Out of Sight (4 page)

O
N TUESDAY MORNING SOPHIE YAWNED AS SHE
carefully put on her Eddie Henry guitar pick necklace and finished getting ready for school. She had spent most of the previous night levitating above her bed while softly reciting the
Flying Code
, which she had to say was full of the most stupid rules she had ever seen in her life.

After all, why would you have to give way to a djinn who was wearing a blue turban but not to a djinn who was wearing a red turban? It made no sense at all, and of course she couldn't ask Malik because he hadn't bothered to come back from his golfing trip. Not that she was worried about him, since once he had gone out for an ice cream and had come back three days later with a T-shirt that had been signed by the entire cast of
Cats.
From the West End in London. She just hoped that he wasn't being quite as adventurous this time around because she was desperate to keep going with her flying-carpet training.

Plus, there was still the small issue of how they were going to break into Sheterum's house. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more irresponsible she realized Malik was being by just disappearing. She was considering trying to summon him again when her mom called out to tell her that breakfast was ready.

Sophie flicked off the music she had been listening to and picked up the manual from where it was sitting on her bed. Then she tucked the art auction brochure inside the cover and took it over to her sock drawer, where the small vial of Solomon's Elixir was carefully hidden. She took the vial out for a moment and studied the shimmering amber liquid inside. Considering it was the most-sought-after elixir in the djinn world, it had been surprisingly easy to make. There was no chanting, meditating, or even leaving something during a lunar eclipse. Just lots of pounding, pasting, and waiding (which, she had discovered on the Internet, was a bit like stirring). But according to Malik, the secret was in the measuring, and that's what her father had obviously spent his life on perfecting.

It seemed impossible that something so insignificant looking would actually free her father. But then again, since Sophie had accidently managed to get herself bound to Melissa Tait, she understood all too well how strange the whole system was. Still, hers was not to question why, and so she hid everything away, glad that her mom wasn't a serial snooper, before grabbing her backpack and hurrying downstairs to the kitchen.

Meg was already in there, sullenly staring at a plate of pancakes, which were burned to within an inch of their life. Even Mr. Jaws was looking at them dubiously, but the minute Sophie walked in he turned his attention to her as he began to hiss. She ignored him and sat down.

“So what's the special occasion?” she asked; her mom tended to make breakfast only every now and then—and unfortunately, this appeared to be one of those “now” times. As she spoke she wished that her pancakes would taste better than they looked and did the same for Meg's—there was no mention of not being able to use her powers to save them from food poisoning. A familiar tingle went through her, and she took a cautious bite. They now tasted like waffles.

“No special occasion.” Her mom gave a casual shrug. “It's just since I delivered my latest pottery order yesterday, I thought I'd cook breakfast. I didn't want you girls to think I'd been neglecting you.”

“I don't mind being neglected,” Meg immediately retorted, still refusing to touch the blackened pancakes, despite the fact that Sophie was giving her an encouraging nod. “Especially when it means I can go and eat breakfast at Jessica's house.
And what's wrong with your hair? It looks weird.
”

“There's nothing wrong with my hair.” Her mom automatically reached up and touched her shoulder-length blonde hair, which was once again neatly brushed and falling around her face in a shiny curtain. “I'm not in my studio today, so I thought I would make an effort.”

“Well, I think you look very nice,” Sophie said in a positive voice, since, when their dad had first left them, her mom had sometimes gone for weeks without even looking at a hairbrush. Maybe the fact that she was doing so now meant that, on some level, she knew that he would be home soon? The thought made Sophie smile, and she shoveled another piece of burned pancake into her mouth.

“I don't like it,” Meg suddenly announced. “I think you look better when your hair's all messy. And I don't like these pancakes either.” Then without another word she pushed her plate away, flounced into the living room, and turned on the television. A second later the sound of a shark documentary blared out at them. Sophie looked at her mom in surprise.

“What's wrong with her? Has she had another fight with Jessica?” Sophie asked. Her sister regularly switched between loving and hating her best friend, Jessica Dalton, depending on what day of the week it was.

“I don't think so.” Her mom shook her neatly brushed hair and started to gather up Meg's untouched breakfast. “She's been in a funny mood for the last few days. I was hoping she might've mentioned something to you?”

“No, sorry.” Sophie finished off her burned-pancakes-that-tasted-like-waffles and then felt a little guilty as she realized how distracted she had been with making Solomon's Elixir and practicing her flying lessons, not to mention spending so much time with Jonathan. But before she could answer, Kara and Harvey poked their heads through the back door. Harvey took one look at the burned pancakes and widened his eyes in horror. Sophie giggled as she jumped to her feet and grabbed her backpack. “Anyway, I'd better go.”

“Okay, well, have a great day.” Her mom planted a kiss on her cheek before turning toward the living room, no doubt to start trying to convince Meg to get ready for school. The minute they were outside her two friends turned to her.

“So did you go flying? How was it?” Harvey demanded.

“Were you careful?” Kara asked in concern. “You didn't let Malik talk you into doing anything stupid, did you? No loop-the-looping, I hope.”

“Definitely no loop-the-looping.” Sophie shook her head. “Can you believe that for once in his life, Malik was incredibly serious? He won't even let me near the carpet until I've perfected my levitating and memorized the
Flying Code
. Though he did say that if he was satisfied that I knew everything, then he would let me have a go this afternoon, as long as he could get some kind of stabilizer for it, which I think is flying-carpet talk for training wheels.”

“Jeez, sounds like he's turned into the DMV.” Harvey rolled his eyes in an unexpected fit of disgust. “Why can't he just let you fly it already?”

“Harvey, you were the one who didn't even want me to get a skateboard because you saw a movie about a ten-year-old girl who fell on her head,” Sophie reminded him as the bus pulled up in front of the school and they all got out.

“Yes, but that was a skateboard. They are highly dangerous. Whereas this is completely different.” Harvey gave a dismissive wave of his hands, and his normally concerned expression was replaced by one of eleven-year-old-boy excitement. “I mean, straight up, there's nothing cooler than this.”

“Well, hopefully Malik will let me get on the carpet soon. I spent most of the night levitating, and when I woke up this morning, I discovered that my hairbrush was up by the ceiling. It was like I was on the space shuttle. I guess I must've made it levitate in my sleep.”

“That's crazy,” Kara started to say, but before she could finish, her cell phone started to beep. She looked up and grinned. “It's from Patrick.” However, her smile faded as she studied the screen.

“What is it?” Sophie asked in alarm. “Has something happened?”

“Yes. I mean, no. Well, I'm not sure.” Kara shook her head as if trying to collect her thoughts, and she gripped her cell phone tightly. “Patrick's in the auditorium, and it looks like someone has vandalized Colin's tail. Anyway, he said that it's not bad but that he wanted me to know.”

“Kara, that's awful.” Sophie's voice shook with sympathy. While she didn't exactly understand the whole papier-mâché process, she
did
know how important it was to her friend. “Can he be fixed?”

“Patrick thinks so,” Kara conceded as she hitched her bag farther over her shoulder. “Would you guys mind if I bailed? I want to have a look at him before homeroom.”

“Of course not.” Harvey quickly shook his head. “I'll walk with you as far as the computer labs.”

“Thanks,” Kara said, a frown still plastered to her face. “Who would want to hurt a poor innocent flying monkey?”

“I've got no idea.” Sophie gave her friend a quick hug. “But hopefully we can find out soon. I'll see you guys in homeroom.”

“Thanks.” Kara sniffed as she and Harvey hurried down the hallway as fast as their long legs would take them. Once her friends were gone, Sophie headed for her locker (which, in geographical terms, was in Siberia).

Out of habit, she glanced over to Jonathan's locker, before remembering that he was going to be away all day at a basketball tournament. Stupid basketball. Still, even looking at the spot where he stood every day made her smile as she busied herself sorting out her books. But it wasn't until she had shut her locker that she realized that something like snow was landing on her head.

She craned her neck toward the ceiling and let out a groan when she caught sight of Malik, sitting cross-legged on top of her locker and eating a croissant. She quickly brushed the crumbs out of her hair and tried to figure out why he was wearing a black beret and a blue-and-white-striped T-shirt and had a thin black mustache penciled in on his upper lip.

“Too much?” he immediately asked as he touched the mustache. Sophie ignored the question as she glared up at him.

“Seriously, where have you been?” she hissed in a low voice, since she had long discovered that talking to a ghost in public places tended to make her look like a crazy person, and right now crazy wasn't a look she was going for.

“I've been playing golf,” he said, floating down to the floor. Then he wrinkled his nose. “I thought I told you that.”

“Yes, but you've been gone since yesterday afternoon. How long does a golf game take?” Sophie demanded and nodded her head in the direction of the janitor's closet just beside her locker. It had kind of become their impromptu office—not only was it private, but they had never yet seen a janitor in it.

“Not very long,” he explained as he followed her in. “Only problem was that Philippe had a hankering to go to this course in Bordeaux. And trust me, he is one dead djinn who does not like taking no for an answer. Still, it wasn't all bad. We did have some nice snails.”

Sophie blinked. “You went to France?”

“Well, yes, why else would I be wearing this ridiculous outfit?” Malik asked, looking confused. “You know, I don't mean to criticize, but for a positive person, you're sounding a bit stressed. So what's the emergency?”

“Remember my dad? How we need to rescue him?” Sophie asked in a tight voice. “I was practicing my levitation all night and learning those stupid flying rules while you were playing golf.”

“Hey, playing golf is very therapeutic. You should try it sometime. And speaking of therapeutic, I don't suppose you could rustle me up some Cheetos?”

For a moment Sophie was tempted to say no, but then she reminded herself that, despite all of his faults, there was no way she could've managed any of this on her own. Plus, Malik was under the mistaken impression that his pouting made her feel sorry for him. When actually all it did was remind her that everyone over the age of fifteen was insane.