The Popularity Spell (7 page)

Before I know it, Sam decides that five minutes is up, and I'm sorry I don't get to dream more about popularity. We spend the next hour laughing and drinking Coke and talking about other things, like our science projects. Sam has decided to go with her idea about saving the environment. She says the glaciers are melting and if we don't stop them, polar bears and penguins won't have any place to live. That sounds so serious. It makes me glad I chose millipedes!

We also talk about Terri and how much I don't like my dad liking her. Sam understands because her mom and dad got divorced a long time ago. She spends most of the year with her mom but sometimes visits her dad for weekends or the summer in Mexico.

“What's that like?” I ask.

“Oh, it can be great,” she tells me. “Like, I get two sets of presents for my birthday and Christmas. Or if one of them won't get me something, the other one might. But it can be hard too. I miss my dad when I'm here, and then I miss my mom when I'm with him.”

I sort of understand what she means. I don't really
miss
my mom since I never knew her, but sometimes it's a little lonely with only Dad and Toby. But that doesn't mean I want someone like Terri coming in and changing things. It would be so much better if Dad liked Paige instead. I might learn how to brush my hair without hurting it, or to paint my nails cool colors and not bite them, or even to shop in Beverly Hills and try to look decent in designer clothes.

“Has your mom ever had a boyfriend like my dad has a girlfriend?” I ask.

“Oh yeah, she's had a lot,” Sam says.

“Did she ever have a boyfriend you didn't like?”

“Oh, for sure! Some have been okay, but others have been icky. Or dumb. Or losers. Or too tall.”

“What do you do when it's one of those?” I ask.

“I'm sour and rude to them, and after a while they go away.”

“What if they don't?”

“Well, she doesn't have a boyfriend now, so it must work!” Samantha laughs, and I laugh along with her. Sour and rude; I can do that. I'll just think of Kylie Mae and her lemon-sucking face.

Sam and I are having such a good time that I don't even realize Dad has come to pick me up until I hear Samantha's mom's voice close by, saying “They're down here in Samantha's room. They've barely come up for air the whole time. They've probably been working on their science projects; they've been very intent on something….”

Oh no! The voodoo doll is lying right on the carpet, where anybody could see. With the speed of a cheetah, I dive onto the ground and shove the doll under Sam's bed—at the exact moment Sam's mom opens the door with Dad by her side.

Dad looks around. “I think these two girls have been up to no good,” he says.

Sitting on the floor next to each other, Samantha and I look up. How could Dad know?

“Why do you say that?” Samantha's mom asks.

“Coke cans!” Dad says, kidding around. “I normally don't let Cleo have soda.”

“Yes, she was a very good girl and told me that, but I figured they could have a treat since it's a special night. Actually, I could pop one open for you while Cleo packs up her things and says goodbye.”

“No thanks,” says Dad, “but I wouldn't mind a glass of water. Get your things, Cleo. We'll head out in a minute.” He and Sam's mom walk off down the hallway.

I carefully put the doll in my backpack as Samantha and I look at each other with relief.

We did it. Now we just have to wait.

I
t's hard to keep my mind on anything besides the hex, especially when I look at the voodoo doll's button eyes staring at me from my dresser. But Dad finds a way to distract me on Sunday.

“Terri's coming over tonight,” he says, poking his head into my room, where I'm drawing a super-long millipede character to add to my animation empire. It's a lot of work because I'm trying to put different kinds of shoes on all his feet. I'm busy. I don't need interruptions.

“Look respectable,” Dad says. “No bank robbery masks. And clean your room.”

“Clean my room?”

“Yes. It'll do you good.” Then he turns around and walks away.

“She's not coming in my room, is she?” I ask, following him down the hall.

Dad stops and sighs. “She may not come in your room, but this is her first visit to the house, and I might like to show her around.” I can tell he's getting impatient because he's pulling pieces of his hair up and away from his head. I follow him toward his dining room office and I'm shocked by what I see.

Our living room and dining room are totally clean. Dad's computers aren't dusty and boxes of junk are pushed along the wall instead of in the middle of the room. His desk isn't covered with papers. There's no Toby fur on the floor.

He must really like Terri.

“Please, Cleo?” Dad asks. He looks so helpless and hopeful, I give in and force myself to go to my room. I move piles of things into corners, into my closet, and under my bed. I don't make the bed, but I flatten out the comforter. That's plenty.

Far down the hall, I hear our doorbell ring. It's her. Toby runs and barks like a wild wolf. I hope he jumps on her with his dirty paws, but I guess he doesn't because I hear her saying, “Hello, boy, you must be Toby! I've heard a lot about you! You're a pretty boy, aren't you?”

I'm sure Toby knows better than to believe her. Dad tells him to settle down; then he says hi to Terri and I hear a kissing noise. Gross.

“Cleo! Terri's here!” Dad shouts, like I'm supposed to be happy about it.

“I'm busy!” I yell back.

“Come out here!” Dad shouts again. “She brought something for us!”

I don't really care what Terri brought, but since it could be cookies or money or a monkey T-shirt, I go. I walk down the hallway slowly to make them wait, but they're not waiting at all. They're in the kitchen, where Dad is putting a bottle of wine on the counter while Terri takes a sip from her glass.

I think of something rude to say, like Sam suggested. “That looks like you're drinking pee.”

“Cleo!” Dad says in a scolding voice, but I go on.

“Don't get too close to the stove, Terri,” I say, though it's not even on. “We wouldn't want you to burn your hand like my uncle Arnie did.”

She gives Dad a confused look, and he explains. “Uncle Arnie said years ago that his hand had gotten burned because of a voodoo curse.” Dad turns to me. “But we know that's not true now, right, Cleo?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say quickly, sorry I brought it up. With our latest hex out there waiting to make us popular, I do
not
want to be talking voodoo with them.

“This crazy brother of mine who lives in New Orleans, he's into spirits and voodoo and all that stuff. He even sent Cleo a voodoo doll for her birthday! Of course she knows it's not real. Right, Cleo?”

I nod. I've got to change the subject! So I turn to Terri and ask, “So, what did you bring me?”

Dad says, “Rude.” And I wasn't even trying that time!

Terri doesn't seem to care, though. “I actually brought it for all of us,” she says, walking toward our kitchen table. “It's a game we could play.”

I usually like the games we play in Focus!, but I just sit back and wait for her to impress me. She shows me the box. It's a game called Pig Mania.

In my mind I see Madison making a pig face with her pinkie finger and her friends oinking and snorting.

“I don't like pigs,” I say. “Pigs are dirty and smelly and from Ohio, and that's not cool.”

“Cleo,” Dad says. “Remember what you and I talked about?”

Dad and I talk about a lot of things all the time, but I guess he means I'm supposed to be nice to her. Ugh.

“Actually, pigs are very clean animals,” Terri says, “and these ones are little and plastic and pretty cute.” She pulls out a cup that says “Pig Sty” on it, and rolls out two tiny pigs.

They
are
pretty cute, but I'm going to keep that to myself.

Terri explains that the object of the game is to roll the pigs to score the most points. I don't understand and I say so, but Dad tells me to keep listening. She shows us how the little pigs can land in different positions, and the weirder the position, the more points you get. So if one lands on its nose, it's called a Snouter and you get ten points. On its feet it's a Hoofer—five points. On its nose and ear it's a Leaning Jowler, and that's fifteen points. The hard part of the game is deciding to stop rolling, because if one pig lands on its left side and the other one lands on its right, you “Pig Out” and lose all your points from that roll.

“Sounds kind of dumb,” I say, though I actually think it could be fun.

“What could possibly be dumb about rolling pigs and scoring points? It's the most brilliant idea in the world!” Dad jokes, shaking the cup with the pigs. “Come on, Cleo, we don't want to play alone!”

“Okay, I guess. One game.”

Terri rolls first and she only scores ten points before she pigs out. She groans and hands the cup to Dad. He rolls twenty, decides to keep the points, and passes the pigs to me. Unlike Terri and Dad, I am an awesome roller. I rack up forty points without pigging out, and Terri says she's never seen anything like it. I get up to sixty-five points and I only need one hundred total to win. Dad tells me to think about stopping, but I can't.

A few rolls later, it happens. I pig out! All my hard work is now worth nothing. I scream. Terri screams…and then says the bad word I said in Recreational Wellness! I look at her in shock.

“Dad, did you hear that?”

“I couldn't help it,” she says, laughing. “Sorry.”

Even though I just lost a lot of points, I'm kind of laughing too because Terri takes this pig game seriously enough to say a bad word.

We keep playing. Dad makes me add up everyone's points, which is annoying but not as terrible as doing math problems because at least there's possible winning involved.

I learn to not be so greedy and try to stop rolling when I get to twenty points or so. With a couple more rolls, I win the game. As I'm cheering and dancing around the kitchen, Terri says that it's beginner's luck.

“No, it's not,” I tell her. “I won fair and square.”

“She's kidding, Cleo,” Dad says. Then he tells me it's time for bed. I groan, but I start to go. Slowly. I mean, Terri's not great, but neither is bedtime.

“Hey,” Dad says. “Why don't you show Terri your room before you hit the sack?”

“Do I have to?” I ask. One fun game with pigs is not going to change the way I feel about Dad's
girlfriend.

“Yes, you have to.” Dad turns to Terri and adds, “Cleo's got some really good artwork you might like.”

Since I have no choice, I let Terri follow me to my room. She notices Marty and Millie in their terrarium but turns her eyes away to the drawings and paintings and things pinned on my bulletin board.

“Who's this?” Terri asks, pointing at the picture of my mom in her blue floppy hat.

What is she doing looking at my mom? “That's my mom, and she's the only mom I'll ever have,” I snap at her. “That picture's going to be up there forever.”

“It should be,” Terri says. “She's pretty. You two have the same smile.”

Terri's right about that of course.

“What's this?” she asks, pointing at one of my new Pandaroo masterpieces.

I like talking about my drawings, but this time I do it in my unfriendliest voice. “He's one of the characters I created for my animation career. He travels through the galaxy and shoots rainbows out of his butt.”

“It almost looks like the rainbow is the energy that's propelling him through space,” she says. That's kind of a cool idea, but I keep that thought to myself.

“I'm working on some animation with him on the computer,” I say.

“Oh, can I see?” she asks, acting all interested when I'm sure she'd much rather be with Dad drinking wine and making smoochy noises.

“I don't know,” I say. “I only just started so I'm not very good at it yet.”

“Hey, if it's anything like your drawings, it'll be great!”

“O…kay.” I drag myself to my desk, sit down with a thump, and click around on my computer. “But all he's doing is moving across the screen and he's real jumpy….”

When I turn around, Terri is looking at the other things in my room. She picks up one of my robots and rolls her hands across the wheels under its feet. She squeezes a monster doll and it makes a growling noise. “That's spooky-looking. What is that?” she asks.

She's walking toward my dresser!

“Is that the doll your uncle sent you?”

She's heading for the voodoo doll!

In my head, I immediately hear the voice of Uncle Arnie:
“No others shall touch the doll until the spell has come to fruition…no others…no others…”

“No others” means Terri!

Her hand is reaching out to touch the doll, just like she touched all the other things in my room without asking.

“Don't touch it!” I yell. I jump out of my chair and grab the doll from the top of my dresser before she can get to it. “This is a very special and precious gift from my uncle, and it's not meant for anyone's hands except mine and Sam's!”

Terri seems surprised. “Sorry, I didn't know. It looked cool.”

“It
is
cool,” I snap. “I told Dad you shouldn't come in my room and I was right!”

“Okay,” she says, heading toward the hallway. “Well, thanks for playing Pig Mania with us.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Good night.” Terri closes the door behind her.

I can feel my heart punching the inside of my chest as I put the doll in its box and slide it under my bed where random people can't see and touch it. I change into my pajamas and lie down on my bed without getting under the covers. I stare at the ceiling because I'm not tired enough to close my eyes. Dad and Terri are talking in the kitchen, but I can't make out any real words. Then I hear footsteps coming toward my door.

“Cleo, are you all right?” Dad asks. “Do you want me to tuck you in?”

“No. You go talk with
Terri.
”

“Do you want me to come in so we can talk?”

“No,” I say, though I have plenty I'd like to tell him—like that Terri should go home, and soon. I'd like to say that I didn't want to clean my room for her, I didn't want to play a game with her, and she could have ruined the very important hex Samantha and I put so much work into. But I definitely can't tell him that one.

“You're sure you don't want a good-night kiss?” Dad asks from the other side of the door.

“No,” I say. “I'll see you in the morning.”

“Okay. Love you.”

I don't feel like saying “I love you” back tonight. So I just say, “Good night.”