The Fairytale Curse (Magic's Return Book 1) (2 page)

“I promise you this is the last one for a while,” she said.

Like that was supposed to be comforting. “How long is a while exactly? Six months? A year?”

“I’d tell you,” said Dad, “but then I’d have to kill you.”

I rolled my eyes. Like I hadn’t heard
that
one before.

“That kind of information is classified, Violet,” Mum said. “Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

Yeah, I did know, because she’d been telling me that since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. It was one of her favourite ways of shutting down a discussion.

“Doesn’t your bus come soon?” Dad asked, one eye on the clock.

In Townsville we’d lived close enough to walk to school, but not any more. Everything in Sydney was bigger, further away, and more crowded. Welcome to the big city.

“Yeah.” Guess that was the end of
that
conversation. It made me crazy how they’d never give you a straight answer if it involved their stupid work. I stomped into the kitchen to pack my bag.

“We might be late home tonight,” Mum said, changing the subject with her usual skill. “There’s lasagne in the freezer if you get hungry.”

“Don’t worry about us.” CJ crammed in the last of her breakfast and grabbed her school bag. “We’ll be fine. Come on, Vile. You don’t want to be late in your second week, do you? Might make a bad impression.”

“I’m only ever late if I wait for
you
, Cryssie.”

“Bye, Violet. Have a good day.” Mum was the only person who called me Violet. She called CJ Crystal too—she said she couldn’t see the sense in giving someone a perfectly good name and then never using it.

I shoved my lunch in my bag without replying. The chances of having a good day were pretty damn low, all things considered, though I doubt she really cared.

I looked back as we reached the door. Mum had turned the TV back on to the news channel. Well, that was a first. Was the girl in the glass coffin really that interesting? It was probably just some stupid advertising stunt.

Ashleigh Redmond was waiting at the bus stop, and she hugged CJ as if it had been three years since she’d last seen her, instead of only yesterday. I only got a grunt, but that didn’t bother me. I’d seen enough of the Ashleighs of the world to know the type. Appearances were everything to girls like that, and since CJ was the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen, they were clearly destined to become Best Friends Forever.

Ashleigh’s friends, all as bubble-headed as herself, clustered around CJ like bees to nectar, and she was soon knee-deep in a conversation that seemed to be mostly about the best colour bikini to show off your tan. CJ, of course, had an opinion on that—CJ had an opinion on everything—but I stood off to one side and tried not to yawn. Bikinis and my skin type just didn’t mix. Nobody needed third-degree burns on their stomach.

Eventually CJ noticed I was doing my loner thing again and tried to get me to join in. “Hey, Vi—the girls are going bikini shopping on Saturday. Want to come?”

Ashleigh shot me a look that said clearer than words
over my dead body and why does someone like CJ even have a sister like you?

“Sure.” Even to impress CJ Ashleigh couldn’t fake any enthusiasm. I’d heard more emotion from robots. “That would be great.”

I thought about winding her up but it just wasn’t worth the aggravation. “Maybe some other time.”

“Suit yourself.” Ashleigh didn’t bother hiding her relief.

The bus arrived and we piled on. Naturally Ashleigh’s crowd sat down the back with the cool kids. She took the seat next to CJ, and shot me a look of triumph. She was like a dog peeing on my sister to mark her territory. I shrugged and sat in front of them. Did she think just because we were twins we always had to be together?

I passed the time staring out the window, letting their mindless chatter swirl around me. All of them were in a frenzy about the Year 12 formal next week. The after party was everyone’s favourite topic, closely followed by dresses, hair, and makeup, plus which boys were going with which girls.

“You’re lucky you came when you did,” Ashleigh said to CJ, “otherwise you might have missed the whole thing!”

Yep. What a shame
that
would have been—no chance to celebrate the end of school for a bunch of people in the year above me that I’d never met. Colour me devastated. But a helpful office lady had pointed out to Mum that the day we enrolled was the last chance to pay for the formal, so we were all paid up and ready to rock.

“Did you manage to find a dress yet? You poor thing, only having two weeks to shop! I had fittings for months. Wait until you see it. It’s so beautiful!”

“I’m sure I’ll find something. Maybe we can look this weekend.”

“Oh, yes! I know the perfect shop, it sells these gorgeous labels …”

That was about when I zoned out and stared out the window. That was another difference between me and my so-not-identical twin. She loved shopping; I hated it.

The houses rolled past, all jammed up tight against their neighbours on their tiny little blocks. There weren’t many big trees, though everyone had neat gardens and cute little brick walls. That was the trouble with new developments—no trees. No history. Everything looked like it had just been plonked down yesterday, and could just as easily disappear tomorrow. A bit like me, really.

“Did you ask your parents?” Ashleigh’s voice was a whiny little buzz-saw, slicing into my thoughts again.

“Oh, they won’t mind,” CJ said airily. “We go to lots of parties.”

Maybe in Townsville, where we knew everyone. She hadn’t mentioned any party to Mum and Dad that I’d heard of. What were they talking about?

“Fantastic!” Ashleigh gushed. “He put it on Facebook. Everyone’s going. You should see his place—it’s a mansion! He’s got a pool and a jacuzzi and like
ten
bedrooms! It’s going to be awesome.”

I swung round and gave my sister a hard look. “Whose party’s this?”

“Some guy called Josh.”

Ashleigh laughed. “Some guy? Only the hottest guy in the school. Josh Johnson.” She got this gooey look on her face when she said his name, like it tasted good. “He’s the school captain, in case you haven’t noticed.”

I hadn’t, but then I wasn’t in the habit of paying much attention in school assemblies. I don’t know when else I could have discovered who the school captains were. It’s not as if they walked around with flashing signs above their heads.

At the next stop a dark-haired girl got on. She was in Year 11, like us, but I didn’t know her name. The bus was pretty full that morning, but the seat next to me was empty, so she tramped down the aisle and stood swaying next to me, a friendly smile on her face.

“Mind if I sit here?”

I shrugged. Why did people ask questions like that? She was obviously going to sit down whatever I said.

“I’m Sona. You’re new, aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

Her skin was a deep warm brown. Next to hers, my arm was so pale it practically glowed.

“What’s your name?”

She was certainly persistent. Either that or my
leave me alone
vibes needed work. “Vi.”

“Vi? Is that short for something?”

“Yeah, but we don’t need to go there.”

“It can’t be that bad. Did you know there’s a girl in our year called Dream? Her parents must have hated her.”

She was grinning at me, ready to share the joke. I sighed. Here we go again, making friends at a new school. Did I really want to go through this again? What was the point, when we’d probably be moving on in a year or less, whatever Mum promised? But she had such a friendly face, it seemed rude to just ignore her. “Parents are weird sometimes.”

“I know, right? Mine named me after some Indian actress.”

“Are you Indian?”

She laughed. “Me personally? No. True-blue Aussie. Mum and Dad are. They came out about twenty years ago and I was born here. My grandparents back in Delhi think it’s a scandal that I can’t speak a word of Hindi. Every time they visit they jabber away at me and then get shocked all over again when I don’t answer. Poor Dad gets into so much trouble.”

She had the biggest brown eyes I’d ever seen, and now they glinted with mischief. I kind of liked her, but who knew if we’d even be sitting the HSC at this school? And that was only a year away. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d gotten attached to people, only to have them ripped away by Mum and Dad’s stupid jobs.

I looked out the window, hoping she’d get the hint, but apparently she didn’t do hints.

“Is that your sister?” She jerked her head at CJ.

“Yep.”

“She in Year 12?”

“No, Year 11, same as me. We’re twins.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Right. And she’s the ugly twin?”

Now that sounded like my kind of person. A smile twitched at my lips. “Obviously.”

She grinned. “Sucks to be you, huh?”

I liked the way she thought. “Got it in one.”

“Eh, could be worse. My brother’s at Sydney Uni, studying to be a doctor. My parents think the sun shines out of his butt.
And
he speaks Hindi. All I hear is
why can’t you be more like your brother, Sona?
”

“Bummer.”

“Yeah. Hey, Zac!” Suddenly distracted, she poked a boy sitting on the other side of the aisle. “You coming to robotics club today?”

He turned around, an angry frown on his face, but when he saw who’d poked him he smiled and pulled his earphones out.

“What’d you say?”

He was tall and tanned, and had brown hair that flopped in his eyes. Might be time for a haircut. If he hadn’t smiled I wouldn’t have looked twice, but his smile lit up his whole face, and the cutest dimple peeped out. I took a deep breath; I was a sucker for dimples.

“Are-you-coming-to-robotics-club?” Sona repeated, as if speaking to a very small and rather stupid child.

“You don’t have to sound like a robot just because you’re talking about robotics, you know,” he said.

She pulled a face at him. “So helpful, Zac.”

He threw her a mock salute. “Always happy to be of service.”

His eyes slid sideways, checking me out. They were a warm, delicious brown that made me think of dark chocolate. Mmmm. Chocolate.

“So are you?”

“Sure. You?”

“As long as I get my maths homework finished at recess.” She turned to me. “What about you? Are you interested in robotics?”

I shrugged. “Some.”

They’d die if they saw Dad’s workshop—so many tools, so many gadgets. Some of them I’d made myself. It
would
be kind of fun. Dimple-boy smiled at me, and my heart skipped a beat
. No, don’t be stupid, Vi. What’s the point of getting all excited about new people, even if they do share your interests? You’ll only have to leave again.
But robotics … I’d never been in a robotics club before.

“When is it?” I wasn’t committing to anything. Just asking.

“Lunch time.” Sona grabbed my arm in excitement and squeezed. “Oh, my God! Another girl in the robotics club. Someone sensible to talk to! This is going to be so great!”

Well,
she
seemed to think I was committed. We’d see. Gently I extracted my arm as she continued to talk, flitting from subject to subject with what I was beginning to realise was her natural enthusiasm.

“Did you hear about that girl in the mountains?” she asked.

“What girl?” Guess there was no breakfast TV allowed at Zac’s house.

“The one that was found in the glass coffin. It’s like she’s a fairytale princess, just waiting for her prince to come and wake her up. So romantic.” She frowned. “Not that we approve of princesses lying around snoozing and waiting to be rescued, of course.”

“Of course,” Zac agreed.

Oh, my God, that dimple was
killing
me. How could a smile make such a difference to a person’s face?

“What happened when she woke up?” Zac asked.

“That’s just it. She hasn’t. They say she’s in some kind of a coma.”

“So why was she lying in a coffin?”

“Nobody knows.”

He folded his arms, and I couldn’t help noticing the muscles move beneath his tanned skin. Sometimes it seemed as though everyone in Australia had a tan except me. And Dad, of course.

“Who puts someone in a coffin when they’re in a coma? That’s just sick.”

You tell ’em, Zac. The world was full of weirdos.

“I know, but isn’t it strange, that it’s just like a fairy tale? Imagine if magic was real, and fairy tales did come true.”

“I don’t know if that would be so great,” he said. “Don’t most people in fairy tales get cooked in a witch’s oven, or eaten by a giant, or something? It’s not all princes and glass slippers, you know.”

She screwed up her face at him. “God, Zac. My
cat
has more imagination than you.”

He shrugged and slipped his earphones back in as the bus pulled up outside school. There was a thunder of feet as we piled off, and Sona waved as she walked away.

“Don’t forget robotics! Lunch time in Room D27.”

Maybe, maybe not. I waved back and headed for the library. Once I was out of CJ’s sight I pulled her black headband out of my pocket and put it on.

I hadn’t lost my locker in days, and I was feeling quite proud of myself. Though small by Sydney standards, this was the biggest school I’d ever been to, and I’d been to a few. There were four massive main buildings spread out among the gum trees. Each one was built in a rectangle around a central courtyard. They were all two storeys, with a balcony-style walkway running around the inside of the top storey, so each classroom opened into the fresh air. On rainy days everyone hugged the wall trying to keep dry as rain slanted in over the railings. At least on the bottom level the overhanging walkway kept you relatively dry.

Then there was the canteen building, which also housed the change rooms and an indoor basketball court, plus half a dozen portable classrooms scattered around the grounds to accommodate the school’s growth. The final building was a school hall that was only just big enough to fit all the students inside.

Lining the lower levels of all the buildings except for A block and the canteen were lockers painted in rainbow-bright colours which would have suited a preschool better than a high school, but whatever. Mine was in E block, a violent red. I was ramming my maths textbook into it at the start of lunchtime when someone opened the bright yellow one two lockers away.