Kelly McClymer-Salem Witch 01 The Salem Witch Tryouts (17 page)

“I know you guys are stuck here.” I worked very hard to keep my voice calm, with no wobbling. “But
I
can go home. Maddie’s mom will let me stay with her. There’s no reason my life needs to be ruined because Tobias is a gifted-and-Talented warlock who needs some serious controls.” I opened my eyes. No more peanut butter cookie mess. Apparently, Mom had taken advantage of my breathing to zap the kitchen clean.

Mom wanted to just say no. I could see it in her eyes. But, instead, she said, “First, let’s try some heavy-duty tutoring.”

“By you? Because Samuel is great, you know. He’s taught me a lot. But he’s just a kid, like me.”

Mom sighed. “I think your learning witchcraft is similar to your learning to drive.”

“You mean—”

“We hired a driving tutor for you. It’s time for a spells tutor. And maybe a potions tutor, too,” Mom said as she waved away the rest of the cookies and the milk.

I thought of Mr. Bindlebrot. “There’s this teacher—”

“Never mind. I have the perfect tutor in mind. He’s my cousin and he’s helped young witches learn the proper casting and stirring methods for four hundred years.”

Four hundred years? Great. An old guy. I hoped he
didn’t drool when he talked. “When do I start?”

“As soon as I track him down.” Mom opened a kitchen drawer and took out salt and her divining crystal.

After ten minutes, in which she tried various locating spells, Mom bit her lip. “Well, it may take a little while. He’s a bit of a free spirit. But I’ll get him, I promise.”

I was feeling better. I guess Mom could tell, because she finally came across the room and hugged me. For a minute I felt like I was six again. All safe and warm and loved. But then I remembered the awful truth. And I knew what I had to do. “Mom?” I still had my head buried in her shoulder. “Will you promise that if this tutor thing doesn’t work out, you’ll let me go live with Maddie?”

“If you like.” I knew there was a catch to her agreement, I could hear it in her voice. Mom never ran from the truth, although sometimes she did this flirty little dance around it. Usually, that made me want to scream. Other times, it made me glad she was my mom. Like now. I guess I just needed to believe there was a soft place for me to fall if I really was the Loser of Witchville and Mom was too afraid to tell me so.

MADDIE: A car?!

ME: Yep

MADDIE: Didnt think ur dad would ever

ME: Me either

MADDIE: Any boys 2 go drivin with? Better yet parking?

ME: Sorry 1950! Since when does grounded girl know about parking?

Maddie’s texts was so lighthearted that I couldn’t bring myself to discuss my own sticky predicament. Besides, exactly how would I explain that I had to cram a lifetime’s worth of magic into a few months? So I decided just to err
on the side of letting her babble along happily. Not that that didn’t cause me a little pang of homesickness.

Maddie’s parents had been as strict as mine, so her comment about parking really shocked me. But I suppose it was only natural. Now that her dad was off to his new life and her mom was on her own and dating, Maddie had the Grand Parent Canyon to fall into. You know, that place where both parents are under the impression the kid is safe between them, but there’s just empty space because the kid is off having fun.

Or getting into trouble. I didn’t know whether to be worried about Maddie’s freedom by distraction, or wish I could be there to share it.

Still. Maddie had always been sensible, even in the rare moments when her parents weren’t watching. I would just have to hope she didn’t lead on the wrong guy. Guy handling was a tricky business. Even I was having trouble with it, as I discovered that evening at my tutoring session with Samuel.

“I hear you tried to share my curry with all the other cheerleaders.”

Samuel was definitely getting too familiar—both with my mom’s cooking and with me. But since Mom hadn’t yet located this great cousin/tutor she had promised me, I didn’t mention his overstep. But I didn’t smile or encourage him either.

He got the message, I guess, because he pulled out a
wand and my spell book and said, “You said you wanted to learn how to handle more magic at once?”

“Right.” I gave him my best perky can-do smile. “I just want to learn everything I didn’t learn about magic in Beverly Hills this weekend.” I’d had to confess to him that while I could levitate, I had not been able to master casting even a simple spell like the confetti toss at the same time. Humiliating, I know. But I wasn’t going to get better if I didn’t know where I needed to push.

“You’re ambitious, aren’t you?” He seemed to find that funny. He handed me the wand and explained that I should use it to focus my spells as I held myself just a few inches off the ground.

I didn’t listen, of course. I wanted to go fast. So I levitated to the ceiling, pointed my wand, started with “Sparkle, glitter, gleam …,” and promptly fell to the floor in a heap. Oh yeah, I’m a natural.

I practiced until I could levitate, somersault twice, and summon a top hat and a rabbit at the same time (summoning while levitating is just a bit easier than casting a spell, for me at least). I was black-and-blue by the time Samuel was satisfied that I could handle everything smoothly and simultaneously. I was also exhausted, but still determined to master both simultaneous magic and midair spinning.

I held my position near the ceiling and carefully summoned my cell phone to Samuel’s hand. “Here, snap me in action.”

He looked at the phone in confusion. “This is a camera?”

I came down from my levitation carefully and showed him how to snap my picture, then got back into position. “Now! Take two in case one doesn’t come out.”

He did, and then, being Samuel, he started examining the phone, flipping up the various lenses of his glasses every now and then.

“Why do you have a camera on the phone?” He never hesitated to ask me questions. Which was annoying. He never seemed to be suspicious, though, just curious. Which was endearing.

“It was a guilty conscience gift from my folks, to make up for being ripped from my home. With it, I can stay in touch with my friends back in Beverly Hills,” I explained.

“Is it some mortal thing? Taking pictures while you talk on the phone?”

His habit of assuming everything was some mortal secret was not so endearing. “Tedious” comes to mind as a good adjective. Which really brings out the beeyotch in me.

“Yep. The picture captures the soul, and then the mortals can take it home and burn it.”

Apparently the idea wasn’t that absurd, because he didn’t seem to get that I was kidding. “Does that destroy the other person’s soul?” He actually held the phone a little farther away from him while he asked. Dope.

“Nope. Just makes the person whose picture got burned
have to be the slave of the one who burned it.”

“Neat.”

Another annoying trait of Samuel’s is that he likes to use archaic mortal phrases. I suspect he watches lots of mortal TV when he isn’t in school teaching Maria and Denise how to be the ultimate geekoids—or over at my house studying my dad as if he’s a science experiment.

Not that I would ask Samuel about what he liked to do in his spare time. Questions like that seem innocent, but they can cause big problems. You don’t want to make a guy think you’re more interested in him than you are. It can only lead to drama and lots of useless talking.

Of course, it’s not like I know this firsthand. I haven’t had a serious boyfriend yet. My dad won’t let me.

I know. There are ways around protective dads. But not magical moms. I’ve probably mentioned that if I’m alone with a boy for more than sixty seconds, I break out in big weepy hives. Attractive. You could consider me a babe magnet. Or is that maggot?

Which made me realize: I’d been alone with Mr. Bindlebrot for more than sixty seconds. Not much. But no hives. Maybe the spell only worked on mortal boys?

It was worth checking out. Even retro games of spin the bottle are no fun when you’re spell-binded. Quick kisses are fun, but I wouldn’t mind knowing what it felt like to have a boy’s lips on mine for longer than forty-five seconds. Not
that you can’t get a great kiss out of such a short time. I think the boys almost liked that I played hard-to-kiss.

I’d have to figure out a way to investigate the mortal/ witch thing. A few weeks in magic class—remedial or not—had taught me that one word in a spell can make a huge difference to the result.

Only one way to find out. But not, thank you very much, with a guy who believes cell phone cameras can steal souls.

“Why would a mortal want to destroy anyone’s soul?” Sometimes Samuel is so earnest, I can’t bear to laugh.

I sighed. “I was just kidding. The camera just makes communication feel so much closer. I can talk to my friend in L.A. and show her a picture of my room.” Not that I had.

“Oh.” He blushed. “I’m a little geeky about mortal stuff. Sorry.”

Duh! “Don’t worry about it. I have relatives who are much worse, believe me. Thanks for tutoring me. I owe you a good lunch tomorrow.”

“It’s fun to help you. Your dad is neat. And your mom is great. I’ve never met a witch like her.” He didn’t bring up the camera thing again, so neither did I.

Yes. Samuel did have a crush thing going for me—maybe even for my dad the mortal and my mom the unconventional witch. And no, I wasn’t going to break his heart yet. I was already bottom of the heap after my performance at tryouts, and I needed him desperately.

“See you tomorrow?” Samuel looked like a hopeful puppy dog.

“I guess.” I didn’t want to seem too eager. From the angst about breakups and makeups I’d heard in the hallway at Agatha’s, I was sure the boy-girl thing translated well from mortal to witchworld. And in either world, a girl didn’t want to give any boy the idea he was indispensable. That’s when he’d start to make demands.

Samuel inexplicably turned and smiled at the wall near the TV. “You should join us next time, squirt.”

“Who are you talking to?” There wasn’t a ghost there. At least, not one that I could see. The ghosts had better things to do than watch me make a black-and-blue fool out of myself.

Samuel just kept talking to the wall. “I can show you how to disappear so your outline doesn’t shimmer.”

I couldn’t help squealing in outrage when I saw the shimmering outline I’d mistaken for a convoluted sunbeam solidify into my brother. “Mom!”

“Okay, okay.” Dorklock held up his hands in surrender. “I’m leaving. What do you care? It wasn’t like you were kissing him or anything.”

Samuel turned the same orange hue as his favorite spice. But when Dorklock turned to ask him, with the shining young face that adults couldn’t seem to resist, “Do you mean it? About the outline,” he nodded.

“Cool!” Dorklock levitated, spun as gracefully as a dork can, and filled the air above his spinning body with confetti. At the same time. Effortlessly.

“Get out, or …”

He was gone, leaving behind the lingering aroma of twelve-year-old boy and a snowstorm of confetti on the floor.

I’d thought I wrecked things with Daniel when I ran away without saying a word after he invited me to play hooky. But the next morning at my locker, I discovered I’d written him off too early.

I heard the whispers start before I even saw Daniel beside me. “So, Cinderella 666. Why did you do the pumpkin act on me? You could have just said no. Even better, you could have said yes. We’d have had some fun.”

I shrugged. “Sorry.” Everyone was watching us again, and I longed for the days when I was a known quantity, not the new girl-half-breed raised in the mortal world with the haunted locker number 666. I needed to start bringing my reputation in line right away.

“Don’t you ever get tired of being a good girl?” He was looking right into my eyes, and he had this grin that was so bad-boy that at least a dozen actors would have demanded their plastic surgeons duplicate it, if they’d seen it.

“Not enough to risk detention.” I didn’t even like the spa
mud wraps all my friends at home went ga-ga for, so an hour in quicksand seemed like a really bad idea to me. Although it was tempting to try to step into the bad-girl role that Daniel, the quintessential bad boy, had offered me, I had a feeling I wouldn’t ever be too good at it. After all, if I’d been good at being bad, wouldn’t I have ignored my parents when they said not to use magic like my brother? And wouldn’t I know enough magic not to be stuck in a remedial class? Besides, I was going to try to talk myself into a pity place on the team if I hadn’t made the list. Playing hooky could mess that up big-time.

“I’d make sure you didn’t get caught. No one would ever know the 666 Girl had eighty-sixed it out of here for a little while.”

I laughed, and—I must have been light-headed because his face was so close to mine—made a confession I never should have made. “My mom has a spell on me. If I’m near a boy for more than a minute alone, I break out in these really gross, weepy hives.”

He pulled back a little, and for a minute I was afraid I’d broken out as I spoke to him. “She does?”

“My mom’s a bit overprotective.” I felt defensive, and surprised at the way he’d gone from hot to cold—even though that was what I wanted. Well, maybe hot to still warm was what I’d been aiming for.