Frogs & French Kisses #2 (23 page)

What about the clothes we gave away?

I type in
clothing disappearance
and am horrified to read that after a hundred shirts disappeared from Bloomingdale’s Soho on Saturday, May 1, a staff member was fired, even though she claimed she hadn’t taken them.

Is magic just stealing from someone else?

If I went to Circuit City, would a salesperson tell me that a fifty-inch wide-screen TV had disappeared one day and then reappeared shortly after?

Instead of saving the day, are we taking from the rich to give to the poor? Are we not Batman and Robin, but Robin Hood and a merry man?

15

Going Once, Going Twice, Going Fourteen Thousand Times

I am hiding in the student council closet.

The first bell just rang and there’s no way I can be seen in the hallway, because then everyone will ask me where my TV is and I will have to admit failure. Admit that there is no TV. No car, no
anything.
I have nothing to auction off. Will is going to dump me, spell or no spell. We’re going to raise only a measly few hundred dollars, and Will is going to lose his deposit and be known as the worst JFK soc president ever. And I’ll be known as the worst girlfriend ever. No wonder I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I am a hazard to men.

He will probably be so upset that he’ll need to spend some time rethinking his life, and he’ll put off going to college for an entire semester. And in that time he’ll get some random job. Like as a limo driver. Every day he’ll pass the Columbia campus and feel a heaviness in his heart, and then one day he’ll pick up some crazy client who will yell at him for no reason, and he’ll get distracted and veer into a pole and then spin the other way, drive straight off the Brooklyn Bridge, and plunge to his death.

Sob. I’ve killed my boyfriend.

I came in early today with the hope of being inspired by the donations. Unfortunately, the donations are thousands short of true inspiration. If only we could auction off broom rides. Although, after what I discovered on Sunday, I’m not sure I ever want to use magic again.

I stiffen at the sound of the door opening. Clomp, clomp, clomp. I’m about to be found out. Discovered. The person is opening the closet. He/she must smell my desperation. The light spears my eyes and I blink twice.

“What are you doing here?” asks Kat. “What’s wrong?”

Terrific. She’ll expose me to Will as a complete fraud and he’ll dump me. I know she’s always acted nice, but surely she’ll use my failure to her advantage. Before I can stop myself, I burst into tears. “I don’t have the TV!” I snivel. “I have nothing to sell. The auction is going to be a big flop and it’s all my fault.”

Kat’s creamy vanilla forehead wrinkles in concern. “It’s
not
your fault. You didn’t put the cows in the gym.”

I hiccup. Little does she know. “But I promised Will I would have something to auction off.”

She climbs into the cupboard beside me. “Let’s brainstorm. What do you have that’s sellable?”

Doesn’t she listen? “Nothing, that’s the problem.”

She pulls her purple pen out from behind her ear and taps it against the closet. “Aren’t you a math genius? Exams are coming up. Why don’t you sell blocks of tutorial time?”

Well.

Why, that’s a good idea. I could tutor. I realize something else: there are lots of smarties at JFK. I’m not the
only
one. What about help in essay writing? Biology? My heart races with excitement. “We can ask all the smart people to auction off tutoring!”

“There you go,” Kat says, smiling. “Problem solved.”

My mind is whirling. “And not only tutoring. There are a million things we can auction off. Like . . . a date with the hottest senior?”

Kat’s pen is tapping in overtime. “Locker cleaning? Slave for a day? Tennis lessons?”

I reach over and give her a big hug. “You’re a genius!”

She backs her way out of the closet. “I’m going to beg Konch to let us take the morning to prepare. You start making a list of all the services.” She tosses me her pen. “Let’s hope this works.”

I’m already scribbling as the final bell rings.

“I can’t believe she said no,” Tammy says, shaking her head. “We’re trying to save
her
prom!”

“She’s horrible. What did you expect?” I ask.

It’s freshman lunch, and Tammy and I are washing our hands in the girls’ bathroom before returning to the lounge. London has refused to auction off dance lessons. And it’s not because she can’t—her cast came off at the beginning of last week—it’s because she just doesn’t feel like it. (Who knows? Maybe she doesn’t have a date!) Not that it matters; we’ve lined up fifty students who are willing to volunteer their services.

We’re so busy complaining about London that we barely even notice Jewel, Melissa, and Doree spilling into the bathroom.

You know what? I’m no longer afraid of them. In fact . . . “Guys,” I say bravely, “I have a favor to ask you.”

The three of them freeze in shock. “What?” Melissa snarls, crossing her arms.

“I was wondering if you three, and Stephy, would be willing to be part of the senior auction today and sell a dance lesson. Since you four were so good in the show. What do you say? We would really appreciate it.”

Tammy, Doree, Jewel, and Melissa are all looking at me as though I should be institutionalized.

Melissa shakes her head. “Have you not noticed that Stephy hasn’t been here for, like, a month?”

Oh. Not really. I lean against the sink. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Duh,” Doree says. “She has mono.”

Tammy snaps to attention. “She does?”

Melissa gives her evil grin. “Yup. She got it from your boyfriend. They had a little make-out session over spring break.”

“What?” Tammy and I both scream.

“Sorry to be the one to break it to you.” She smirks. “But your boyfriend’s a cheater.”

At first Tammy doesn’t speak. Her lips form a shocked O.

“You’re not going to start crying, are you?” Melissa says, thoroughly enjoying this.

Tammy’s O slowly turns into a huge smile. “Fantastic! He’s so history!”

I laugh. Melissa, Jewel, and Doree give each other a what-weirdos! look.

“So how about the three of you, then?” I ask. Might as well.

Melissa tosses her long red hair behind her back. “As if.”

Oh well. Didn’t hurt to ask. I shrug and am about to head out the door when I hear: “I’ll do it.”

I turn back and realize that it was Jewel. She’s looking me right in the eye. “You will?” I ask. My heart skips a beat. Is it possible? Is this Jewel’s way of . . . making amends?

Doree and Melissa are scowling at her.

“Yeah,” she says, smiling hopefully at me. “Why not?”

“Sixty, do-we-have-a-sixty-five? Sixty-five to the young man in the red sweatshirt. Do-we-have-a-seventy?” says Jeffrey. I’ve never seen an auctioneer, but I bet Jeffrey is the best one ever. Who even knew he could talk?

The auditorium is packed with students, teachers, and parents. We’ve raised more than eight thousand dollars so far, which is great but not nearly enough. We’ve gone through most of the items—clothes, books, CDs, picture frames, dinners. We’re almost done auctioning off the students’ services. Kat and I are sitting on plastic chairs offstage, keeping track of the income. Bosh and Tammy are suspiciously absent. I’m pretty sure they’re making out in the soc lounge. Right after we left the bathroom, Tammy found Aaron in the finally fixed cafeteria and dumped him.

“Last call at seventy dollars for ten hours of biology tutoring? Come on, boys and girls, chemicals are confusing! If you fail bio, you’re not getting into a good college. Seventy to the guy with the goatee in the back row. Do-I-hear-seventy-five? Seventy-going-once-going-twice-going-three-times. Sold!”

Hah. My five hours of math tutoring went for eighty. Never mind. Jewel’s dance lessons went for two hundred.

Jeffrey holds the next item above his head. “Two prom tickets for nonseniors. Price starting at a hundred dollars for both. Do I hear a hundred?”

Where did those come from? Will must have slipped them in.

A sophomore raises her paddle.

Kat nudges me with her foot. “Maybe I should buy them,” she jokes.

“Do I hear a hundred and twenty? A hundred and twenty to the girl in the back! Do I hear a hundred and thirty?”

“You’re going to come for a bit, aren’t you?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I can only go if a senior asks me.”

“That’s insane. You worked on it all year. The prom wouldn’t be happening without you.”

She shrugs. “That’s the way it works. Don’t look so horrified,” she adds, giving me her big smile. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“A hundred and thirty. Do I hear a hundred and forty?”

“Buy the tickets!” I urge. “Then you can go.”

“I don’t have anyone to go with,” she says. “Really, it doesn’t matter. I’ll go next year.” Her head stays straight, but I can’t help noticing that her eyes trail to the other side of the stage—where Will is now standing, holding four jackets.

I feel a dipping in my stomach. Will would have asked Kat if it weren’t for Miri’s love spell. As with the oranges, and the clothes, and the car, I stole his affection.

“Sold for three hundred dollars to the pretty redhead!”

My head snaps up at the word
redhead.
I peer out from behind the curtain to see who’s cheering. Melissa. Groan. Melissa is going to prom? That means Raf will be at prom too.

“Maybe the four of you can double,” Kat offers.

Double groan.

“Next up, donated by the generous Kosravis from Kosa Coats and Goods, we have classic men’s high-grade leather jackets, in the color camel, sizes small, medium, large, and extra large. Retail value six hundred and thirty-five dollars each. We’re starting off with size small. Do I hear a hundred?”

My heart lurches. Now I’ll be thinking I’m seeing Raf everywhere. Definitely a potential problem.

But not the only problem. Will’s jackets are our last items. That means that after these products, we’re out of loot to auction off. And we’ve raised only ten thousand dollars. We’re still four thousand dollars short! Even if the coats earn their retail value, that’s only two thousand five hundred and forty dollars!

I watch with a sinking feeling as the size small goes for four hundred and fifty, the medium and large go for six hundred apiece, and the extra large goes to Mr. Earls for only three hundred fifty. We’re two thousand dollars short.

We didn’t make it. After all that, we’re still going to have to cancel prom.

I’m about to cry when Will walks over to River with a final bag. More coats?

“And for our final item tonight, also from Kosa Coats & Goods, we have a brand-new limited edition Izzy Simpson leather hobo bag, retail value one thousand five hundred dollars.”

Yes! One more item to go! A gorgeous item, if I do say so myself. Izzy Simpson is my all-time favorite designer. Not that I would
ever
spend so much money on a bag. But if someone buys it, we’re almost saved.

“Bidding starts at five hundred! Do I have a bidder?”

At this point, both Kat and I have pushed the curtains aside and are eagerly watching to see if there are any buyers. Even
I’m
biting my nails. Come on, come on.

A paddle goes up from Ms. Hayward.

“Five hundred dollars to the math teacher in the front row. Do I see seven hundred? Come on, people, it’s for a good cause!”

Wow, go, Ms. H! Who knew she was a fashionista? You so wouldn’t be able to tell from her boring gray pants and sweaters.

Amy Koppela raises her paddle. So nice of her to show up.

Then Ms. Hayward raises hers again.

London Zeal raises her paddle. Boo!

“One thousand three hundred dollars,” Jeffrey says. “Do I see fifteen hundred?”