Spellbound (10 page)

In chemistry, I handed Angelique the key to the home I had shared with my mom and Ethan, pre-Henry. I kept it on a purple ribbon and used it as a bookmark in my journal. She had asked me to bring something personal—the more personal, the better.

“It's really sentimental, so it won't get ruined in the spell, right?” I asked, concerned.

“Not at all,” she assured me. “Truthfully, that necklace might be the best, but we'll work with this and go in for the big guns if we have to.”

Angelique then leaned over and ripped out a few strands of hair. I clapped my hands over my mouth to stop from yelping.

“Sorry,” she apologized. “I should have warned you. I forgot. I'm just excited.”

“I could have pulled them out for you myself.” I pouted, rubbing my scalp. “I think you got some skin there.”

She stuck my hair in an envelope for safekeeping, and promised me that, by midnight tomorrow, I would be protected—and if not totally protected, at least I'd likely stop seeing lampposts explode. I had to admit, even though I wasn't really sold on the whole supernatural thing, I appreciated her concern.

After school, I walked home with Ashley, and figured she'd get a kick out of my supernatural adventures. “That
is
creepy,” she agreed. “I've definitely had lights go out above my head, but not a whole row of them. But maybe they were on the same power grid or something, and short-circuited.”

I liked her explanation. We were talking about the complexities of electrical engineering—we may as well have been talking about how to build a spaceship, since neither one of us knew a thing about it—when I realized she was rubbing her palms together, which she did when she was nervous about something.

“Ashley, what's going on?” I demanded, putting my hands over her fidgety fingers as they mashed together.

“You'll be mad,” she said mournfully.

“I might be
going
mad,” I conceded, “but I'm sure I won't
be
mad. Tell me.”

“Okay,” she said hesitantly, then it all tumbled out, her words tripping over themselves in her exuberance. “I'm seeing Anthony tonight! I know I told you that we were still talking on Facebook and stuff, but he also started talking to me in the library during free period, and he asked me out earlier this week. I didn't want to tell you 'cause you hate him but he's really nice and so cute, so don't hate me.”

She paused, but only because she was out of breath.

“Ashley, everything I've seen of Anthony tells me he's not a good guy,” I pleaded. “He's not worth your time.”

“Oh, I asked him about the fight in Central Park, and he said Frank insulted his mother,” Ashley said smugly. “He was just defending his mother's honor.”

“That's not the way I heard it went down, and even if it was, he didn't have to beat on the guy the way he did,” I argued.

“Emma, I'm happy. Can't you be happy for me?” Ashley gazed at me with her best puppy-dog eyes.

“I don't trust him, Ashley,” I maintained. “I wish you'd think about this.”

“I did,” she said, her voice less wheedling, more assertive. “I like him, I'm going to hang out with him tonight, so you can either be happy for me and hear all about it, or not.”

“Do Uncle Dan and Aunt Jess know?” I asked protectively. If her mom and dad okayed it, it had to be all right. “I mean, he's a lot older than you are.”

“It's only two years, Em. And I told them I was going out with some friends, which is kind of true. He asked me to come over to his house, since he was having a party after the school Halloween movie thing. A whole bunch of people from your class are going to be there. So I might even see you at his party anyway.”

“I wasn't invited,” I muttered, and Ashley blushed.

“I'm sorry, Em.”

I sighed. “Really, it's okay.” I flinched at the thought of Brendan, partying it up at Anthony's house with all the “cool” kids while I sat at home like a loser. That night with Brendan seemed like another lifetime ago, not just last weekend. I winced at the memory, surprised that I felt physically pained at the thought of how cold Brendan had been to me this week. It was like a thousand little needles were stabbing me in the chest.

I pulled myself out of my misery to focus on my baby cousin. “Are you going to be okay? He just comes across like such a player.”

“Emma,” she said, rolling her eyes, “I've been to parties before. I'll be fine. I'm just going to go and hang out with him a bit. Nothing's going to happen!”

“Famous last words,” I said dryly.

 

A little after midnight that night, I was sitting up in Aunt Christine's floral recliner after she had gone to bed. Angelique had called me to assure me that the protection spell was completed and I might even feel the change in my energy. I thanked her, and though I had decided that the lampposts most likely just needed maintenance, I was still secretly relieved when she told me to keep the ring.

What an exciting Friday night,
I thought, cringing when I compared it to last Friday, which I spent with
him
. I placated myself with the thoughts that it's not every day you get a bona fide witch doing spells in your honor on Halloween weekend. I eyed my cell phone, resting on the cushion next to me, warily. I had asked Ashley to call when she got to the party, so she could let me know that she was okay—and she definitely should have phoned me by now. I just couldn't shake my uneasy feelings about Anthony. He was the reason I'd split last weekend, and left Brendan's side. Which was, apparently, the only chance ever I'd have to be by it.

I was half working on my term paper on
A Midsummer Night's Dream
and half watching a classic Knicks game on some random sports network—Christine had the deluxe cable package and had hundreds of channels. Ever since I'd met Brendan, I suddenly had an interest in basketball.
I'm such a loser.

I was typing the quote, “The course of true love never
did run smooth,” from Act 1, when there was a knock at the door.

I paused. Maybe they have the wrong door?

The knocking turned to pounding, and I heard a timid voice call my name.

“Emma? I hear the TV…are you there?” The voice sounded tearful.

I tossed my laptop on the floral couch next to me, flew to the door and saw my little cousin standing there, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. Her lips trembled, and I grabbed her into my arms.

“What happened? Are you okay? What's going on?” I pulled Ashley into the living room and plopped her on the couch. She just sat there, sobbing so hard she triggered a coughing fit. I ran to get her a glass of water, and quickly sat back down next to her on the floral couch.

“Drink this,” I commanded, shoving the cold glass into Ashley's hands.

She gulped down half the glass, then put it on the coffee table.

“I feel like such an idiot,” she whimpered, her eyes shimmering with tears, which overflowed again. “What happened?”

She opened her mouth to speak, and instead started sobbing again—big, heartbreaking sobs.

“Ashley, you have to talk,” I said frantically. “I'm going crazy here! What happened?”

“Well, I showed up at Anthony's apartment, right when he told me to,” she began, nervously biting her lip to keep the tears at bay. “And I thought I was early, because there was no loud music or talking or anything. It was supposed to be a party, right?

“When he opened the door, it was just him, and he looked
me up and down and said, ‘Yeah, welcome to the party.' And then he grabbed my wrist and pulled me inside. I asked him where everyone else was and he just laughed and handed me a vodka and orange juice and it was like,
all
vodka, too.” Her words came tumbling out. She took a big, sobbing gulp of air, then continued.

“I waited for a second and asked him about the basketball team, like, when are they playing again and all the stuff we talked about on Facebook, and he was kind of giving me one-word answers and stuff, and then he sat down next to me and I asked him again, “Where is everyone?”

Ashley's voice broke, and I handed her a tissue from the fuzzy pink box Christine always kept on the end table.

“His family's place is
huge
and there was definitely no one else there. Anthony started rubbing my neck so I asked him
again
.”

I tried to keep my voice even. “And then what?” I asked.

“He says, ‘Don't be stupid, you know you're the party.'” She spit it out bitterly, wincing at the recollection. “I mean, what a lame line, right? And then, he starts laughing, and rubs my thigh. So I push him away and I tell him to leave me alone, and he keeps telling me, ‘Come on, you're so hot, you know I could get any girl I want,' blah, blah, blah, and that I should be so flattered. I didn't even have my coat off.”

She looked down, her already-crimson cheeks turning even redder. When she looked back up at me, her tear-streaked face was contorted with anger.

“He kept trying to get me to open my legs,” she choked out hoarsely. “He kept wedging his hand between my knees, so I slapped him. Then I reached for the drink and poured it in his lap.”

I was torn between rage at Anthony and pride in my cousin. “Good for you,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Not really, because then he got mad.”

My eyes widened. “Did he…hurt you?”

“No, it was nothing like that,” Ashley hastily said, seeing where I thought this conversation was going. But then she started in on the tears again.

“But he started yelling at me, ‘You're nothing but a tease. You're ugly anyway. You're gonna pay for this couch.' And he yanked me off the couch, and took my purse and threw it, and me, out the door.” She looked down, mournfully, at her black Betsey Johnson bag, her favorite accessory now a woeful reminder, then turned her bloodshot blue eyes back at me.

“I'm really sorry, Emma,” Ashley whispered.

“What?” I was incredulous. “Why are you apologizing to
me?
”

“Because you were right. I should have listened to you.”

“Look, there was no way to know what you were walking into,” I said, putting my arm around my cousin and rubbing her shoulder. “I only thought you were going to a party that was going to get out of hand. And that was only because I hung out with those guys once and I felt like
I
was in over
my
head. I had no idea he was capable of this….”

I continued what I felt were feeble attempts at comforting Ashley, who just shrugged glumly. My heart sank. I realized this was
the
moment for her, the moment your innocence—not your physical innocence, but your emotional one—was lost. After that, you looked at the world more harshly and your heart was harder.

“It'll be okay,” I said, softly. “Really. You'll feel better in the morning.” I tried my best to convince her but it was difficult because I didn't really have any faith myself.

I called her parents and convinced them to let her stay the night. I said she had a fight with one of her girlfriends at the party and was upset, so after leaving a note on the kitchen table
for Aunt Christine explaining our overnight guest, Ashley and I tucked into my bed. Our plans for Anthony's destruction were sporadically interrupted by me consoling her and telling her she really wasn't stupid, this really wasn't her fault, she really was pretty and, no, not all guys are evil. I told her if I really did have some supernatural force after me, I would sic it on Anthony. For a moment, I truly hoped I did have a bitter spirit in my arsenal. If so, I had work for it to do.

We walked to school on Monday, having passed the weekend helping Ashley's parents give out candy to the trick-or-treaters in their building. Ashley didn't want to leave home, and I didn't want to leave her alone. As we crossed the street to Vincent Academy, I reminded Ashley again that she likely wouldn't even see Anthony. They didn't have any classes together—just a free period—which she could spend in an empty classroom, doing homework.

For me, it wasn't so easy. In the cafeteria, I spent most of my time glaring at Anthony from across the room. He didn't even notice me—I wasn't on his radar anymore; there were younger girls to be preyed upon, after all. I was seething—angry at him, angry at myself. I knew I should have stopped her, but she was so determined to go her own way.
No, no excuses, Emma. You should have looked out for her better. But you were too caught up in Brendan ignoring you to take care of Ashley.

As we were walking out of the cafeteria and heading to our next class, I turned to Cisco.

“Okay, I have to get this off my chest,” I said, my eyes narrowing.

“Emma, I'd be pissed at Anthony, too. I saw you giving
him the stink eye,” Cisco admitted, giving me a sympathetic look.

“He's a such piece of— Wait, how do you know why I'm mad at him?” I asked suspiciously. I felt an angry pit beginning to form in my stomach and began walking more slowly.

Cisco slowed his walk as well, keeping in step with me. He leaned in and whispered in a low voice, “Well, if my baby cousin slept with a creeper like Anthony and then he told the entire school, I wouldn't be thrilled, either.”

I could feel my blood boiling. The pit in my stomach sprouted, and the anger took over all my senses.

“That's
not
what happened,” I hissed, my hands clenched into fists. “
Here's
what really went down.” I quickly relayed the events of Friday night—how my traumatized cousin had come over, a fountain of tears.

Cisco sighed and paused on the staircase. “You know, he's always bragging about this girl and that girl.” Cisco adopted Anthony's swaggering pose and mimicked his voice. “‘I banged this chick from Dominican Academy…I totally hooked up with that piece from Dalton.' He probably either coerced them or just straight-up lied.”

“Well, this time, he's lying,” I seethed.

“How's Ashley?” Cisco asked, concern in his voice.

“Last time I saw her, she didn't know Anthony was saying all this about her. I'll see Ash at the end of the day in Latin. I swear I'll kill him,” I fumed, turning to head downstairs to chemistry.

“If you hear anyone say anything…” I began.

“Don't worry, I'll tell them he's lying,” he assured me.

 

At first, Angelique thought her spell had gone sour. “There's such anger and rage around you,” she fretted. “I need to do
the spell again.” She reached into my hair to yank out more strands when I stopped her, explaining what was happening.

“He said
that
about your little cousin?” Her eyes darted around the room. “I can't do anything
to
Anthony, you see. Whatever I put into the universe comes back at me threefold. But maybe there is something we could do that isn't
too
bad….” She started scanning the printouts that were tucked into the back of her notebook.

“It's okay.” I smiled. “But thank you. You're a good friend.” Angelique grinned, and we both grimaced when we heard Kristin make kissing noises behind us.

“Get a room, freaks,” she sneered. I just rolled my eyes and flipped her off. She was the least of my worries.

The seconds ticked by slowly, slowly, until it was time to walk into freshman Latin. I scanned the room for Ashley's face but couldn't see her anywhere. I wanted to give her a hug, a kind word, a dartboard with Anthony's face on it when I noticed her friends glancing at me uncomfortably.

I slid over to her gaggle of girlfriends who were, for once, silent.

“Spill it, where is she?” I asked bluntly.

Catharine, a pretty brunette, mumbled, “She went home sick.” Her fingers made air quotes around the word sick. “She was really embarrassed.”

My eyes narrowed. “What Anthony's saying about her isn't true. You guys know that, right?”

“I know, I know,” she said emphatically. “But try telling her that. The entire freshman class thinks she's easy. Three guys asked her out today—and this one guy told his friends it's 'cause he heard she was a good time.”

I felt it again, my blood boiling. Cotton stuffed my ears, and all I could hear was my own pulse, throbbing in my head.

“Not everyone believes it!” Catharine was quick to say. “But—” she looked down “—a lot of people do.”

Vanessa, Ashley's fellow redhead, leaned in and said, “He said she was easier to get into than public school.”
Wow, arrogant
and
cruel, what a combo.

I didn't hear much after that. Not Mrs. Dell, the Latin teacher. Not the chalk as it scratched on the blackboard. I was only aware of the sound of the large clock hanging above the blackboard as it ticked down the seconds, and the throbbing I felt in my own head. When the bell finally rang, it sounded like a scream. I grabbed my backpack and flung it over my shoulder.

“Are you going to Ashley's house? Will you tell her to call me?” Catharine asked, concerned. Gossipy or not, at least these girls genuinely cared about my cousin, I realized.

“Not quite yet,” I muttered. My feet couldn't move fast enough as I sped down the flights of stairs, past the gym and through the double doors that opened onto the quad. I shoved them open with a forceful push. I glared at the end of the quad where Anthony, Frank and the rest of that crew were starting up their usual after-school basketball game. Somewhere in my head, it registered that Brendan wasn't there.

I dropped my bag—threw it, actually, under a bench to my right—and walked right into the middle of the game, pulling my long hair back into a ponytail with the black elastic band I had on my wrist as I marched forward.

I strode in front of Frank, cutting him off. “Yo, we're playing here,” he said curtly.

I ignored him, heading straight for Anthony.

He had his back to me. He was huge, and built like a linebacker. Anthony had to be at least six-four, the alarmed thought went off in the back of my mind.

“Anthony.” My voice was low and angry, but steady.

He ignored me, still dribbling the orange ball.

“Anthony Caruso!” I yelled.

Startled, he stepped forward and lost his handle on the ball. It sputtered on the floor, then rolled away. Anthony straightened up, turned around and faced me.

“What do
you
want?”

Justice? Was that a good answer?

“I want you to tell the truth about my cousin,” I said, my voice loud but calm.

“And just who the hell is your cousin?” Anthony snapped. He wasn't so calm.

“Ashley? The girl you're lying about? Saying you slept with? Does it ring a bell?” I shouted back. There went my calm. A small, interested crowd of about ten people started to form.

He laughed and adjusted his shirt. “Sure, I'll say that.” He leaned in and, loudly enough so everyone could hear, sneered, “It's not like I'm proud of it. She wasn't any good.”

Anthony laughed—an evil little cackle that seemed to spread across my skin like flames—and spun away from me to return to his game.

“Don't you dare turn away from me, you liar,” I screamed at his back, my face feeling hot. “Or do you only harass freshmen and girls a foot and a half shorter than you? Because that makes you a
real
man, right?”

I heard snickers coming from the guys gathered around us, and Anthony turned back to face me.

“You wouldn't know what a real man is, but your cousin sure does,” he said, grinning menacingly. “Let me know if she wants another go.”

Henry's face appeared in front of me. They were so alike—they only preyed on those who were weaker, smaller, powerless, those with no one to stand up for them. Not this time.

“You're lying!” I yelled, my hands clenched into fists. “She
rejected you, and you know it. But tell me another story, Mother Goose. You seem
full
of fairy tales.”

Anthony glared at me, stepping closer. I only came up to his chest, but I stared straight up, meeting his cold blue eyes. He was just a few inches from me.

“Who do you think you are, you little freak?” He shoved me, both hands hitting my shoulders hard. I definitely wasn't expecting that. I stumbled when he made contact, losing my footing and almost falling backward. I took a few steps and maintained my balance, staring back at the monster.

“You need to watch your mouth, little girl,” Anthony snarled, his voice low and menacing as he crouched low in front of me, meeting my eyes. “You won't like what happens to you.”

“I'm not afraid of you,” I snapped. “Tell the truth about my cousin. Admit that you didn't sleep with Ashley.”

His eyes narrowed, and I knew he was going to shove me again. I expected it this time. Like I had with Henry so many times before, I jumped back before he could make contact. He stumbled forward, and I heard the guys in the crowd laugh and jeer at Anthony, getting shown up by a
girl.
I didn't think this was a good thing—with his ego, it would only make him madder, I assumed. I hadn't been looking for a brawl in the schoolyard; all I wanted was for him to admit the truth about my cousin. I realized too late that I should have approached this with some kind of strategy.

I warily glanced at the growing crowd to see who was watching.
Oh, everyone.
Past them, I saw Brendan pushing open the main doors to the quad. He had his headphones on and was looking down at his cell phone, completely oblivious to the spectacle before him.

Anthony had regained his footing and was advancing, his hulking form filling most of my view. I whirled my head
around for an exit strategy and spied the nearest door.
If things get
really
ugly, I can just make a run for it.

“If I slept with your skanky cousin that's none of your business, Emma,” Anthony yelled in my face. I was surprised that he remembered my name. “What's your problem, huh? You want a piece? Sorry, you're not my type.”

“Right, 'cause
I'm
not afraid of you, remember?” I glared back.

I heard someone yell at Anthony to calm down.

“Back off, man, she's a girl,” Frank called timidly. He had a black eye and bruised nose from his last encounter with Anthony. But the monster just ignored him.

“You're going to regret this,” Anthony fumed, pure hate in his eyes. I knew that look—things were definitely about to get ugly. I took a few quick steps back—right into the side door, ready to make a run for it. My hands fumbled behind me on the doorknob, frantically twisting it to no avail. Anthony's chest was practically touching me. I'd cornered myself.

“No one makes me look stupid and gets away with it,” he hissed.

I couldn't let him see that I was scared—especially now that I was trapped. People like him fed off other people's fear.

“Move,” I demanded. I heard someone else yell for him to back off.

“No, you got what you wanted,” he snarled. “Well, you have my attention now.”

“Move, I said!” I screamed, and pressed my palms to his huge chest, trying to push him back.

“I told you, keep your hands to yourself, skank,” Anthony hissed, his eyes narrow.

“Oh, what are you gonna do if I don't?” I asked—and then I regretted my question immediately.

I got an answer pretty quickly. Anthony pulled his meaty right hand back. It was clenched into a grapefruit-size fist.

I was frozen against the door. I didn't flinch. I'd taken a hit from Henry before. In my mind, all I could think was,
Go ahead. Hit me, and then you'll get expelled.

He never had the chance. Within seconds, Brendan had pinned him on the ground, his knee pressed into Anthony's chest as his fingers gripped him by the throat, forcing him onto the cold concrete.

“Don't touch her.” Brendan's voice was almost a growl as it shook with rage. “Don't you ever touch her.” His green eyes flashed as if they were filled with flames.

Dazed, Anthony lay on the ground. Realization dawned on him, and Anthony saw that he was no longer standing and facing off with me, but pinned down by his teammate.

“What do you think you're doing, Brendan?” Anthony shouted, clawing at the hand around his throat. Brendan's other hand was clenched tightly into a fist, cocked back and ready. He dug his knee farther into Anthony's chest, and the blond gasped for air as his legs kicked out, trying to find some purchase against Brendan's iron grasp.

“You don't touch her. You don't talk to her. You don't look at her.
Ever,
” Brendan ordered again, keeping his green eyes locked on Anthony's face.

“What's your problem, bro? She started with me!” Anthony yelled, whipping his head sideways to glare at me.

“Oh, really? Something Emma did deserves you trying to punch her?” Brendan's voice was calmer this time, which made it startlingly more threatening.

“I wasn't gonna punch her, bro,” Anthony whined, still kicking. “She started with me!”

“It seems to me that you started everything, as usual,” Brendan said. “You running your fat mouth again?”

“Whatever, man, get off me.” Anthony squirmed, his efforts useless against the viselike grip Brendan had on him. Anthony was bulkier than Brendan but it was obvious that Brendan was much stronger. I saw the tendons in his forearm flex as he held Anthony immobile.

“Nope.” Brendan's voice was almost playful underneath the malice. “Can't do that, buddy. If what you've been saying about her cousin isn't true, admit it. Or—” Brendan lowered his face closer to Anthony's, his voice frighteningly cruel “—
you'll
regret it. I promise you that, Ant.”