Fatal Charm (7 page)

It was my last period of the school day and I struggled at a computer to meet an impossible deadline.

“Beany, have you finished yet?” Manny asked for like the ten-thousandth time.

And for the ten-thousandth-and-first time, I told him, “No.”

I didn’t bother to add my usual, “Don’t call me Beany” because it was a waste of stale classroom air. Manny DeVries, editor of the school paper
Sheridan Shout-Out
, always did exactly what he wanted and badgered everyone else until they did what he wanted too. He didn’t fit the image of a dictator in his khaki shorts, sandals, and dreadlocks, but he was one-hundred-percent tyrant.

“We’re already a day late and in a crucial time crunch. I desperately need the column before school ends.” He rubbed the silver arrow in his pierced brow. He leaned over my computer desk, his beaded dreadlocks jangling. The noise added to my annoyance.

I slapped my hand on the desk, sending papers fluttering to the floor. “It won’t be done
ever
if you don’t stop nagging me.” I glared up at him. “This isn’t like a Google search—I need to concentrate and wait for messages to come from you-know-where.”

“Actually, I don’t know where—which is why I need your expertise. Or my readers might realize my Mystic Manny rep is crap,” he said with a cautious glance around the room where other students typed busily at computer desks. Our teacher, who was so mellow he was more like furniture than an authority figure, hunched over stacks of papers at his corner desk. “The
Shout-Out
has to go to press tonight.”

“Stop pushing me.” I waved him away. “Leave!”

“Can you be done in ten minutes?”

I glared at him. “Watch out or I’ll hex you.”

“You don’t have that kind of power.”

“I can learn. Then I’ll curse you with an extreme case of zits.”

“And ruin this work of art?” He gestured to his face. “Say you don’t mean it, Beany.”

“I’ll show you mean. Zits and bad breath. See if you still have a female fan club with that combo.”

“Cruel girl.”

“Go ahead—insult me all you want. Just do it from over there.” I pointed to the other side of the room. In a perverse way, I enjoyed arguing with Manny—not that I’d admit that to him.

“Do I detect a sour mood?” he asked. “Is it your bitchy time of the month?”

Manny was lucky I didn’t have a stapler or paperweight handy. Instead all I found to throw at him was a paper clip. It hit him on his chin and I felt a small satisfaction when he cried, “Hey, that stung! Could you stop acting like a kindergartner and show some maturity?”

“If you let me work in peace. You’re not the only one who wants to finish. Josh and I have plans after school. And I’d much rather be with him than you.”

“I am crushed beyond words. Most girls beg for my company.”

“Go annoy them.”

“Definitely that time of month. I can see you’re in a nasty mood, so I’ll leave you.” He glanced at his watch. “You have fourteen minutes to turn in your column.”

“Tyrant!” I muttered.

I turned back to the computer and looked at what I’d come up with so far.

Mystic Manny Sees All.

The title of my weekly column. Or actually it was Manny’s column, but we had this secret arrangement where I gave him real predictions and he helped me whenever I needed information (he was a whiz hacker type). Despite our insults, he was a true friend. Manny and Thorn were the only two people at school who knew I was psychic; they honored my secret and I’d grown to trust them.

It was ironic that while Manny pretended to impart psychic revelations every week in the
Sheridan Shout-Out
, I was the real source of his predictions. Lucky numbers, romantic advice, campus gossip, the popular “Ten Years in the Future” profile, and whatever else popped into my head.

My accuracy rate was amazing—which added to Manny’s popularity, especially with girls. Not that he needed any help. He didn’t follow any trends or wear name brands or do any of the usual things that equaled popularity. But his whole “I don’t give a shit” attitude won him admirers. I really didn’t understand it.

And I wasn’t getting any predictions either. That was the problem and why I’d been sitting in my chair, swiveling around, tapping my feet, staring into space and feeling like a total failure. Why was I having so much trouble today?

The answer was obvious to me, but I couldn’t tell Manny because he didn’t know about the séance. Although he’d heard about the vandalism at the candy shop. He’d even called Velvet to get an interview for the paper. But she hadn’t revealed more than basic facts, thankfully not mentioning that I was one of the witnesses. Since I was a minor, my name wasn’t revealed in police reports.

Lucky colors. Lucky numbers. Anything lucky at all?

I meditated, mentally opened up to the universe, and hoped for answers.

Oh, all right already
, I heard Opal’s snippy voice.

Then information flooded my brain—and I started typing.

Lucky color—pink. (Ooh! That wasn’t going to be popular with Manny’s male readers!)

No lucky number. Instead, an unlucky number: eight.

A girl with black hair whose named begins with “A” was warned to stay home and not run away to her best friend’s house.

I also wrote the “Ten Years in the Future” profile on a random student. A sophomore named Erika Flanders would go into nursing, fall for a guy who wouldn’t respect her, have twins, and move to Hawaii. I also saw divorce and some spousal abuse, but I had to be cautious about what I revealed. You couldn’t rescue people from their life path … although a subtle warning couldn’t hurt.

One minute before the bell, I ran off the column, then triumphantly handed it to Manny. Shutting off the computer and grabbing my stuff, I hurried to meet Josh as he exited his last class. It was nice to watch his eyes light up when he saw me. He slipped his arm around my shoulder and we left campus together.

On the short drive to his house, I gave Nona a quick call to check on her. I’d told her I wasn’t coming directly home, but as her illness worsened, I was never sure what she’d remember. Fortunately she was having a “good” day. And she wouldn’t be alone long since Penny-Love was coming over to work a few hours.

“Come on into the backyard,” Josh said when we arrived at his home.

“Why?” I stepped out of his car, glancing down to step over a puddle left from the automatic sprinklers. The newly mowed dark green lawn glistened with shimmering water drops.

He crooked his finger at me. “Come this way and find out.”

I smiled at his “stage” tone of mystery. He had such compelling charisma that if he went pro with his magic, he’d be famous. “Did you learn a new magic trick from your mentor?”

“Nothing to do with Arturo. I worked with Evan on this.”

“Evan?” I grimaced as I said the name like I’d swallowed poison. And Evan Marshall was poisonous to me. At school he was Josh’s best friend and my worst enemy. A conceited jock, Evan arrogantly wanted to handpick Josh’s girlfriend and hadn’t approved when Josh started dating me, so he tried to break us up by digging up the scandal of my being kicked out of my last school. Fortunately Josh didn’t believe it. His loyalty was so sweet; I didn’t deserve him.

The wood gate to the backyard creaked as Josh held it open for me. Overgrown oleander bushes brushed against my jeans as I followed Josh down the narrow bricked path to the backyard. It wasn’t a huge yard, but it had ample room for a flower garden, a brick barbeque with built-in sink, and mini-basketball court.

A gruff bark made me jump. I braced myself as a whirlwind of padding feet and barking rushed forward.

“Horse! Down!” Josh ordered before his dog could knock me over.

Horse was a giant of a dog who deserved his name. Fortunately he was well-trained and sat politely at Josh’s command. Still his tongue flopped out and his tail thumped happily against the ground.

While I scratched Horse on his head, Josh grabbed a basketball and I guessed he wanted to show me a new basketball shot. Definitely Super-Jock Evan’s influence, I thought sourly. I understood that Josh would want to hang out with his best friend, especially since I’d been gone the last few weeks, but I didn’t have to like it. Josh needed a better best friend, someone who wasn’t a stuck-up ass. His new pal, Grey, sounded okay. But then a mass murderer with the plague would have been an improvement over Evan.

“Watch this!” Josh announced with the ball poised between his palms.

Snapped out of my thoughts, I looked up, expecting Josh to shoot a tricky basketball shot, like ricocheting the ball off his head or throwing it backwards with his eyes shut. So I didn’t expect him to bounce the ball to his dog.

With a sharp bark, Horse sprang forward and head-butted the ball so that it flew up and sailed down dead center into the basket.

“Wow!” was all I could say.

“Exactly the reaction I was hoping for.” Josh grinned and slipped Horse a doggie treat. “Want to see it again?”

I nodded and stepped back to get a good view. Josh threw the ball again, but this time Horse sprang at the ball too soon and only hit the backboard. The ball bounced off into the garden. While Josh retrieved it, I patted Horse and said, “Good try.”

Josh rewarded Horse with another doggie treat. “He’s gotten much better and sinks the ball three out of four times.”

“Very cool.” I applauded.

“The credit goes to Evan.”

Not what I wanted to hear, but I kept right on smiling.

“He came up with the idea to train Horse. At first I didn’t think a dog could shoot a basketball. But Horse and Evan proved me wrong. Now I’d like to put Horse into my act, you know, like when I go into hospitals. Animals really cheer up sick kids.”

“Horse would look cute with a little hat on his big head,” I suggested.

“He would! Good idea.”

Josh and I sat at a small table and brainstormed more ideas, like teaching Horse to bounce a balloon and standing on his back feet to dance.

We were still talking when Josh’s mother brought out a tray with iced tea, cheese, crackers, and cookies. I really liked Josh’s mother and secretly wished my mother were more like her. Mrs. DeMarco was like those moms you see in reruns of old sitcoms, all hugs and nurturing. Her only fault was fussing too much over Josh. She’d lost one child so it made sense she’d cling more to her remaining son. I noticed Josh’s embarrassment.

I was thinking of the different ways my mother embarrassed me when I heard an odd, shrill sound. A dark flutter of wings swooshed over our heads and disappeared into a nearby tree. We all looked up, but I was the only one who recognized the sharp-beaked tawny falcon.

What was Dagger doing here? He was sort of a pet of Dominic’s, except he was completely wild and free to go wherever he wanted. Usually that was near Dominic.

Did that mean Dominic was close by? Was he waiting to talk to me?

Conflicting emotions made me crazy. I was eager to see Dominic again yet anxious because I didn’t trust myself with him. Could I ignore lustful urges and treat Dominic like a friend? But what if he wanted to kiss me again? Would I be able to resist?

Doubtful.

Why was staying honest and loyal so hard? Was it because of something lacking in my relationship with Josh? Or had Dominic cast a spell on me? Just thinking about him made me itchy under my skin, hot and lightheaded.

All of this passed through my head in micro-seconds, while I pasted a smile on my face and pretended to listen to something Mrs. DeMarco was saying about a pet pigeon Josh owned when he was young. I should have been hanging onto every word about Josh, eager to know what he was like as a child and thinking about our future together and even imagining the children we might have someday. That’s how a typical girlfriend would act—yet seeing Dagger sent my thoughts flying back to Dominic.

Torture. That’s what I felt not being able to rush out of the yard and look for him. He’d been gone for days and I’d tried not to think about him, wonder what he was doing and if he was thinking about me …

And I was dying to ask him the Big Question: Had he found the final charm?

You’re overreacting, I chastised myself. The bird probably isn’t even Dagger.