Spellbound (21 page)

I decided to go with a safer activity: catching up on what ever schoolwork I missed that day to look slightly more like a model student. I was several pages into my history book when Christine came in an hour later.

“Let's order dinner, then talk about what happened today,” she said, her voice brisk as she leaned against the door frame to my room. I gulped, expecting the worst. But after we'd ordered some chicken Caesar salads from the local diner, Christine's tone softened.

“Emma, as I told you earlier, I wish you had come to me,
especially if you were having a fight with a boy at school. How long has he been harassing you?”

“He wasn't really harassing me at first,” I admitted glumly, picking at the hem of my blue top. “I kind of picked the fight. He was spreading some pretty vicious things about Ashley.”

Christine's eyes widened until they seemed twice the size of her bifocals, and she didn't speak for a minute. When she did, her voice was cold. “What did he say?”

I squirmed, embarrassed. “Don't bring it up to Uncle Dan and Aunt Jess, please! She'd be so humiliated!”

“Emma…” Christine's tone warned me to spill it.

“Anthony was really mean to Ash. And then he said that he—well, you know—with her.”

Christine just looked at me confused. “Use your words, Emma,” she chastised.

“Fine. He said he slept with her. And it was a lie. So I confronted him. That's what was caught on tape—me trying to get him to admit the truth.”

“And how did the two boys end up fighting?”

“Well, Anthony started getting pretty, um, aggressive with me—as you saw on the video—so Brendan stepped in.”

Christine drummed her hands deliberately on the table. “Well, Emma, as I said, I was really hoping you would come and talk to me. I know you felt like you had no support system back home. I'd like you to realize that I'm here for you.” Christine's voice wavered just once—but it was enough to let me know that she was hurt that I hadn't come to her.

“I'm really sorry,” I whispered. “I know you had to pull some strings to get me into the school and this looks kind of bad—”

“Oh, please, Emma, I don't care about appearances that much,” Christine scoffed. “Your boyfriend's mother, well, that's quite a different story, dear.”

“I noticed,” I mumbled, dreading all future interactions with frosty Laura Salinger.

“But I am really sorry. And I promise you, I won't keep secrets like that again.” I got up from the table to hug Aunt Christine, but as I did, I was ashamed. Wasn't I already keeping a big secret?

After dinner—and a marathon phone call with Ashley—I climbed into bed with my laptop, alternating between watching
Family Guy
on Hulu and trying to move things around the apartment with my newfound witch powers. The most I succeeded in doing was accidentally knocking the power cord out of my laptop and having to restart it. I was mostly killing time, waiting for Brendan to call. But around nine-thirty, the last three days caught up with me—and I didn't even realize that I had fallen asleep until I opened my eyes and my alarm clock blinked that it was after 4:00 a.m. I shut off my laptop and noticed my phone's status light was blinking.

I grabbed it and saw a text message from Brendan at around 10:00 p.m.

Can u talk?

I furiously typed back that I had fallen asleep and I would see him in the morning, then guiltily added, I hope you're not in a lot of trouble!

I took a deep breath, thinking about Laura Salinger. She was so cold, she probably farted ice cubes. That was a situation that didn't seem like it was going to be an easy one to deal with.
Focus on the supernatural problems first, Emma. Then you can worry about how to win over your boyfriend's mother.
Even though I longed for my biggest problem to be that my boyfriend's mother hated me.

As I curled up back underneath my comforter, a rough plan started to form in my head. I would check the local news station, NY1, every day—and stay away from any areas of high
crime. I'd avoid the park at night. If there was going to be bad weather, I'd fake the flu. Take whatever precautions I could to make sure I stayed safe. Curses, schmurses.

I drifted off to sleep, proud of my plan.

Even though I'd told her everything on the phone the night before, Ashley had a few remaining questions for me on the walk to school. Well, it was really just the one question, asked over and over again.

“So he's really an amazing kisser?” Ash giggled, beaming up at me with bright eyes. And every time she asked me, I would blush and smile. Because every time she asked, I would think about his soft lips, and his strong, warm hands as they held me against him.
Every. Single. Time.
I didn't mind the questions—they kept my mind off my fear about going to school and dealing with being the object of stares and rumors and gossip.
Again.

“Okay, how do I look?” I asked, smoothing my hair when we were about a block from school—where I knew Brendan would be out front waiting for me. It wasn't my newfound witch skills at work though—he'd texted me early in the morning.

“Ridiculously happy,” Ashley said, digging in her backpack for one of the thousand or so lip glosses that lined the bottom of her bag, then attacking me with the tube even though I protested that I never wore makeup to school.

“That's not for you, that's for Brendan,” she smirked. “It's lemon-flavored Fresh lip balm. If you're going to keep making out with him, you need to make sure you don't get chapped lips. Those are just so, so gross.”

“Jeez, Ash, way to be subtle,” I groaned, smacking my lips together.

Soon enough, Brendan came into view. He wasn't leaning against the mailbox this morning, but against the cool stone of Vince A, with his headphones on and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his North Face jacket. His eyes were closed and his head was back, bouncing slightly in time to whatever he was listening to. As if he'd heard us approaching, Brendan turned toward us and opened his eyes—giving me a warm, inviting smile.

Ashley let out a low whistle. “Damn, Emma. You better find out if he's got a cousin my age.”

I burst out laughing as we approached.

“What's so funny?” Brendan asked, taking his expensive-looking headphones off. I could hear a burst of loud singing before he turned off his iPod.

“Just my cousin,” I said, laughing. “Brendan, this is Ashley. Ash, meet Brendan.”

“Um, nice to meet you,” Ashley mumbled, before casting an excited glance my way. “Find out about the cousins!” she squealed before running into the school.

“The cousins?” Brendan asked, furrowing his jet-black eyebrows.

“I'll tell you later.” I smiled.

“So are you going to give me a proper hello or what?” Brendan asked, feigning anger. With that, I got on my tiptoes to clasp my hands around his neck and pulled him down to my height for a kiss. Brendan teasingly nibbled on my lower lip
before pulling away—but kept his hands on my hips, holding me close.

“Is that flavored?” he asked, licking his lips, and I nodded.

“Now that's the kind of hello I'm talking about!” Brendan exclaimed.

“I'm going to leave and come back so we can say hello again,” I said, a little breathlessly, and he laughed before a serious look crossed his face.

“So, are you in a ton of trouble with your aunt?”

“Not really.” I sighed.

“You don't sound happy about that,” he observed.

“I'm not! I just feel so guilty,” I cried. “I wish she'd grounded me, or something.” But Brendan just laughed.

“I'll trade with you,” he offered. “My mom's pissed. The last time she was this mad I was fourteen.”

“What did you do?”

“Oh, we were spending the weekend at our ski house and I got caught breaking into a community pool to skateboard with some friends. The cops took me home.” He shrugged, like he'd just admitted that he forgot to take out the trash or do the dishes.

“You did what?” I squeaked.

“Not a big deal, I got off with a warning,” he said, shrugging. “But this involves public appearances, so of course my mother is acting like I set fire to the gym.”

“I'm so sorry I got you into this,” I moaned, continuing my apology tour.

“Emma, stop. Don't even think about it.” Brendan's voice was adamant as he pulled me closer and kissed me on the tip of my nose. “Look, it's over now. I think deep down, she gets that what I did was right. I'm not really grounded, either. We
made a deal. I just have to—ugh, get this—deejay the stupid winter dance next week.”

“Why? That doesn't sound so bad.”
Dances as punishment? Do you get a car for getting a D in chemistry?

“It is. It's a competition for who spent the most money or had the hottest date. It's lame. My mom knows I hate it, but it makes her look good. It's that whole ‘I'm on the board so it's good for appearances that
you
get involved in the school' thing.”

“Sorry,” I said again, feeling more and more guilty.

“Emma, stop apologizing. Please.” Brendan sighed. “Listen, let's get out of here at lunch, okay? Let's just go straight from English class.”

“Okay,” I agreed, relieved for whatever break I would get from the sure-to-hear rumors at the school.

Brendan opened the door to the school for me and we headed inside, parting ways so I could go to my dungeon basement locker first.

I spun the combination on my lock and opened the door, rummaging through the books I'd need for my morning classes. And that's when I saw it.

The folded-up piece of paper wedged in the slot in the locker. I grabbed it, smiling.
Brendan must have snuck down here before waiting outside for me.

When I opened the note, though, it was clear that it wasn't from Brendan.

It contained one word:
Slut.

I took a deep breath, and tried to steady my shaking hands as I refolded the note. It was written in block letters so there was no way to even try to match the handwriting. Not that I had any doubts as to who had left this in my locker. And even if Kristin hadn't put it there herself, she'd probably told one of her little followers to do it.

Several ideas ran though my head. I'd go up to Kristin and hand her the note, saying, “Someone put this in my locker but it was clearly meant for you.” No, I'd just slip it in her locker. No, I'd hold on to it as evidence.

But then I realized if I did anything, she would just come after me with even more energy and vengeance than she already had. I shook my head.
All this over Anthony, of all people. It's like starting a world war over a parking ticket.

I crumpled up the note and stomped up the stairs to my classroom, first ducking into the ladies' room to throw the note in the garbage.

And that's when I heard the voice in the stall.

“I'd be surprised if Emma even showed her stupid face in this school again,” came the nasal voice. I whirled around and recognized the red-soled Christian Louboutin heels under the stall door. Only one girl ever wore Louboutins to school. Kristin.

I heard a toilet flush and scurried to the last stall in the row, shutting the door as softly as I could. I was afraid they could hear my heart beating, it was pounding so fast. I stepped back as far as I could so they couldn't see my shoes.

“She'll show up,” came another voice over the sound of a stall door opening. Amanda, I think it was. One of Kristin's minions with a lot of money that made up for an unfortunate skin problem. “That girl has no shame.”

“That's for sure,” came Kristin's cackle. “I mean, Anthony hit it right away, and she has the nerve to get all mad at him over her stupid cousin.”

I breathed in sharply. It was one thing to be told what she was saying about me; it was entirely another to hear it firsthand.

“I can't believe she tattled on Anthony for that stupid fight in the quad,” a third voice chimed in. Kendall, I think it was.
“She has some nerve getting him kicked out of school.”
So the story is that
I
went to Principal Casey about the fight.

“I can't believe Brendan fell for her nice girl act,” Kristin sneered. “She's probably given him, like, a thousand STDs already.” The other two girls laughed.

“Such a shame,” purred Kendall, over the sound of a faucet running. “He's so hot. Remember when I hooked up with him at your Hamptons house in the summer?” Even though I knew it made no sense, I felt a stab of pain. I'd heard Brendan was no angel before I'd met him, but still—it hurt to hear it. I thought of Kendall—long strawberry-blond hair, legs that would have gone on forever if her shoes didn't stop them—and winced.

“He's totally dating down.” Amanda cackled. “I mean, Emma isn't even that pretty.”

“She's kind of cute,” Kendall disagreed, then added very quickly, “but nothing special.”

“Kendall, he'll be yours by Christmas break,” Kristin promised.

“He better be,” Kendall squealed. “I'll just need to wash him off first. I'd love to get him in the shower.” The other girls laughed.

“Trust me, she's a nobody and he'll get tired of her soon,” Kristin spat out, and I could hear the hatred bubbling over in her voice. “Unless she gets knocked up. I heard that's why she left her last school—she got pregnant and had no idea who the father was.”

I pressed my forehead against the cool white tiles on the wall and tried to blink back the tears. The laughter faded as they left the bathroom. When I was sure the coast was clear, I slowly exited the stall. I splashed some water on my face, hoping the cool water would extinguish the red-hot embarrassment that colored my face.

I walked to class, forcing myself to hold my head up high
even though I wanted to stare at my shoes, letting my hair fall in my face to shield me from my classmates. I'd dealt with worse in my life. I wouldn't let them get to me. Or at least, see that they were getting to me. I just hoped that my brave act would hold until English class, when I'd finally be with Brendan—my oasis in the nearly friendless desert Vince A had become. Through some miracle, I managed to avoid being called on in my first two classes. If I had to speak aloud, I was sure my voice would crack and crumble.

“Hey, Emma, just so you know, I don't believe any of the rumors,” Jenn said quietly as we walked to English.

“Thanks,” I replied, flashing her a grateful smile. “And thanks for, well, I guess for being seen with me,” I said with a hard laugh.

“Kristin and I used to be close,” she whispered, glancing around to make sure no one heard. “She's changed a lot—she used to be a really fun person. She's just gotten so mean. And she's like, obsessive about Anthony. I think he was her first or something.

“Anyway,” Jenn continued. “Try not to let it get to you. Most people know she's full of it because they've been the subject of one of her rumors at one point or another.”

“Why is she so popular, then, if she's been mean to everyone?” I asked, frustrated.

“She throws these crazy parties and people want to be invited, her family is really powerful, and she's just one of those people,” Jenn explained. “And I think everyone is happy she has a new target—and that it's not them.”

I made a face. “I hate to say it, but it makes sense.”

We got to English and instead of feeling excited or relieved to see Brendan, I just felt exhausted. I slid into my desk and fought the urge to put my head down, opening my notebook and pretending to review my notes instead. For the first time
since I'd started at Vince A, my head didn't automatically turn when he came into the room—and I didn't realize he had entered the classroom until he was sitting in front of me.

“Hey, Emma, are you okay?” Brendan folded his arms on the back of his seat, his green eyes full of worry. “You look…bothered.”

“It's nothing. Long morning,” I mumbled unconvincingly. Brendan just pursed his lips.

“We'll talk at lunch,” he said, then turned around since Mr. Emerson had shuffled into the classroom, loudly blowing his nose. Seriously, this guy needed vitamin C, or a vacation, because it was now plain gross.

 

We were barely out of the school before Brendan asked what was wrong.

“It's just…there's a lot of rumors flying around about me. And you. And Anthony,” I admitted, not wanting to go into specifics. “It's frustrating to hear it. And to have people staring and talking about me.
Again.
”

“You did nothing wrong. What could anyone possibly be saying about you?” Brendan asked. He kept his voice calm but I noticed the hard edge of anger creeping in.

“It's nothing,” I said dismissively. “Forget I said anything.” The last thing I wanted to do was bring up the rumor of us sleeping together. I wasn't sure about Brendan's mental state, but mine sure couldn't handle the topic of us having sex on top of everything.

“Come on,” Brendan wheedled, taking my hand as we walked toward Central Park. “We're
finally
past secrets, remember?”
Damn. He has a point.

“Fine,” I pouted, leaning against the nearest building and taking a deep breath before the words tumbled out. “Apparently, everyone at school thinks that I was sleeping with
Anthony. And, um, now they think I'm sleeping with you, too. And that you're embarrassed to be seen with me. Oh, and I also left my last school because I was pregnant. That last bit is all Kristin, whom I'm positive set us up.”

“Oh.” I could see the muscles in Brendan's jaw tense. “How do you know all of this is going around?”

“I heard them this morning in the girls' bathroom. It was Kristin, Amanda and Kendall, who bragged about hooking up with you, by the way.”

“She's
still
talking about that?” Brendan looked taken aback. I just nodded, biting my lip nervously before pushing myself off the building, continuing our walk to the park.