Frogs & French Kisses #2 (19 page)

“Hope to see you soon,” Miri says, her voice sounding sad. Apparently, even my I-want-Mom-to-be-miserable-and-alone-and-all-ours sister has been charmed by Lex.

He reaches for the door handle and gives us his warm smile. “Take care of yourselves, girls.”

“Thanks,” we say, choking back tears. Okay, not really, but almost.

The closing of the door echoes throughout the apartment. I sigh. “Mom just stood up the nicest man in the world.”

Miri shakes her head in disgust. “I know! What are we going to do with her? Do you think she’s having a midlife crisis?”

“Yes.”

“She should just zap herself up a Corvette and get it over with.”

When she finally calls us back at seven-thirty, I’m furious. “Where are you?” I can barely hear her, she’s surrounded by so much noise.

“Everything all right, honey?” she yells.

“You missed your date!” I yell back.

“What? I can’t hear you! I’m on my date!”

“No, you missed it! With Lex!”

“I can’t hear you, hon. Reception is terrible. I’ll try not to be home too late. I left money for takeout! Make sure you do your homework!”

This. Is. Absurd. Miri and I spend the rest of the night pacing. And complaining about our mother. And pacing some more. We take a break for
Saturday Night Live
but continue pacing during the commercials.

We fall asleep on the couch. When the clock says two a.m., I’m awakened by the clink of a key in the door. Then the lights zap on. Yes, zap. Miri is still unconscious, but I’m quickly on my feet, ready to attack.

“What is wrong with you?” I growl, hands on my hips. Sniff. Sniff, sniff. And Mom reeks of smoke. Like she was
bathing
in cigarettes. “You’re smoking again.”

Her face falls. “Bars,” she mumbles. “People smoke in them.”

Gasp. She just lied right to my face. There’s no smoking in bars in the city! “Mother, you’re smoking again. You’re using magic like crazy. You’re going on more dates than you can handle. You’re home too late. You stood up Lex.”

She grimaces.

“Are you having a midlife crisis?”

Her face cements into an unreadable expression. She slowly removes her shoes and leaves them in a mess on the floor. She walks past me and into the kitchen. “I forgot about Lex.”

I follow her. “I know. It was rude.”

She waves me away and pours a glass of water. “You didn’t even want me going out with him!”

“I was wrong. I admit it. He’s very nice and you’ve probably ruined your chances with him. I hope you’re happy.”

She shrugs. “There are lots of fish in the sea. But frankly, Rachel, I don’t appreciate being told what to do by a fourteen-year-old.”

“Well, someone has to tell you. You’re acting crazy.” I make a cuckoo motion with my finger. “Why do you have to be so extreme? You went from
no
magic,
no
dating, and
no
smoking to drowning in magic, dating, and smoking. Don’t you know how to ease yourself in? First a pinky toe, then a foot, then a leg—”

She slams the glass onto the table, sending water flying everywhere. As if I haven’t had enough waterworks for one night. “Are we not clear? I’m the mother. You’re the daughter. I tell
you
what to do.”

I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach. “Then act like my mother,” I snap. I run into my room, slamming the door behind me. She’d better come apologize. She always comes to talk to me when I slam the door. Slamming the door = I need to talk.

Five minutes pass. What is she doing? I peek into the hallway. The nerve of her! She’s taking a shower. I hope the water is still cold.

13

At Least My Middle Name Isn’t Lucretia

My mom and I ignore each other on Sunday. Not that she’s around to be ignored. She has a lunch date with Nick, pops home in the afternoon, takes a nap, and decides to make us a cheese soufflé for dinner (out of remorse, I bet) but then forgets it’s in the oven while she showers and lets it burn to a crisp. She zaps up a new one for us, along with a salad and apple cider, and then goes out with Tony for dinner. I refuse to eat her guilt dish out of principle, and make macaroni and cheese instead. The microwave kind. I accidentally add too much milk and it ends up being macaro-mush.

Miri spends most of the day trying and failing to find a better rain spell. I spend most of the day on the phone with Tammy.

Her: “Bosh invited me to prom!”

Despite my sympathy for poor Aaron, I shriek with joy, “We can double!”

Tammy: “I can’t go to prom with someone while I have a boyfriend! And anyway, there might not even be a prom.”

“There will be,” I say. “I’ll worry about that. You worry about dumping poor Aaron already.”

Meanwhile, I stare at the potted TV, which still looks like a bowl of dirt and nothing like a television. “Shouldn’t it be growing?” I ask for the sixteenth time.

Miri pokes it with a pencil. “It takes time.”

“But it hasn’t done any developing.” And I know. I’ve been lying on my carpet watching for the last eight hours.

“Give it till tomorrow.”

“It had better work. I have no backup plan.”

She opens the window to let in some fresh air. “You have to think positively! If you don’t believe in it, it won’t work. Like the tooth fairy.”

“You sound like Mom.”

“Well, she was right, wasn’t she? As soon as I said that I didn’t believe in the fairy, that I knew it was Mom, she stopped putting money under my pillow. And where did that leave me?”

“Five dollars poorer?”

“Exactly. So don’t worry. Until tomorrow, anyway. Then you can freak out. Has my magic ever let you down?”

Uh, yeah. The phone rings, distracting me.

“Hi, dear!”

“Hi, Dad,” I say, and stretch out on my bed. “How are you?”

“Long week. You know. Getting back to the office after so much glorious time off.” He yawns in my ear.

“Tired?”

“A little.”

We chitchat for a few seconds and then he passes the phone to Jennifer. “What’s up?” I say.

“It’s a madhouse around here,” she says. “You wouldn’t believe what my daughter is doing. She refuses to sleep in her own bed. Absolutely refuses. How are we supposed to conceive if she won’t leave us alone?”

Ew. I’m not sure why she thinks I’m the appropriate person to discuss this with. Gasp—does she think we’re friends? Buddies? Does she think I’m someone who wants to hear about her marital relationship with my dad? That is so gross. I can’t stand it. I close my eyes, trying to shut out the repulsive images—which makes it worse. “I don’t know what to say.” Except, please stop talking.

“I am so depressed! I don’t have time to waste. I’m already thirty-six. And Priscilla is acting like a child.”

“She’s only five.”

“Almost six. It’s her birthday next weekend, remember? She’s too old for this! I’m too old for this!”

“I’m sure she’ll snap out of it.”

A loud sigh. “I know. You’re right, Rachel. You know exactly what I’m thinking.”

What is going on here? Why am I her new best friend? She’s my stepmom! She should be acting her role—mean and bossy. And my mother should be acting like a mother. Why can’t everyone behave properly?

“It’s just that I spent so much time worrying about the wedding that now I’m behind on all my other projects. Like finding a summer rental in the Hamptons. And my car has been giving me trouble—”

Beep!

Thank goodness, it’s my call waiting. “One sec,” I say, and click off. “Hello?”

“Hey, gorgeous,” says Will’s deep, manly voice.

Ah. See? No role confusion on his end. Me = girlfriend. “Hi! How was the rest of your weekend?”

“Cool. You? What did you do last night?” he asks.

“Oh, I wasn’t feeling so hot,” I say. I can’t exactly tell him I stayed home doing nothing on a Saturday night, can I?

“Are you better?”

A concerned boyfriend. Cuteness. “A-okay. What’s up?”

“Penthouse Fifty needed a deposit. So I gave them two thousand dollars.”

Don’t panic. “Where did you get the money? From ticket sales?”

“No, I had to use the advance ticket sales to give the caterer a deposit. I just took it out of my savings.”

My stomach free-falls. “Are you kidding me? The money you’ve been saving for college?” Doesn’t he know the first rule of business: never use your own money?

“No worries. You said you’re bringing in a big-ticket item, right? Any hints as to what it is?”

He’s basing his future on my promises? What if I can’t deliver? “It’s, um, a secret. Until tomorrow.” I forgot about Jennifer! “Will you hold on? I’m just getting off the other line.” Click. “Jennifer?”

“—you know? And my tan is already fading. And all the good rentals are gone.”

I don’t think she realized
I
was gone. “That’s awful, Jennifer. Really. But I have to go. Will and I have to work on the prom auction. We have to raise fourteen thousand dollars.”

“I love auctions! Are you selling any good stuff?”

Gulp. “Hopefully.”

“Can I come?”

“Sure, parents are invited.” Did I just use the word
parent
in association with her? “Can I tell you more about it next weekend?”

“Sure, sorry. Have fun with Will. Are you going to invite him to the Hamptons for a week?”

“I thought you didn’t have a house yet.”

“I’ll find one. So will you?”

My finger is eagerly hovering over the Flash button. “No, he’s going to camp for the summer.”

“He is? What camp?”

“Wood Lake,” I say.

“Really? Hey, that’s an idea.”

“Jennifer, I have to go. Emergency school stuff, remember?” I say good-bye and switch back. “So where were we?” Eight days till the auction, and eleven days until prom, that’s where. And I still don’t have a TV or a dress.

By Monday morning, the TV has yet to grow even an antenna. I walk to school with a heavy heart. At lunch, I buy a muffin in the caf and head straight to the lounge. Will and Kat are already there, sitting on the floor, cutting out paddles for the auction.

I plop down beside Will and he kisses me on the forehead. “So are you going to tell me the big secret? What are you bringing in?” He looks at me with those puppy dog please-feed-me eyes.

“Wide-screen TVs,” I blurt out. Oops. Think positively, don’t speak positively. “I’m working on it,” I add quickly.

The puppy dogs light up. “They go for like four grand! That would be
so
cool. Where are you getting them?”

“Family connections,” I say as nonchalantly as possible. “I’m still working out some of the details.”

Kat nods. “Awesome. When do you think you can bring them in?”

“I . . .” That’s an excellent question. Even more excellent,
how
am I going to bring them in? Am I planning to carry them on my back? No worries. Miri must know a moving spell. Maybe she’ll put them on her back and do the transport spell. Not.

Will smiles at me. “We should send out an e-mail with a list of the stuff that’s being auctioned off, so students know to bring lots of green. Or their parents’ credit cards.”

“I’m thirsty,” Kat says, putting down her scissors. “Anyone want a drink?”

“No, thanks,” Will and I both say.

“See you in five.” Kat removes her wallet from her backpack and closes the door behind her.

Will immediately wraps his arms around my waist. “Finally, we’re alone.”

My heartbeat speeds up like I just ran to class. He gives me one of those perfect kisses. Soft, sweet, warm. How lucky am I?

After a couple of minutes, I pull away. “We need to get back to work,” I say, smiling. “These flyers aren’t going to make and hang themselves.”

“Very true. But we need more paper. Can you check in Kat’s binder? She said she brought orange cardboard.”

“Sure.” I skip over to the pink couch and take Kat’s binder out of her backpack. “Here we go,” I say, pulling out the paper. And that’s when I see the neat blue ink writing on the inside wing. First her address and then:

Kat Kosravi

Kat Postansky-Kosravi

Mrs. Katherine Kosravi

Mrs. Will Kosravi

Mrs. Katherine Lucretia Postansky-Kosravi

I slam the binder shut. Without the proof staring me in the face, it’s easier not to care that Kat likes Will. Is it possible that beneath the spell Will has feelings for Kat? “Will,” I say, handing him the orange paper, “if we hadn’t gotten together, who would you have asked to the prom?”

He lies on his stomach and pulls the cap off a black marker. “Probably Kat.”

Oh, no. “Really? Did you two ever go out?”

The apples of his cheeks turn red. “Me and Kat? No. She’s, like, my best female friend.”

“And you never thought about asking her out?”

He shifts on the floor, starting to look uncomfortable. “I thought about it. But then you came along, and I realized that it was you I wanted to go with. And be with.” He blows me a kiss. “Don’t be jealous.”

It’s not jealousy that’s creeping up my spine. It’s guilt. I feel bad for her. Not only is her middle name
Lucretia,
but I stole her boyfriend. As soon as prom is over, I have to set him free.

I head straight to my room when I get home. Mom’s out, of course. And there’s still no TV.

Miri is already sitting in front of the cauldron, staring. “If it’s not there by morning, we’ll try something new.”

“Uh-huh.”

I spend the night tossing and turning, and turning and tossing. Every time I turn toward the bowl, I can’t stop myself from opening my eyes and staring at its barrenness. I don’t even remember falling asleep, but the next thing I know, the sunlight is spearing my eyelids. I open them slowly. Please let there be a TV. Pretty please?

Omigod. Right in front of my eyes is the largest TV ever. It stretches across my window, from my bed to my desk. I don’t believe it. The spell worked! I am overwhelmed with awe. It’s gorgeous. Amazing. A metallic fixture of true beauty. Long, rectangular, black, and sleek.

“Miri! Come look!” I scream. But a quick peek at the clock tells me that it’s only six a.m. Oops.

A second later, she’s at my door, dressed in shorts and a tank top—and covered in soot. “It grew?”

“Where were you?”

Miri yawns. “Back at the bushfires, trying to blow them out. But it didn’t work.”

She’s really starting to worry me. “Do you even sleep anymore?”

She rolls her eyes. “I can’t waste time sleeping, Rachel. I have too many important things to do.” She approaches the TV and taps her fingers on the screen. “This is cool.”

“Isn’t it? Let’s do the multiplying spell right away! Let’s make five for the auction, then one for you and one for me!”

She raises an eyebrow. “Mom doesn’t get one?”

Humph. “Not these days.” I haven’t spoken to Mom since our fight. “I can’t wait to show the soc. Can we do the multiplying spell right after school?”