaty. I’ve been reading the same pizza description over and over again.
“Rachel? That okay with you? Two pies for the table, one cheese, one with everything?”
I nod, squirming in my seat. What’s wrong with me? So what if this is Raf’s place? It’s over with him. I’m better off without him. He’s better off without me.
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