The Trouble With Spells (2 page)

“I need to go, Mom.
Shelly will be here any second.”

“Okay, sweetheart.
Have a nice day,” she replied while I grabbed up my backpack.

“You too.” I sent
her a quick smile before I turned to leave.

I ran out the door
to see Shelly pulling up in her pink Mustang convertible. I shook my head at
her color choice every time I saw it. Her parents bought it for her sixteenth
birthday. It totally set off her Barbie doll persona—big blond hair, bright
blue eyes, perfect figure dressed in the latest fashions. Not to mention she’s
dating Brad, the captain of the football team. The two of us were complete
opposites, but we’d been friends since kindergarten.

“Hey, girl!” she
called out to me
,
while leaning over to pop open the passenger door. “Hop
in!”

“Morning,” I said
absently, climbing into the car as I licked some jelly off one of my fingers.

Shelly immediately
launched into her fabulous date Brad had taken her on over the weekend. I
“ooh-ed” and “aah-ed” in all the appropriate places, while I watched the
scenery rush by.

I enjoyed the air,
which had almost turned fall-like. It wasn’t cold yet in Sedona, but the
weather had started getting a little of that nice crisp feel to it. That was
one of the things I loved about the Arizona climate, the warm seasons hung
around for a lot longer than most places. Of course, a nice snow in the winter
was always fun too, just to break things up a bit. It could get very hot in the
summer, but that was usually when a group of us would take the short drive up
into Oak Creek Canyon to go for a swim at Slide Rock State Park.

This year’s
excursion had been especially fun, since the water was high from a good snow
run off. When the water is low, you tend to get a lot more bumps and bruises on
the rocks. There is always the occasional swimsuit blowout from those tourists
who don’t know they should wear cut offs or board shorts to keep that from
happening. That’s always a good laugh.

My attention
drifted back to the present, when the car turned into the campus parking lot. Sedona
Red Rock High School isn’t a large school by any means. It only has about five
hundred students. Its red brick buildings were designed to blend in with the
giant red rock cliffs that surround the area.

The whole town has
a strict color code ordinance. Everything has to blend in. Even the lampposts
are brown instead of silver or green like anywhere else. The color thing can
sometimes be a source of controversy. People either love it, or hate it, but it
does lend the town a nice sense of ambience, I guess.

Shelly parked her
car in the closest space she could find and put the top up. We grabbed our
books and walked into school.

There were posters
plastered everywhere in the halls with giant scorpions on them, which is our
school mascot. The first football game of the season was coming up this weekend.
It was a non-conference game against the Snowflake Lobos. Their team had
creamed us last year, and everyone was determined to get hyped up so it didn’t
happen again.

The game also
happened to coincide with my sixteenth birthday. Since everyone on this
mountain is freakishly insane about football, my party was being held after the
game at my grandma’s, so more of my friends could come.

I coasted through
the school day. The only exciting thing that happened was when Mrs. Skipper
lost her glasses and couldn’t read our English lesson to us. The glasses were actually
on top of her head, which I thought she should’ve figured out immediately since
the whole class was snickering at her under their breath.

Shelly met me in
the hallway after last hour, and we headed out to her car. She rambled on about
all the unfortunate kids who had to ride the bus home. I wanted to remind her
that most kids around here don’t have parents who own a multi-million-dollar
spa resort like hers.

Her family’s
resort, which was named after them, was located on top of one of the town’s big,
red rock cliffs. It was called The Fountains at Fontane, and it was a really
nice place. I’d dubbed it my third “home away from home,” Grandma Mullins’s
being the second.

Shelly pulled up
in front of my house, which was situated at the bottom of the red rock cliff in
a Spanish-styled neighborhood. It was a small but pretty adobe-looking home,
complete with wooden beams and an interior courtyard, graced with a bubbling
fountain. It wasn’t anywhere near as fancy as Shelly’s, but I loved it.

“You want to come
over later?” Shelly asked as I exited the car.

“Thanks, but I’m
going over to my grandma’s this afternoon,” I said, shaking my head.

“Oh. Well, tell
Grandma Milly I said hi.”

“I will. She’ll be
sad you didn’t come with me.” I smiled at her.

“I would, but I
have a ton of homework.” She gave an exaggerated eye roll. “Apparently, my
teachers feel I have way too much free time on my hands.”

“Yeah, I have some
I need to do too. I’ll call you later.” I stepped away from the vehicle.

“Okay. Talk to you
then!” She drove off, waving her hand in the air behind her as she sped up the
hill.

I turned and went
inside, dumping my books on the kitchen table before I began doing my list of
after-school chores. I was done quickly
,
and a short time later polished
off the minimal amount of homework I had to do.

Grabbing an apple
out of the fruit bowl on the counter, I headed out the door and walked up the
street toward the highway, where my grandma’s shop was located.

Grandma owns one
of those metaphysical shops that are popular in this area. It’s called Milly’s
Lotions, Potions, and Notions. It’s a fun place to hang out, with books on all
sorts of subjects, as well as an assortment of crystals and candles for
purchase.

Grandma was very
good with herbs too, so she made her own lotions, soaps, shampoos, and other
ointments. She packages them up for sale in trendy brown bottles with green
labels. She also likes to read auras for people with this cool camera she has.
It takes pictures of people
and shows the colors surrounding them. Then
she reads the image and tells her customers what the colors in their auras
mean.

She held
meditation classes once a week, where she taught people how to achieve a deep
state of relaxation. These classes were conducted in a very calming room in the
back of the store. I used to go to them with her, but she started paying me to
run the register on those nights instead.

She had another
small room added on to the rear of the store after she met Babs, a local
massage therapist, and they decided to partner up together. Babs is a wonderful
person, and she and Grandma fast became best friends.

I arrived at the
store, stepping inside. The soft lighting and mellow music, along with the
pleasant herbal smells, always felt serene to me.

“Hey, Lollipop!”
Grandma called out from behind the counter where she was rearranging
merchandise.

Lollipop had been
her nickname for me as long as I could remember. I asked her how she came up
with the name, and she told me sometimes kids are sweet, and sometimes they
just need a good lickin’. I thought that was funny.

“You want to help
me stack these new lotions I made today? I’ve cleared a spot for them over on
the shelf in the corner.” She nodded in the general direction of a large box
filled with bottles.

“Sure,” I said. I
hefted the heavy box onto my hip and hobbled over to the shelves.

“I also got a new
batch of antique jewelry I thought you’d be interested in looking at.”

Grandma often
purchased antique crystal jewelry, which caught her fancy, and sold it in her
store. She also collected several beautiful pieces for herself. For as long as
I could remember I’d always been fascinated by them.

“That sounds
great!” I replied enthusiastically, excited to see what she had acquired.

“I thought maybe
you’d like to pick a piece out for your sixteenth birthday.”

“I’d love to!” I
replied with a grin.

I hurried to
continue my shelving until all the bottles were neatly arranged in perfect rows.
When I was done, I gathered up the box and headed toward the storeroom.

“I’ll meet you back
there as soon as this customer is finished,” she whispered as I passed by,
tipping her head toward a woman who had entered the shop.

I nodded and
stepped through the funky beaded curtain separating the backroom from the rest
of the store.

I broke the box
down and stacked it in the corner, where we kept the others waiting for
recycling, then went over to sit at the table in the middle of the room. It was
large and had bowls and bottles of different sizes scattered across it, which were
used for grinding and mixing herbs. I studied some of the containers for a few
moments before Grandma breezed in.

“Sorry to keep you
waiting,” she said, moving over to a counter against one wall. She picked up a
large, flat wooden case.

“No problem.”

She brought the
case to the table, popped open the latch, and lifted the lid.

“Wow!” I exclaimed,
as the beautiful pieces came into sight. There were pendants, rings, and
bracelets of all sizes and colors. I greedily took it all in, my eyes flitting
over the beautiful craftsmanship of an era gone by.

“See anything in
particular you like?” Grandma asked, the same light of excitement in her eyes.

“There are so many
choices.” I ran my fingers over piece after piece, taking in each design.

The chime on the
door in the front of the store jingled, alerting us to the arrival of another
customer.

“Keep looking. I’ll
be right back,” Grandma said, heading out of the room.

  I continued my
perusal of the gems until my eyes rested on a lovely violet pendant. Gently, I
lifted it out of the box, letting the heavily tarnished chain fall through my
fingers as I held the scrolling silver filigree surrounding the purple crystal.
I slowly ran one finger over the smooth and rounded oval stone. It sparkled in
the light so beautifully it was almost hypnotic.

I turned the piece
over to examine the back and noticed a small symbol etched into the bottom. It
was the letter P, in the middle of a tiny heart.

Well, that’s
convenient,
I thought. It was as if it was engraved just for me.

Grandma broke the
silence when she entered the room again.

“Did you find
something that speaks to you?” She smiled, her eyes flashing.

I held up the
purple pendant, and Grandma laughed.

“You have good
taste. This is the most expensive one in the bunch.”

“Oh,” I replied, a
little downhearted. “I can pick another one.”

“Nonsense,”
Grandma said, patting my shoulder gently. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. You
don’t choose the jewelry. The jewelry chooses you.” She reached out and took
the pendant from me. “You may have it on your birthday,” she added with a
smile.

I stood up and
gave her a big hug.

“Thanks, Grandma. This
is more than I would’ve imagined.”

Grandma laughed
again. “It’s only part of your present.” Her eyes twinkling in secret delight,
and I looked at her with anticipation. “No more hints!” she said, shaking her
finger at me. “I’ve said too much already.”

Chapter 2

It was Friday and
my birthday.

Shelly and I
pulled into the parking lot, grabbed our bags, and headed toward the school,
chatting between our selves about my party
,
which was to take place that
evening. I smiled at the few birthday greetings called my way by friends and
students heading in the same direction we were.

“Well, that’s
interesting,” Shelly said with a little smirk.

“What is?” I said
absently, not following her.

“Vance Mangum is
staring at you.” She gave an almost inconspicuous nod over her shoulder.

I couldn’t help
myself, turning my head to look.

She was right. My
heart skipped a beat.

Vance Mangum was
leaning up against his jet-black motorcycle looking straight at me. For a
moment our eyes locked, we just stared at each other. I couldn’t seem to break
my gaze away from him, until I tripped over the curb. Thankfully, Shelly caught
me before I fell all the way down.

I couldn’t resist
a quick peek again to see if he was still watching. He was, of course, and I
was mortified. I turned and hurried into the school.

All day long, I
found my thoughts drifting back to the incident.

Vance Mangum was
in a class by himself. He was a senior, who had the reputation of a resident
bad boy yet, despite that, every boy in school aspired to be like him in one
way or another.

They were always
trying to copy his cool messed up hair or getting their holey Levis to look
just as good. Some even attempted doing extra workouts to build their muscles
so their t-shirts would stretch across their chests like his. But no matter how
hard they tried, none of them managed to pull it off quite the way he did.

Of course, the
girls adored him. He was totally gorgeous, sporting the looks that went with
the physique—luscious, dark brown hair and chiseled features, set off by bright
blue eyes lined in thick lashes. The parking lot would come to a virtual
standstill whenever he would ride up on his motorcycle, decked out in a black
leather jacket and helmet. All the girls would cease whatever they were doing
and begin chattering about him together.

I definitely
hadn’t been immune to him either—often catching myself joining with the masses
to watch. In fact, if I were being truthful, I’d have to admit to the secret
crush I had on him since I first noticed him.

Vance never had a
girlfriend that I could remember. He’d only lived here the past couple of
years, and plenty of girls had
paraded themselves in front of him hoping
to catch his attention, but he just seemed oblivious to them.