T*Witches: Destiny's Twins (4 page)

CHAPTER SIX

A SIMPLE PLAN

Alex gave in. Much as she hated to admit it, Cam’s enthusiasm was contagious as the flu.

The plan they came up with was simple. They’d pull one of their traditional clashes. Then, as if disgusted, one of them would stomp out of their room, loudly slamming the door. The other would stay alone as bait. “Like a big, juicy, stinky hunk of cheese waiting for a rat,” was how Alex delicately put it.

“And that would be me,” Cam said, shaking her head at her sister’s imagery.

“Who said?” Alex wanted to know.

“Who usually stomps out of our room, loudly slamming the door?” Cam asked.

“Point taken. I’ll vanish,” Alex agreed.

Alex would then slip through Dylan’s room into the bathroom that linked his space with theirs. She would lie low there and listen for the clone to show up pretending to be her. Cam would be the bait, Alex the trap. At a signal from Cam, she’d pounce.

Then both of them would be in the room together.

With their third “twin.”

The creature couldn’t pretend to be Alex with the real Alex standing right there.

The intruder would have to come clean.

Simple.

But not easy.

For starters, Alex and Cam would have to keep in touch telepathically — piece of cake — but this time they’d have to do it without allowing the witchy stranger to pick up their thoughts. It was obvious he or she had done just that while the girls tried to communicate in school.

“Did you ever try to
send
a vision?” Alex asked hopefully. With her amazing eyesight, Cam was a whiz at seeing things nobody else could see. Things that were too far away, both in distance and time. Tuning in to the future was just one of her specialties. “You know, like you could think of an image and then concentrate really hard on sending it to me.”

Cam seemed puzzled. “Like scanning and e-mailing a photo?”

“Sorta. Think it, then forward it.” Alex clarified.

Cam wasn’t exactly experienced with calling up visions on demand. They usually took her by surprise, their arrival signaled by dizziness and a splitting headache. But she guessed it was worth a try. Closing her eyes tightly, she tried to see into the dark.

There was nothing but the usual blackness broken by flashes and dots of meaningless light. She opened her eyes and shook her head.

Alex sighed, discouraged. A second later, she snapped her fingers and said, “Got it!”

Cam looked skeptical.

“No, really,” Alex assured her. “I did it today. The copycat was pretending to be you in chem lab and I muted my thoughts by imagining an iron door clanging shut on them. It’d be a cinch for you to do — picturing stuff is your thing.”

“Scrambling our thoughts is not the hard part,” Cam pointed out. “It’s how to keep them from being intercepted by the clone.”

“I know, I know. But wait. Just listen.” Alex was flying by the seat of her pants, but flying nonetheless. “We can imagine the iron door, okay? But with a peephole in
it! You know, the kind that you can open and close. Then, when we want to talk to each other, we imagine opening the little flap and kind of sneak our thoughts through.”

Cam rolled her eyes.

“Dude, it’s the best we’ve come up with so far. Try it. Close your eyes and picture a big, bad, two-ton iron door. Only with a little eye-level opening in it. Oh, yeah, and just to add that mojo edge, let’s hold on to our charms.”

Closing her eyes, Cam grasped her amulet and did as she was told.

“Okay, now think something.” Alex ordered. “Let’s see if I can ‘hear’ it.”

Cam’s face pruned with concentration, then she laughed.

“What?!” Alex demanded. “Whatever you find so amusing, I don’t get it. So the door thing actually works, right?” Cam nodded, and Alex said, “Now the hard part. Try the peephole.”

In her mind’s eye, Cam imagined herself pushing the flap aside and peering through the thick door. To her astonishment, what she saw on the other side of the peephole was Alex!

Is it working?
she heard her sister ask.

If you can hear this, it is,
Cam thought. Grinning,
she eyed Alex’s newly dyed, gelled-back, pitch-black locks gleefully and sent again the message her sister had missed before.

“I did not use shoe polish on my hair!” Alex exploded, psyched despite herself. “And I do not look like a helmet head!”

Cam’s eyes flew open. “I think it might work!” she said.

So when replica girl shows up,” Alex proposed, “you can call me through the peephole. I’ll rush in. Then we can … what?” she wondered aloud. “Do the Transformer!” she announced a second later, congratulating herself on the idea. “Excellent. We can do the Transformation spell in reverse, change the clone back into whoever or whatever she really is!”

“Alex,” Cam began, “I hate to rain on your brainstorm —”

“No, no. This’ll be great,” her sister informed her, busily rummaging through their Coventry books in search of, Cam assumed,
The Morphing and Transformation Handbook
. “Okay,” Alex said, having found the weighty volume and riffled through its pages. “Here it is. This’ll be the bomb.”

“Hello! The Transformer doesn’t work on human beings. It’s like a really basic morph,” Cam reminded her sister, remembering that they had used the spell once
before — to change a frog Sersee had turned into a stick of wood back to its native form. “Only trackers can
transmutate
people. We can only renovate ‘less evolved’ things.”

Alex recognized the procedure in the book. Cam was right. “What’s ‘less evolved’ than the loser who’s stalking us?” Alex challenged, undaunted. “Come on, it’ll be a breeze. We already know the incantation. Let’s try it.”

Cam saw the mad glint in her sister’s exceptional gray eyes.

She wasn’t feeling too centered herself. Stress and lack of sleep had taken their toll. She was starting to feel nearly giddy.

“Try it on what?” Cam gave in. Checking out the room for something harmless, she spotted a pencil. “How about this?”

“Too easy,” Alex decreed. “Let’s push the envelope. Try it on something … um, slightly more evolved,” she suggested, grinning.

“And that would be?” Cam tossed the pencil back onto her desk.

“You,” her sister decided.

“Not even!” Cam spun to face her twin.

“I won’t mess you up. I’ll just, like, change your hair color or something easy like that. If it works, game over; the good guys win. If not, what have we got to
lose?” Alex explained. “You’re the one who said it doesn’t work on human beings, remember? Yo, just stand still a second.”

“Not a shot,” Cam declared. “In the lab rat runoffs, I vote for you. You stand still and I’ll cast the spell. How’d you like to trade in your grunge wear for a ruffles-and-chiffon frilly-blond, princess look?”

“About as much as you’d like spiky green streaks,” Alex retorted, wild-eyed and wired. “Let’s do it on each other!”

Bubbling suddenly with punch-drunk laughter, they ran to opposite ends of the room, eyed each other, sent the message
Go!,
and recited the Transformation incantation.

Nothing happened.

For a moment.

Then Alex began to get hot and incredibly itchy. She scratched her arms and then her waist and watched with her mouth open as Cam exploded in ugly red welts.

Catching a glimpse of her hives in the mirror, Cam shrieked at the top of her lungs, “Now are you satisfied?!”

“Okay, we messed up,” Alex admitted, scratching behind her ear. “We’ll try something else.”

They never lost sight of each other at dinner. And the sight was better than they’d thought it would be.

Reversing the Transformer had proved fairly easy. Cam’s hives had subsided, leaving her looking minorly bumpy, flushed but functional. Alex had a few itchy patches remaining.

The only one to comment on the aftermath of the spell was Dylan. “Dudes, ’sup with the rashes?” he asked, midway through the meat loaf.

Cam blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Leaf fight,” she announced.

Bewildered, everyone stared at her, waiting.

“We were horsing around, throwing leaves at each other. Must’ve been poison ivy in the mix,” Alex bailed her out. “Pass the veggies. Please.”

Dylan left the table early. He had an English paper due in the morning. Emily was in an unusually cheerful mood. “Hypothetically,” she said as Cam and Alex cleared their plates, “if, say, Beth or Bree were having a birthday party, where do you think the best place to hold it would be?”

Cam glanced at Alex.
Don’t do it,
Alex warned her.
Don’t tell her you already know.

Like just forget about honesty, right?
Cam shot back.
Anyway, I was just going to say, “Well, if it was my party…”

“What’s wrong with having it at home?” Dave dove in.

Oh, for goodness’ sake, who asked you?
The agitated thought Alex picked up was Emily’s.

“Of course, what do I know?” Dave allowed, drawing back as if he, too, had read his wife’s mind. He didn’t have to. Emily’s eyes flashed at him.

“You’ve probably got homework to do,” he said to the twins. “Why don’t you go on upstairs now. We can do the dishes.”

“On the birthday bash front,” Cam burst out, “I’d opt for a more exotic locale.”

Alex grabbed her arm. “It’s too bad it’s not our party,” she said, dragging her sister out of the kitchen. “Leaf fight?!” she asked as soon as they were in the hall.

“It was the best I could do,” Cam fired back, breaking free of Alex’s grasp. “Which was way better than stupefied silence followed by the witty poison ivy add-on.”

They didn’t have to fake a fight. Cam was steaming when they got to their room.

“By the way, what I say or do about
my
birthday party is none of your business,” she growled. “You don’t care what kind of bender they throw. You’re not even gonna show, right?”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Alex asserted. “Can’t you see how psyched Emily is about this? You want to deflate her totally? Why don’t you just throw a spell on her?
You could do what you did to Sersee. Only instead of blowing her up, you could puncture Emily’s balloon and leave her a shriveled mess.”

“Ooh, I’m so bad,” Cam said sarcastically, but her sister’s reference to the dirty trick she’d played on the Coventry witch had hit its mark.

A minute’s “fun” had cost Cam hours of regret. She’d been talked into behaving vengefully, cruelly. She’d used, or rather, abused her gifts to cause someone else pain.

An’ it harm none,
had been their father Aron’s motto.
That all things may grow to their most bountiful goodness,
was the Coventry creed. In that one act of reckless revenge, she’d trashed both beliefs.

She and Shane had cast the spell on Sersee — who undoubtedly deserved it. And they’d watched with glee as the vain witch swelled to revolting proportions. The worst moment? When Amaryllis had entered with a wheelbarrow to cart out the bloated, humiliated girl.

It was almost fitting, Cam thought now, that Amaryllis, one of Thantos’s sordid servants, had later joined forces with Sersee to try to destroy Cam and Alex.

Amaryllis.
Cam shuddered, remembering how the girl had kept watching her, studying her every move and gesture.

Amaryllis?
Alex had picked up on the name. She
cocked her head and tried to coax out a thought that lurked at the back of her brain. It refused to budge, leaving her with only a vague uneasiness.

“Enough!” she called a halt to Cam’s reminiscences. “Climb off the pity pot, Cam-ille, and grab your sun charm.”

It was time to set the copycat trap. Alex envisioned the steel door and, holding on to her moon charm, sent a message through the peephole to Cam.
Let’s get it on. Time to smoke out the lone clone.

It’s not going to be all that hard to act like I can’t stand you,
Cam sniped silently.

Just do the door,
her twin ordered telepathically.

Cam took a deep breath, shut her eyes, and pictured an iron barrier protecting her thoughts. Dutifully, she drilled the peephole through it.
Can you read me now?
she sent.

Like a trashy novel,
Alex hurled back.
How ’bout you?

Obnoxiously loud and clear! Okay, let’s go audio.

Alex was ready. “You know, you’re a spoiled brat,” she loudly declared for whoever might be listening.

“You mean someone used to the good life,” Cam replied in her most believably snotty voice, “as opposed to trailer trash from Montana? Oops. I didn’t mean ‘trailer’ — no, I forgot, it’s called a ‘modular dwelling,’ isn’t it?”

“Baap!” Alex imitated a buzzer going off. “Big-time
compassion lapse. That’s about thirty points shaved off your Initiation total. Don’t play me, Cam, I’m feeling extremely hair-trigger.”

“What do you care how many points I win or lose, you’re not even going to be initiated! As for hair-trigger?” Cam sneered, “you should’ve pulled the trigger on that ’do —”

“Don’t go there,” Alex warned.

“Speaking of go, why don’t you?” her sister suggested. “Just ’cause you’re flaking doesn’t mean
I’m
not going to be initiated —”

“And make mainland honor role, too?” Alex mocked in her most viciously superior tone.

“Totally. Which means I’ve got tons of studying to do. So buh-bye, little Miss Fledgling Forever. Don’t you have elsewhere to be?”

“Anywhere you’re not!” Alex shot back, clomping loudly to the door. With her hand on the knob, she paused to mouth, “Good luck” to her sister, then left, slamming the door behind her.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE UNDOING

How totally out of it were they? Alex wondered the minute she burst into Dylan’s room and found him sitting at his computer.

They hadn’t figured on his being there! Hadn’t thought twice about it when the bro excused himself to do homework.

Where did they think he’d be?

“Dude, I was just thinking about you!” Grinning broadly, Dylan looked up from his computer. “Saved me a trip. I was gonna ask you to check out my paper.”

“Sure, sure,” she stalled for time. “I’ve just gotta —” She glanced longingly at the bathroom door. “Um, wash
up. You know, my hands are all… meat-loafy.” That was all she could come up with.

Meat-loafy?!
Even if she hadn’t heard what Dylan was thinking, she could see it on his face. He thought she’d bugged.

“Yo,” he said aloud, “you weren’t eating with your hands. Anyway, what’s wrong with the door on your side?”

“Lock blew off,” she blurted. “I mean, the doorknob’s stuck.”

“Whatever.” He couldn’t care less. He had his own agenda. “Come on, Alex. It’ll take a second. Just read this thing, okay?”

“I…” She cocked her head and listened for Cam’s call, for any sign that it was time for her to rush back into their room.

Nothing.

Which figured.

She’d split only ten seconds ago.

The disguised clone thing that was trying to separate them probably needed a minute or two to regroup, to think of clever new nasties to turn them against each other.

“Okay. Just for a minute, though. I’ve got stuff of my own to do. So your paper?” Alex asked, ambling over to Dylan. “What’s it on?”

*        *        *

It took all of ten seconds for Cam to feel the icy wind stream under the doorjamb. Shuddering, she forced herself to walk casually to her bed where the Coventry textbooks they’d used before dinner were collected. Her intention was to scoop them up and get them out of sight before Alex’s clone entered — just in case the imp, who’d tossed the precious books into a trash bag last time, decided to do more damage to them.

She wasn’t quick enough.

Her arms were full of books when the bogus twin burst into the room looking frighteningly Alex-like with a major grump on.

Cam stared hard at the girl, trying to find a crack, some flaw, a detail that was off, something to convince her it wasn’t her twin she was facing.

“Yo, A-plus overachiever girl, what’d I tell you about messing with my books?”

If Cam hadn’t known better, she’d have sworn it was her sister. The clone had Alex’s snide-a-tude down pat.

“Bulletin, Als.” Cam’s voice sounded shaky even to her. “They’re my books, too. Anyway, you’re not going to need them, so what’s your point?”

“My point is I want them.” The creature, her nails the exact puke-green shade as Alex’s, reached for the books.

“For what?” Cam challenged, pulling them out of range.

“I’ve gotta brush up on a couple of spells.” The clone grinned maliciously. “I promised Cade I’d show him some real witchy tricks.”

“No way,” Cam shouted as if the real Alex had proposed something so dumb and dangerous. “You’re not doing magick for Cade or anyone else we know —”

“Oh, I forgot,” the imp said venomously, taking a step forward, her hands clawing for the books. “You and Cade are so cozy now that of course you’d know what would amuse him and what wouldn’t —”

“It has nothing to do with Cade!” Cam insisted, hugging the pile of books and turning her back on the Alex imitator. Speaking of, where was her sister?

“Want to see some real magick?” the intruder asked.

Cam sent a telepathic SOS through the imaginary peephole.
Now, Alex. Shake it. She’s here!

Meanwhile, make-believe Alex’s hands ripped a book from the stack Cam was holding. It was
The Little Book of Spells,
the one their guardian wanted them to memorize.

The grinning imposter opened the book and stared intently at one of its pages. An edge of the brittle paper began to crinkle and then blacken. Cam heard an almost imperceptible sound, a crackling that gave way to a curl
of smoke. The mischievous sprite was burning Ileana’s book!

Panicked, Cam tried to grab it back.
Alex, get in here, now!
she telegraphed.

Checking the imposter to see if she’d intercepted the call, Cam found herself staring into the girl’s Alex-gray eyes.

No one she’d ever met anywhere, not even on Coventry, had those exact same eyes. Their birth mother Miranda’s eyes and their cousin Ileana’s were gray — but not the exact shade and intensity of Cam’s. Or Alex’s.

Lying eyes,
Cam thought. And all at once, she knew what to do.

The Truth spell was one of the first she and Alex had tried together. They’d used it to instill trust in someone too frightened to tell the truth. Whether or not this Alex-looking creature was frightened, she
was
lying; she was hiding something. Cam glanced around the room. There was no time for her to gather the right herbs — burdock, chamomile, or lemon balm, she remembered. There was no time to dig in her jewelry basket for the rose quartz crystal that had once belonged to Karsh. There was no time to wait for Alex.

“Oh, sun that brings us light and cheer, shine through me now to banish fear,”
she began the incantation. “
Free
—” She was supposed to use the person’s
name here, but she didn’t know who stood before her. “
Free this fraud
,” she decided,
“from doubt and blame, win her trust and lift her shame.”

Nothing happened. Counterfeit Alex stood gaping at Cam.

“Okay.” Cam took a breath.
Reveal, schlemiel, conceal …
She had it.
“Let me see through what she would conceal. Show me what she won’t reveal. Put an end to this crazy game, that I may know who she is and why she came!”

This time, the moment Cam stopped, the clone tried to cover her face. But it was too late. Cam saw her eyes, watched their color fade, their shape change.

Alex’s eyes, identical to Cam’s, were large and deep-set. The pretender’s seemed shrunken suddenly, their vivid gray giving way to dull brown.

And the clothes her so-called sister was wearing were changing, too. Within the outline of Alex’s body, a dark velvet robe appeared and disappeared. Like an object floating under a storm-tossed sea, the robe emerged, then sank beneath the jeans and T-shirt the clone had copied.

It was an optical illusion, Cam realized, one that she could only have witnessed with the help of the Truth spell. Amazing! She’d found a way to transform a human being without actually physically changing her. Alex’s
duplicate wasn’t morphing. Thanks to the spell, Cam’s view of her was! She was “seeing through” the impostor’s disguise.

“I can do more than fry a book, sister,” the strangely altered girl threatened. “Watch this!”

But Cam’s powerful eyesight kicked into high gear, paralyzing her for a moment.

Instead of snatching back the precious book, from which a thin stream of smoke was rising, her attention was now riveted on the intruder’s face.

Not
on
her face exactly, more like under it.

Stunned, she began to recognize the girl’s subtly submerged features.…

Instinctively, Cam gripped her sun charm.

Alex gasped.

Dylan leaped up from his chair. “What?!” he asked, shaken.

She didn’t answer. Her entire being was on alert. Listening.

The sound she heard was demanding, angry, distant. At first it droned like an enormous agitated bee from very far away.

Alex grew dizzy. Her head ached; her eyes closed. She began to make out words.

Sow confusion. Reap dissension. Tear them apart. Make each hate you — and thus each other.

The voice was deep, perversely delighted, and familiar.

It belonged to …?

Alex’s hand moved to her moon charm. It had begun to grow warm. She felt the gold amulet stir against her palm, felt it push forward as if drawn by a magnet.

Thantos!

She saw him. In the blackness behind her eyelids, she saw the hulking, bearded tracker talking to a robed young witch. The girl, whose hair was hidden by the hood of her cloak, was staring at him raptly. Alex could not see her face. But she could see her uncle’s — spiteful, gleeful, malicious, determined. He was issuing orders.

He was commanding his underling … an apprentice witch who smelled of jimsonweed and nettle …

All at once, Alex knew who the girl was. Remembered her. Realized that Thantos, a tracker capable of transmutation, of changing human beings, was casting a spell over the creature.

He was ordering his treacherous servant to chip away at the twins, rip them apart, undermine them bit by bit.

Thantos took the urchin’s shoulders and turned her
away from him. For a fleeting moment, Alex saw the girl’s true face. And then it changed. It became hers! And Cam’s. It was their bogus twin.

With great effort, Alex lifted her head and willed her eyes to open. Her skull was pounding. Her body was racked with chills. She knew the symptoms. She had seen Cam go through them often enough. But this time she was the one who’d had the vision. And it hadn’t been a prophecy of the future. It was a picture from the very recent past.

“Yo, what’s up?” Dylan was watching her, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. “Dude, what’s happening to you?”

Alex’s moon charm was red hot now. Suddenly, she heard Cam’s silent cry:
Alex, where are you? I need help!

“Alex,” Dylan called to her, “say something. You’re freaking me.”

She hated to do it, but she had to.

Without herbs, without crystals, with nothing but her skill, her knowledge of the craft, and the amulet her father had forged for her, she recited the Lethe incantation.

A moment before Dylan fell into stupefied forgetfulness, she whispered to him, “Your paper rules, bro. Rest easy.”

*        *        *

“It’s Amaryllis!” Alex called, crashing into the bedroom she shared with her sister.

She’d half expected to find Cam in big trouble — singed by the Coventry witch’s fiery gaze. But her twin was all right. It was the girl who looked exactly like Alex, down to the sheen of her black-dyed hair, who appeared to be in harm’s way.

Wisps of smoke rose from the imposter’s jeans and sweatshirt. Her face was smeared with soot as if she’d just crawled out of a chimney.

Clutching a smoldering book — Ileana’s spell book! — Cam was glaring at the disheveled “Alex.”

“It’s really Amaryllis,” Alex gushed. “I recognized her smell and then I saw her face. Cam, I had a vision!”

“Oh, really?” Cam asked, ticked that her twin had taken so long to pop in. “And who are you?”

“Me?” Alex said defensively. “Yo, I’m your sister, your one and only twin. And she’s Uncle T’s tool, Amaryllis.”

“Prove it!” the smoke-damaged clone hollered from the floor.

Alex gave the girl a dirty look, then showed her sister her moon charm. “Camryn, it’s me,” she said, exasperated.

“Camryn, it’s me!” her clone quickly echoed, scrambling to her feet. Mimicking Alex’s frustrated cry, she pretended to grasp something at her throat.

But she was holding nothing. And Cam and Alex both knew it.

“Where were you?!” Cam demanded. “I’ve been trying to break through that dumbest-idea-of-the-decade ‘door’ of yours for five minutes!” The moment she said it, Cam realized her mistake. She’d forgotten to grasp her sun charm until the last minute.

“Well, I’m here now,” Alex was saying, “and so is Uncle Thantos’s latest messenger — emphasis on ‘mess.’ She was supposed to torch our books and make you think I was doing it. He wanted to turn us against each other again —”

“Give me news, not history,” Cam responded. “She started the fire, but I got it to ricochet, to blaze backward. I can’t believe he’s still pulling the same old tricks. Trying to split us up. He’s tried it how many times now? Three just with Shane —”

“See, you can’t blame me then, can you?” Amaryllis, still in her charred Alex incarnation, argued shrewdly. “I mean, I’m only one of his lackeys, just like Shane.”

“I am so not interested in Shane Wright,” Cam said too quickly.

Just as quickly, Amaryllis’s eyes, still flashing between gray and brown, lit up with new mischief.

“Shane A. Wright? Good thing, too. Since the buff boy is so not interested in
you.
Never was,” Alex’s replica
declared. “It was me — I mean, Alex — all the time. You’re too spoiled and perfect. So the good girl. And talk about clueless! You bought everything Shane said. I guess you never got it, I mean how Alex was always more his type —”

“Just like Cade’s all crushed on Cam, right?” Alex challenged the malicious girl. “I’d say ‘nice try,’ but ‘pathetic last attempt’ is more like it.”

But Amaryllis had hit her target — Cam’s heart. Alex had heard her sister’s gasp, saw her quick tears spring up.

“Don’t go there. She’s lying,” Alex warned Cam, forgetting to send rather than say the message. “She’s just doing what Thantos trained her to do —”

“Sure I am,” Amaryllis insisted. “And I’ll use anything to do it — even the truth! Which reminds me, Camryn — remember Jason, the boy who would be boyfriend, your true-blue high school biscuit who’s at college now? He’s not all that wild about you anymore, either —”

“Shut up,” Alex ordered.

“Or what? You’ll use your famous telekinetic beam to bean me … with, say —” The girl surveyed the room. Her eyes lighted on the massive
Morphing and Transformation Handbook
on Cam’s bed. “— that book. Go on. Use your supposedly awesome glare for something other than gaping at me. Let’s see you make that sucker rise up and strike me!”

“Don’t!” Cam shouted, grabbing Alex’s shirttail as she spun toward the bed. “She’s just trying to get you to do something hateful. Something to mess up our viewing!”

“Aren’t you the clever twin?” Amaryllis mocked. “Grab a crayon and take notes, Alex. You’re kinda slow compared to Cam. She is so the pop princess. And so boringly always right. Oh, by the way, princess, your mom is definitely planning an at-home get-together for your birthday. A totally ho-hum dillyo. Ten people for supper. Supper!” She turned to Alex. “Guess that means you’ll be celebrating your sixteenth with the celebrated Six Pack. Oh, yeah, and Em’s doing the cooking! Isn’t that too cool? You’re in for a treat, one of her inedible barf-inducing specials! Guess the post-dinner festivities will be a spew fest. A fabulous night to remember.”