Crush Control (30 page)

All day, Georgia and I sat on pins and needles wondering if and when we would notice a change.

But late that night, Georgia called and said she'd just heard a song dedication on Star 94, the local Atlanta station.
This song is for my beautiful love goddess, Willow Grey,
the DJ announced, then spun some sappy love song.

The next morning when Quinton picked me up he handed me an envelope. Inside was a white sheet of paper with individual letters from magazines and newspapers cut out and taped onto the paper to spell out:
I will always treat you like the most special girlfriend in the world. Love, Quinton.
When I looked up at him, he had that look in his eyes again—that wild, possessed look. It was starting to really scare me.

I showed the note to Georgia in English class and we both agreed with a huge wave of disappointment that the cleansing spell had obviously not worked. We needed to find another option. And fast.

Georgia reassured me not to fear. The re-hypnosis had gone down in flames. The cleansing potion was a washout. But she had a new plan. I crossed my fingers and thought,
Third time's the charm.

“Voodoo?” I asked, frowning. “Are you serious?”

“I think it could work,” Georgia said, and opened the browser on my computer to the website.

Voodoo is the most powerful means a person has to control their situation and make their life better
, the description read
.
Well, I had to admit I liked how that sounded.

We needed to order two dolls—one that would represent me and one that would represent Quinton. Georgia used her secret credit card and placed the order. In the meantime, I needed to collect a sample of Quinton's DNA. The website suggested a sample of hair, snipped directly from the head, as it seemed to work better than samples obtained from a hairbrush.

So the next morning, I stashed a pair of scissors in my purse. On the ride to school I kept my hand pressed inside my bag, ready to grab the scissors and snip, but I decided not to do it while he drove. Last time I startled him, we'd had a fire. We couldn't risk an accident.

“You're quiet this morning,” Quinton said, stroking my knee.

“Just tired, I guess.” My hands were sweating.
Where should I cut so he won't feel it? So it's inconspicuous? Just behind the ear?

“Jake told me that Mia told him she saw the nominations for Homecoming Court, and guess what, baby? We're both on the list.” He smiled at me.

“Oh wow,” I said. I wondered if after Quinton's love spell vanished and we broke up, my sudden popularity would dwindle as well. Probably. But, truthfully, I didn't care anymore. Because I didn't want popularity and attention if it came at the price of permanently altering someone's life.

We got out of the car and walked toward Quinton's locker. I lingered by his side. He looked down at me and smiled a dopey grin. I reached up and ran my fingers through his disheveled hair. My heart rate accelerated. With my other hand I gripped the scissors from my purse. Slowly I sneaked them behind his ear. I sectioned some hair between my two fingers and snipped.
Got it!
I almost yelped with glee!

Quinton ruffled the back of his ear like he had an itch, and I eased the hair clipping into my pocket.
Score!

“Miss Grey!” A cold, reprimanding voice silenced the hallway.

I spun around. It was Mr. Robertson, the calculus teacher.

“Scissors are not allowed outside the classroom.”

“Um, ah, I just had a loose string here hanging from my sleeve. I was going to, you know, snip it off.”

“Oh!” he gasped. “Those are not even school-approved safety scissors. Those look like kitchen shears! They are strictly forbidden on school grounds!”

“What?” I caught my breath.

“You need to come with me,” he said, pointing down the hallway.

“Mr. Robertson, come on,” Quinton said, but his charms were useless.

“Right now!” Mr. Robertson barked.

I scampered over and followed him down the long hallway. My heart raced. My throat closed up.
Was I going to the principal's office?

Mr. Robertson went inside to talk to Principal Bigham, leaving me to sit on the hard-cushioned bench outside. My eyes burned. My life was a mess. A complete mess! And just when things couldn't get any worse, who should turn the corner and walk right toward me but Max.

I wanted to dive under the bench and hide, but it was too late. A huge smile broke across his face. He walked toward me. “Well, if it isn't Willow Grey,” he joked. “Sent to the principal's office, eh?”

“It's not funny,” I said.

“I think it's pretty funny. What did you do?”

I started doing that awful thing were you can feel your nostrils flaring back and forth, your eyes are blinking, and your throat is convulsing, all because there's a big pool of tears just waiting for the dam to break.

“Hey,” Max said. “I'm just kidding.”

“Well, so maybe I'm
not
adventurous anymore, okay?” I sort of screamed at him. “Maybe I'm not like that brave, hilarious girl you grew up with. Maybe sitting here outside the principal's office scares the crap out of me. Maybe I've just been trying really hard to make everyone think I'm fun and dynamic and cool—the life of the party—but really, deep down, I'm just boring. Dull.”

“What are you talking about?” Max asked. He sat down next to me. The warmth of his body enveloped me.

“Maybe it's all been one big lie,” I said softly.

“Why would you lie to me?” Max asked. And he had that look on his face that he had at the park—serious, honest, maybe even a little bit of longing. Or was that just me looking for it?

“Or is it Quinton you're lying to?”

I swallowed.

“Because you don't ever have to lie to me. I'll always be here for you, no matter what.”

As a friend? Or as more?
I needed to know. I had to ask. At the park it had seemed like he was telling me to break up with Quinton. Was I misunderstanding him?

“Max,” I said. “I'm—”

The glass door swung open. “Willow Grey,” a voice boomed. It was Principal Bigham. And I had no choice but to leave.

I got off with a warning. And they confiscated the scissors. But I still had Quinton's hair in my pocket and a newfound inspiration to fix this mess. Not only did I need to undo the love spell to free Quinton from mind control, but yet again I'd gotten the impression that I could have a chance with Max if I wasn't dating Quinton.

“The voodoo has to work!” I said to Georgia as we sat at my kitchen table and tore open the box that had been FedExed overnight from New Orleans.

“Weird,” Georgia said as she extracted the two voodoo dolls. They were made from two sticks tied into a cross with thick stringy wire—Spanish moss, the paper said—then wrapped in fabric. Two stuffed heads were attached and marked with two buttons as eyes. Georgia looked over at me. “Do you have the strands of Quinton's hair?”

I nodded and pulled out the ziplock bag of hair.

Georgia sighed. “He really does have nice hair.”

“Focus!”

She snapped back to the instruction sheet. “ ‘The doll is an energy-focusing tool. It represents the spirit of the specific person you identify.' ”

I looked at the diagrams. “It says to affix the DNA sample according to the illustrations, but to be careful not to interact with the doll in any way until you're ready to begin the voodoo.” I used crazy glue to stick Quinton's hair to the top of one doll's head. Then I pulled some strands out of my head, and we glued those on the other doll.

“Okay,” I said. “We need to spread this red string from his chest to mine. Then we use the corresponding red-tipped pin to stick the string into each doll's heart. This represents the current relationship.” We laid the string accordingly and used the pins to adhere each end. “Now I'm supposed to use very sharp scissors to cut the string right in the middle to sever the love.”
Shoot.
Our scissors were sitting in Principal Bigham's office.

I went into the kitchen and found a sharp knife. “I don't know,” I said. “Maybe we should go to your house and get some scissors. I mean, I think we should follow the instructions exactly.”

“How will I explain to my mom why we drove all the way there to get scissors? Plus we need to do this before Quinton's hair strands have been separated from their DNA source for too long. The instructions say that recent connection to the person is vital.”

“Okay,” I said and held the knife above the string. “Should I saw at it? Like a piece of steak?”

“Here, give it to me.” Georgia took the knife and placed it under the string with the blade facing up. In one quick swoop, she sliced the knife through the string. But the rapid movement plucked the pins out of the voodoo dolls and flung them across the room.

“Oh no!” I cried, and raced to pick up the pins. “What do I do? Stick them back in?”

“I don't know,” Georgia said, still holding the knife. “Does the red pin, like signify the heart? Are you feeling any pain? Tightness in your chest?”

“I don't know,” I said, grabbing at my chest. “My heart has been racing ever since we started this.”

“So no change?”

I shook my head.

“Maybe it means now you're
heartless
? Like the Grinch.”

“WHAT?”

“No, no, just kidding!” she cried, but I was on the floor, scrambling to pick up the red pins. I raced over and shoved them back into the voodoo dolls.

“Whew,” Georgia said. “That was close.”

I sat back down and tried to catch my breath.

Georgia looked at the instructions. “Now it says to use a yellow string and yellow pins to connect your hearts to signify that you are still connected, but as friends.”

I placed the end of the yellow string over the Quinton doll's chest and jabbed the yellow pin into the fabric.

“Careful!” Georgia shrieked. “Don't break his ribs or give him a heart attack!”

“Okay,” I said. Just as I was gently repositioning the yellow pin, Oompa jumped up into my lap, jolting my hand and causing me to make a small tear with the pin. A long strand of Spanish moss poked out.

“Oh my God, you've punctured his intestines!” Georgia said.

“Oh no!” I pushed Oompa down and used the yellow pin to frantically stuff the protruding string back in. “Do you think we should use some scotch tape?”

“I don't know! Let's just get this yellow string attached. Fast!”

I looked down and saw I had frayed the ends of the yellow string. I frantically reached for the knife, sawed a nice sharp edge, and restuck the pin into the fabric one more time. By the time the voodoo doll sequence was complete, we were both frazzled and sweating like we had just performed open-heart surgery.

“It's fine,” I said, panting. “Everything's going to be fine.”

I gently placed the dolls inside an empty camcorder box I'd found shoved in the corner of Mom's closet and eased the dolls under my bed just as Mom walked in the door. She eyed us with a look that made my insides go squishy.

“What are you guys up to?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Georgia said, then gave me a wide-eyed
this is going to work
look. She gathered her things and left.

It has to work,
I thought. Th
e clock is ticking. Quinton is spiraling. Mom's getting suspicious. And if Quinton's love spell stays, I may forever lose my chance with Max.

The next morning when Quinton picked me up, I noticed a rip straight through the fabric at his chest. My mouth gaped open.
Could it be?
I reached over and touched the rip. “What happened?” I asked.