Moon White: Color Me Enchanted with Bonus Content (14 page)

“Where is she?” she echoes.

“Yes. You said she’s very, very happy and she’s where she needs to be, but
where is that?
”

“The other side, of course.”

Of course.

Sienna looks at her watch. “I have to play for a lesson in about twenty minutes and I need to do a couple of things first.”

“Yes,” I say, standing. “Sorry. I should go.”

She pats my shoulder and hands me a tissue. “You don’t need to be sorry, Heather.”

“Okay.” I use the tissue to wipe my wet cheeks.

“And I’m glad you came by today. But you really should go back to school now. I’m sure your mother would agree.”

I attempt a smile. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“And anytime you need to talk, please, feel free to pop in. I play for lessons from two in the afternoon and as late as nine on Mondays and Wednesdays. The rest of the days I’m usually done by seven and, as you know, Saturdays are only until five and Naomi doesn’t have classes on Sundays.”

“Yes,” I reply. “I’m sure I’ll come to visit sometimes. Thanks again.”

“By the way, you’re going to doubt this later,” she says as she walks me to the door. “That I really contacted your mother today.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Everyone does. So I’ll tell you something else. It didn’t seem terribly significant, not in light of her concern and the warning about getting hurt. Consequently, I’m not sure that I got it exactly right. But maybe I should tell you anyway.”

“What is it?” I say eagerly, grateful for any small morsel of information.

“She said that
her book’s not lost
— or something to that effect.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t know how to explain, but that’s pretty much what I heard.”

“Her book’s not lost?”

“That’s right.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Well, it might be metaphorical.”

I consider this. “Maybe.” Then I thank her again and leave, going as quietly down the stairs as I came up. But just as I reach the second floor, I run straight into Naomi.

“Heather? What were you doing up there?” she asks with obvious curiosity.

“I . . . uh . . . I was at Sienna’s.” I cannot believe I just blurted out the truth. But what else could I say?

Naomi frowns. “Why?”

“We were just visiting.”

“What about school?”

I shrug and look away.

Naomi puts a firm hand on my shoulder. “Heather, be careful of Sienna. I really don’t know much about her — or her beliefs.”

I blink in surprise. “What?”

She locks eyes with me. “Just be careful. Understand?”

I nod, then tell her I have to go. Feeling confused, I get in my car and drive back to school. Why is Naomi suddenly interfering with me — first my diet and now my friends? What business is it of hers anyway? And, for someone who tries to keep her opinions to herself, I’m surprised she’d say something like that about her own employee. Pretty judgmental if you ask me. I decide to dismiss her warning altogether. She just doesn’t get it.

Once I’m at school, still remembering my mom and wondering if she’s watching me right now, I go straight to the office and explain to Mrs. Aster, the office lady, that I had “a problem” and had to leave at lunchtime, suggesting it was of a feminine nature and had to be dealt with.

“I understand,” she says as she writes out an excuse. “Sometimes it’s hard being a girl.” Then she winks at me.

Okay, I’m sure if I did this sort of thing on a regular basis, I wouldn’t get this kind of sympathy. But my attendance record has always been pretty good. And my grades are well above average, so I guess they figure they can cut me some slack. Fine with me.

I still feel bummed about what Liz did to me, and I try to keep a low profile until the end of the day, when I get out of there as soon as the last bell rings. I don’t look right or left and don’t even go to my locker. I just go straight to the parking lot and into my car. I am not the least bit eager to see Liz or Hudson anytime soon. I’m sure they feel the same way about me.

S
OMEHOW
I
MAKE IT THROUGH
T
UESDAY WITHOUT RUNNING INTO
L
IZ OR
Hudson. But I am stopped by Porter.

“So what do you think of the news?” he asks me.

“Huh?” I decide to play dumb.

“You know,” he says in a slightly irritated tone. “Liz and Hudson hooking up. Whad’ya think of it?”

I just shrug. “Whatever.”

He scowls. “Really, you’re okay with it then?”

I study him for a moment, realizing that, like me, he’s probably been hurt. And then I remember the Rule of Three and I think, hey, maybe it’s worth a try to be nice to someone. Although to be honest, I don’t think the Rule of Three’s been working too well for me lately. “I guess there’s not much anyone can do about it,” I tell him. “Are you feeling pretty bummed?”

He sort of rolls his eyes. “I’m not really talking to Hudson yet.”

“So you were really into Liz then?”

He gives me this
duh
look. And I wonder why I even asked. Of course he was into Liz. She’s pretty and fun and even a good bowler. Why wouldn’t he be into her?

“Okay, I guess that’s a yes.”

“So are you and Liz still talking?”

I shake my head. “It’s just kinda awkward,” I admit.

“Yeah, that’s how I feel.” Then he brightens a little. “Hey, maybe you and I should get together.”

“Thanks,” I tell him. “But I’m not really ready for anything right now.” Okay, I’m mostly not ready for anything with him. Besides that, I’m not even over Hudson yet. I caught a glimpse of him on my way to Creative Writing today, and it was all I could do not to start crying again.

Porter kind of laughs. “I thought maybe if we got together it might make them jealous.”

“Yeah, right.” I let out a loud sigh.

“Well, believe it or not, I thought Hudson was really into you, Heather. He talked about you a lot. The weird thing is that he’s a pretty conservative guy, you know, but he thought it was cool that you’re so different.”

“Different?”

“You know, into witchcraft and ballet and your artsy family and stuff. He was pretty cool with that.”

“Apparently he wasn’t totally cool with it.” I frown. “Or maybe it was just me.”

“I think maybe he got overwhelmed,” says Porter.

I stand up straighter now. “Well, maybe it’s for the best,” I say. “But it would’ve been nice if he and Liz had handled things differently. They didn’t have to go behind our backs like that.”

He nods. “Yep. That’s what I think too.”

“I gotta get to geometry,” I tell him.

“See ya.”

As I walk away, I wonder about what he just said. Is it possible that I really did overwhelm Hudson? Was he really as into me as Porter was saying? Oh, it’s not like I want to get up false hopes, but
suddenly it occurs to me that this thing with Liz could blow over if he finds out there’s not that much to the girl. Or not. But I suppose it does give me just a smidgen of hope to know that Hudson really was into me. Maybe this isn’t over yet.

After school, I go straight home again. Day number two without talking to Liz or Hudson. Of course, there’s still ballet to come. I’ll have to face her there. As I drive home I try not to think about the feelings that ran through my mind earlier today. I saw Liz eating lunch with my old friends, including Lucy, and I wanted to scream. I mean, it’s like she’s replaced me or something. It was weird. And for a moment, I felt as if I really hated her. I felt like she was ruining my life. I told myself that was stupid. But then, later on, when I saw her with Hudson, laughing and holding hands, well, I wanted to throw up.

And now as I park in my driveway, I think this girl must really be set upon ruining my life. First of all she tries to take my spot in ballet. Next thing I find out that it’s her dad who wants to ruin Yaquina Lake, the lake Mom and I enjoyed so many times. Not to mention that it’s my dad who’s turned into a workaholic trying to oppose this senseless development. Then Liz pretends to befriend me but goes behind my back and steals my boyfriend. And finally, it seems that she’s taking over my friends. Seriously, what more could anyone do? The next thing I know she’ll probably sneak into my house and kill me in my sleep. It’s just too weird.

I think about what Sienna said yesterday, about how my mom was worried that someone was going to hurt me. Well, if you ask me, Liz has done a pretty knock-up job of it so far. Still, Sienna seemed fairly certain that it wasn’t about Liz. But how can that be? I’ve never had a real enemy before, not that I can recall anyway, but I’m beginning to feel like I have a serious one now. Oh, sure, Liz
may act all sweet and kind on the exterior, but I have a feeling that beneath that pretty blonde veneer of sugar and niceness, there’s a heart of stone — an ice-cold heart of stone.

I know enough about witchcraft to know that it’s wrong to try to invoke harm on anyone. I’ve read that again and again. And yet I’ve also read some websites where they dispute this, saying that the first rule is to harm none, but that you are allowed to use magic against your enemies. And I think that maybe it’s time to get serious. I dump my bag and head straight for the attic, getting a book where I’ve seen the recipe for what’s called a “witch’s bottle,” a tool that’s supposed to protect you from your enemies. I search in the book until I find it, and it actually seems rather simple — even if it is a little bit gross. But desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

So I go down to the kitchen and hunt down a small jar and lid. Then I go out to the garage to look for sharp and dangerous things to fill it with. You need things like nails, tacks, razor blades, needles, pins — anything that could hurt someone. It takes a while, but finally I have it about half-full of some nasty-looking things. Okay, now for the gross part. To make this work, you have to urinate into the jar. Enough said.

After this is done, you’re supposed to tape it up and bury it at least a foot underground in a meaningful and significant place. And I know just the place. I drive over to Liz’s house, up on the bluff. But I park down below, at the end of the beach access road, and I go out to the beach, then walk down a ways until I find a secluded spot where the bluff meets the sand. It’s straight down from Liz’s house. Perfect. I forgot to bring a shovel, but I use a stick and my hands, and before long I dig a hole that’s almost two feet deep. Then I stand up and repeat some lines that I’ve written down, words that are meant specifically for Liz, my enemy. And I bury the jar and
brush off my hands and leave.

Of course, all this makes me a few minutes late for ballet. And naturally, this means that I’m just a little bit off in everything. And, once again, Liz dances beautifully and I feel as if I’m trying to keep up. It’s particularly aggravating when she goes out of her way to smile at me, which feels fairly patronizing and makes me want to hit her. Also, I can feel Sienna watching me as she plays the piano, and I’m guessing she feels bad for me too. In some ways, I suppose I should appreciate the sympathy, since I think hers is sincere. But just the same, I avoid making eye contact with her. Besides, I have this sneaking suspicion that she might not approve of my witch’s bottle. I’m not sure that I’ll even tell her about it. Maybe it will be my little secret. There could be more power in that.

As soon as class is over, I grab up my stuff and dart out of there. I don’t want to talk to anyone today. Mostly I don’t want to talk to Liz. I go straight home and I’m heading into the house when I see Augustine’s friend Jonathon Morrow coming out. He looks like he’s in a hurry, but he waves at me as he hops into a small blue and very cool BMW convertible.

“You’re home early,” says Augustine as I come into the kitchen. She’s putting what looks like two wine glasses into the dishwasher.

“I didn’t know Jonathon was still in town,” I say.

“Oh yeah,” she says in an even voice. Her back’s still to me. “He really likes Westport. He’s actually thinking about staying.”

“Cool,” I say, although I’m wondering if it’s really that cool. I mean, what does this mean? Jonathon hanging around my dad’s wife, the two of them drinking wine in the middle of the day when no one’s home. If you ask me, it’s a little fishy.

“Hey, I talked to your dad,” says Augustine. She turns around and smiles. “And at first he wasn’t too excited about it.”

“What?” I say, unsure of what she’s referring to.

“You know,” she says, “about the Wicca seminar that you asked me about.”

“Oh yeah,” I say. “I almost forgot.”

“Well, he had a lot of questions, but I think I got them smoothed over. I told him it’s all part of your spiritual exploration and that we need to allow you to grow into your spiritual self with as much support as possible. He seemed to get it.”

“So he’s okay?”

She nods.

“Thanks,” I tell her.

“And,” she says dramatically, “we’re going to pay for it too.”

“No way,” I say.

“Yep. I told him that I was going to pay for half of it, and he didn’t want to be outdone. He’ll pay for the other half.”

“Cool,” I say, although I’m actually having second thoughts right now. What if I don’t want to go? But I keep this to myself.