Bras & Broomsticks (30 page)

Doree giggles. “Because yesterday he had the biggest zit ever. And she has the biggest shnoz. But I shouldn’t say that,” she tells the others. “Rachel used to be friends with her.”

Doree, Melissa, and Stephy laugh even louder.

I stare at the carpet.
Used to be friends with her.
But now I’ve traded her in. For the
fabulous
company beside me.

Jewel pats me on the back and gives me a quarter smile.

I wonder if just a few months ago Doree said something demeaning about me and then added, “But I shouldn’t say that. Jewel used to be friends with her.”

And Jewel just sat there, staring at the carpet.

I’m eating a quick breakfast before Saturday’s rehearsal when Miri runs into the kitchen, wearing a T-shirt and underpants. “You’ll be back at one, right?”

“Yes, Mir, I’ll be back at one. For the rally. I haven’t forgotten.”

Her smile lights up her face. “Awesome! I’m so excited. I’m going to spend the rest of the day training with mom and then practicing my high roundhouse kick.” She squats and lifts her fists to her hips, in the ready position. “I can’t seem to nail it. It’s much weaker than my snap kick. It’s probably because—”

“Do you have everything you need for Dad’s love spell next weekend?” If I wanted a Tae Kwon Do lesson, I’d sign up. And I’m beginning to wonder what exactly takes place during these mysterious training sessions. If I didn’t have, oh, ten million things occupying my thoughts, I’d ask.

“Almost,” she says, and whips out a list from her shirt pocket. “I need to pick up some yogurt. The one we bought last time is past its expiration date. Oh, did I tell you that Tammy called last night? I told her you were sleeping, like you said. She left you a message.”

I swallow my cereal along with the lump in my throat. “What did she say?”

“That Jeffrey invited Aaron to a party, and Aaron invited her. They wanted you to go with them. And if you woke up, to call her cell.”

Tammy definitely gets the greatest-friend award. And I get a kick in the butt.

The day gets worse. Melissa is in charge at rehearsal, which makes it particularly painful, and Raf is home sick.

At least I have Jewel.

“Melissa, how much longer are we going to be?” I ask.

She stops the music and positions her hands on her hips. “Why? Do you have something else to do that’s more important? I’m sure London would love to know what it is.”

I can’t believe she’s threatening me. We were only supposed to be here until noon, and it’s already half past. “Whatever.” I’m out of here in ten minutes, no matter what.

“You sure? I don’t mind if you go. London told me to tell her if you gave me any attitude.”

Why does she even need me here? I don’t have to do anything but stand and look interested. I’m about to tell her where to get off when Raf hunches through the doorway.

Melissa gestures to all of us to stay put. “How are you feeling?” she gushes.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m still tired, so I’m just going to watch instead of dance.” He looks pale, as if someone rubbed chalk on his cheeks.

An
aw!
goes through the room. Melissa massages his back. No way am I leaving now, when she’s trying to fondle my quasi boyfriend.

“I’ll be right back,” I mutter. Not that anyone can hear me from my exile in the corner of the room. I call my sister from the pay phone by the bathroom.

“Where are you? I want to go already,” she squeals into the phone. “I am so excited. I’m wearing tights under my jeans so I can stay warm.”

I take a deep breath. “Mir, I’m really sorry, but there’s no way I’m getting out of here anytime soon.”

“Oh.” Silence. “But you promised.”

“I know I promised, but I can’t leave. Melissa is being horrible and the show’s in two weeks.”

“But the peace rally is today.”

“Miri, I can’t. Ask Mom to take you.”

The next thing I hear is a dial tone. Did she . . . Did my little sister hang up on me? I don’t believe it. She’s never hung up on me. She’s never hung up on anyone.

I slip back into my spot in Siberia.

“So nice of you to join us again,” Melissa yells over the music, then returns her hand to Raf’s forehead. “You don’t feel too warm,” she coos.

What a miserable week. My sister and Tammy hate me, and my rival is flirting with my quasi boyfriend. Can’t something good happen?

My body starts to tingle. I look up. Raf is watching me. I give him my best aren’t-I-cute smile, and he winks. My skin feels warm, as if I’m being kissed by the sun.

This will all pay off in two weeks. When I’m at Spring Fling with Raf. When I won’t need the sun to feel like I’m being kissed.

It’s all worth it.

Isn’t it?

19

THE ENCHANTED PARENT TRAP

The next week passes in a blur of rehearsals, midterms, and assignments.

Monday: Rehearse at lunch, rehearse after school. Go to Soho and get fitted for Izzy Simpson dress. Woo-hoo! Come home, still getting silent treatment from Miri about missing peace rally. Trail her around apartment, tail between my legs, until she finally breaks down and forgives me. Realize I’ve forgotten all about Huck Finn. Plan on reading a hundred pages. Fall asleep after five.

Tuesday: Rehearse at lunch, rehearse after class. Go back to Soho for second designer fitting. On way home from practice, realize impossibility of reading an entire book in one night. Do something always promised self would never, ever do. Stop at bookstore and buy Cliff’s Notes.

Wednesday: Rehearse at lunch. English class. Oddly, instead of getting nailed by Ms. Martel for reading Cliff’s Notes instead of real book, know all answers and come across as Huck Finn genius. Apparently, Ms. Martel gets questions from teaching guide at back of Cliff’s Notes. Would call her lazy, but that would be like pot calling kettle black. (No idea what that means. Why would a pot call a kettle black? Who has a black kettle? Have never seen black kettle.) Rehearse again after school. Return to Soho for third designer fitting. Feet begin to ache.

Thursday: Mortified by Hayward when she holds up perfect score in front of whole class. Jewel gets A-, which she’s pretty excited about. No idea what Tammy gets, since we’re no longer friends. Rehearse at lunch. Write French midterm. Rehearse after school. Back to Soho. Feet begin to swell.

Friday: Rehearse at lunch. Rehearse after school. Back to Soho for final fitting. Feet now feel as if they’ve been set on fire whenever pressure is applied. Get home in time to argue with sister about reasons for not accompanying her to Long Island. Reminded by sister that STB will be mental case with wedding so close, and that twenty-nine wedding updates have been sent to guests in past week. (In-boxes have twice been clogged with massive JPEGs.) More begging follows. Notice sister’s pursed lips and sudden waft of cold air, and warn sibling that if she jinxes the show in any way, she will find herself in serious hot water! Lips unpurse and room warms up. Review plan to steal father’s belongings, and send sibling on way. Will miss father this weekend, but happy ending is in store.

Saturday: All-day rehearsal. Feet in severe pain. Might have to amputate.

By the time I stumble home from
another
all-day rehearsal on Sunday, I feel like a cavewoman, barely able to stand upright.

“Did you get something of Dad’s?” I ask, poking my head into Miri’s room. She’d better have. The wedding is in six days.

Six days!

She’s writing at her desk and doesn’t look up. “Yup.”

“What did you take?”

“A sock,” she says, still not looking up. I know she’s mad at me because I deserted her this weekend, but there was nothing I could do. It’s now eight thirty Sunday night, and she arrived home even earlier than I did.

Why is she being so annoying? Hello, Miri, look up! I plop myself onto her bed and lean my feet against the wall. “A dirty sock or a clean sock?”

“Clean.”

“Good. Because I’ve smelled Dad’s dirty socks, and I doubt Mom would be able to sleep on one.” At least that’s one trait from my parents I didn’t inherit. Smelly feet. I think. I bend my leg toward my nose. Smells fine. “What other ingredients do you need?”

She keeps writing. “Don’t worry, I took care of it.”

“You took care of all the ingredients?”

“Yeah. All done. And the spell. And the fractions. The sock is already under Mom’s pillow.”

Oh. Well. “All righty then. You’re very efficient.”

She continues writing, fully ignoring me. How long can a person hold a grudge?