The Fairytale Curse (Magic's Return Book 1) (21 page)

Sona came in with an armful of library books, so I stopped listening. Zac was with her, and they were chatting animatedly—for once, about something other than robotics. Well, Sona was chatting at least. Zac was more listening.

For a moment I felt hurt that he’d gone to the library with Sona instead of walking with me to the study.
Don’t be an idiot, Vi. He’s known Sona forever. He’s not going to stop being friends with her just because he likes you
. Not that I would want him to. And it wasn’t as if we were even going out.

“We just ran into Miss Moore,” said Sona, dumping her books next to my bag with a thud that rocked the table. “You should see the heels she’s wearing today. They are to
die
for.”

“Beats me how she walks in those things,” Zac said.

“Walk shmalk,” said Sona. “Who cares about walking when you look so fabulous? And guess what?”

“What?” I asked, trying my best to look interested in Miss Moore’s footwear. I didn’t do a great job, but Sona didn’t seem to care.

“We asked her if she was coming tomorrow night and she said yes, so we asked her to sit at our table!”

“Really?” I could see how Zac might find that exciting—the woman was a bombshell, after all, and I hadn’t forgotten how weird the boys had all acted in Ancient History yesterday—but Sona’s enthusiasm was a little strange. “But we hardly know her.”

“So? I bet she wears something amaaazing. She’ll be the coolest teacher there. Did you want to get stuck on a table with Mr Ormond?”

“I guess when you put it like that …” Sitting through three courses with Mr Ormond would be an ordeal. Or my physics teacher—that would be worse. Lovely man, but duller than watching paint dry. Miss Moore might be a tad on the bloodthirsty side but at least she had personality. I just wasn’t sure I liked that personality. Something about her made me feel uncomfortable. She was too intense, too fierce, too … something.

“How are you and CJ getting there? Are your bodyguards taking you?”

“They’re not bodyguards.” I don’t know why I bothered—she insisted on calling them that whatever I said, seemed to think it was a great joke. “And no, they’re not. We’re not supposed to be going at all, remember? CJ’s going with Josh and his mates.”

I wasn’t entirely sure how we were going to shake the “bodyguards”. CJ reckoned she had it under control, but I didn’t find that as comforting as she obviously meant it to be.

“What about you?” Zac asked. “Do you need a lift?”

“You could come with me but my parents would grill you on your entire life history the whole way there,” Sona said. “They’re pretty keen to check you out.”

“Gosh, sign me up.”

“I can give you a ride if you like,” Zac said.

“Ooh! Are you asking her to the formal with you?”

“Shut up, Sona!” I could feel my cheeks heating, the traitors. If only I had skin like Sona’s it wouldn’t be so horrendously obvious every time I blushed. “He didn’t mean it like that.”

He was sitting on the desk top next to me, feet on a chair. I could smell his deodorant, something pine-scented and manly. Or maybe it was aftershave. His cheeks were a little pink too.

“Look at you two—you’re blushing! That’s so cute.” Sona looked from one to the other of us, grinning, and started to sing. “Zac and Viiii, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

I turned my back on her, aware that my face was blazing red, trying to act as if this wasn’t the most awkward thing that had happened to me since frogs started falling out of my mouth—which is harder than you’d think when your face is lit up like Rudolph’s nose on Christmas Eve.

“Ignore the madwoman in the corner,” I said to Zac. He smiled and the dimple peeped out. For some reason that made me flush even redder. Bloody Sona. “I’d love a lift.”

“Okay. I’ll pick you up around quarter to seven.”

He didn’t say that he
had
meant it like that—but then he didn’t say he hadn’t, either. Thank
God
the bell rang then, because I didn’t know where to look and I could cheerfully have throttled Sona, who was still humming that stupid song. We all funneled out into the courtyard amid the usual roar of voices and noisy feet on the stairs.

Mr Ormond and Miss Moore came out of the English staffroom and saw us. Mr Ormond called CJ over so I hung around, wondering what he wanted.

“Crystal! I have a job for you.”

CJ smiled politely. “What’s that, sir?”

“It’s customary for a Year 11 student to make a toast to the outgoing prefect body at the formal. Miss Moore suggested it might be nice this year to have one of our newest students make the toast to our oldest.”

Miss Moore smiled as if she’d done CJ a great favour. Today she wore a red silk top and tailored black pants. The heels were as impressive as Sona had said—towering strappy things with a touch of bling.

“Vi’s a good public speaker.”

Nice one, CJ. Trying to drop me in it. I melted back behind a pillar, but Mr Ormond didn’t even look my way.

“I’m sure you’ll do a great job. We only want something short. Besides, I hear you have a special connection with a certain member of the prefect body.”

He gave her an arch smile, and I nearly gagged. If even Mr Ormond had heard about CJ and the caveman, the whole school must know.

“Glad he didn’t ask me,” Sona said as she dragged me up the stairs. “I hate public speaking.”

I grinned. “So does CJ.”

I came out of my bedroom and nearly choked on the clouds of hairspray and perfume coming from CJ’s.

“What are you
doing
in there? Should I call for toxic waste disposal?”

“Bite me.”

She was leaning in close to the mirror, making that weird stretchy face that women everywhere do when they put on mascara. Her long black hair rippled down her back in mega curls, but she made it look hot instead of cutesy. It had a tousled kind of
I’ve just got out of the sack in my skimpy nightwear
vibe, an impression that the smoky eye shadow only added to. Her dress was a simple strapless cream sheath that made her tanned skin glow golden. She looked fantastic.

“Nice dress.”

“Thanks.” She finished with the mascara and turned to check me out. “You look good too. Is that Sona’s dress?”

“Yeah.”

She assessed me with a critical sisterly eye. “The colour’s good on you. Pity it wasn’t strapless.”

I rolled my eyes. Why did everyone go on about the straps? “Well, we don’t all have your assets to hold our dresses up.”

She grinned and adjusted those assets in the mirror, letting even more cleavage show. Josh was going to have a heart attack when he saw her. Outside a car pulled up and I peeked out the window.

“It’s okay. It was someone next door.”

“You’re not still worried about Kyle, are you? Relax. He’s not coming back.”

Poor Kyle. He’d received a phone call half an hour ago from Warder Winters giving him the rest of the night off. She’d said she was on the way home and there was no need for him to stay with the girls any longer.

Only of course it wasn’t Warder Winters at all, but CJ doing her Mum impression. He hadn’t suspected a thing, and two minutes later we had the house to ourselves and were racing upstairs to get ready. I was torn between guilt and excitement, though for now the excitement was winning. Zac would be here soon, and I was wearing that gorgeous green dress.

“I hope he doesn’t get into trouble. What if Mum really does ring him? Or if he mentions something about having the night off to someone tomorrow?”

CJ snorted. Tomorrow was a problem for Future CJ. Present CJ rarely let consequences get in the way of a good time.

“What if you stopped worrying about things that might never happen and just focused on enjoying yourself?”

Before I could think of a smart answer the doorbell rang and she pushed past me. I heard Josh’s voice then the slam of the front door as she yelled goodbye. I eased a finger under my collar as I followed her downstairs more slowly. CJ had partially camoufluaged hers with a chunky gold necklace, but I hadn’t bothered trying. It was so in-your-face there was no real way to disguise it. I was grateful for its powers, but tonight more than ever I wished it was just a teensy bit more attractive. And maybe had slightly fewer pointy bits.

In a few moments the doorbell rang again. I checked the clock: 6:45 exactly. Zac was right on time.

“Hi!” My heart did a little flip at the sight of him. It was like my perfect man had stepped out of my dreams and landed on my doorstop. “Wow, you look … different.”

In a suit he looked about five years older and ten times hotter. I could hardly believe the transformation. He’d even gelled his hair so it didn’t flop into his face the way it usually did.

“Different in a good way, I hope. You look amazing, by the way.”

“Thanks.” I did a little twirl to show him the whole effect. “You like the dress? Sona gave it to me.”

“It’s beautiful. You look really pretty.” He bowed and offered his arm. “May I escort madam to her chariot?”

I smiled up at him, dazzled by that sweet dimpled smile and the admiration in his eyes. I laid my hand on his arm and we paraded down the path like royalty. He was taller than me—hell, everyone was taller than me—but in high heels the difference wasn’t too ridiculous, and I felt very grown-up and glamorous. My heart danced a quick little cha-cha inside my chest.

He held the car door open for me, then came around and got behind the wheel.

“Not that I’m not grateful for the ride, but the chariot seems to have shrunk since last time.” He was driving a little red Mazda, not the big sedan he’d driven us home from the party in.

“Yeah, this is Mum’s car. Mum and Dad are using the Commodore tonight.” He smiled across at me as he pulled out from the kerb. “It gets tricky sometimes, with three of us driving and two cars. I’m saving up for my own—hopefully I’ll have enough to get something early next year.”

“Cool. What do you do for a job?”

“I teach guitar. It pays a hell of a lot better than working at Maccas, and I can more or less set my own hours.”

“I didn’t know you played guitar! You must be pretty good if you’re teaching it.”

“I’m not too bad. I’ve been playing since I was a kid. Most of my students are beginners, though, so it’s not all that challenging.”

“Electric guitar or classical?”

“Classical mainly. I play electric sometimes, but I prefer classical.”

“Wow. I never would have picked you for the musical type. You don’t even do music as a subject, do you?”

“Nah. I get enough of it outside of school.” He grinned. “I guess there’s lots of things you don’t know about me.”

“Okay,” I said, taking that as a challenge, “what’s your favourite food?”

“Aaah … nachos? I don’t know. My mum’s corned beef pie? I can’t pick just one. What’s yours?”

“Chocolate.”

“Oh, I thought we were talking real food, not junk.”

“Chocolate’s a real food. It’s one of the five essential food groups.”

He laughed. “They must do things differently in Townsville.”

I loved that I could make him laugh. It was kind of cozy, just the two of us in the car. “What about sports? What do you like?”

“To watch or play?”

“Play.”

“Well, I used to like basketball, but they only take the really tall guys for the team these days. Cricket’s all right, but baseball’s better.”

“What about winter sports? Soccer or footie?”

He pulled a face. “I’m crap at both. All right, my turn. What’s your favourite book?”

“Oh, that’s a hard one. Maybe
The Lord of the Rings
?”

“Seriously? I tried to read that but I couldn’t stand all the poetry. The movies were better.”

“Well, they did have Viggo Mortenson. And no Tom Bombadil. Do you read much fantasy?”

“Sometimes. I’m more of a science fiction guy. Space battles and alien planets and stuff.”

The little Mazda turned in at the gates of a reception centre that looked more like a small castle.

“Oh, wow, this is beautiful.”

“I know. Can you believe this used to be someone’s home?”

I shook my head. “It’d be nice to be rich, huh?”

“Maybe some day I’ll know. I’ll have to invent something that makes me millions.”

“Good plan. Keep working on the demented chicken.”

He found a spot and parked the car. We’d talked all the way here, about all sorts of trivial things, but never mentioned the one thing everyone else in the world was discussing. Magic. He didn’t even ask about the infamous video. He had a way of focusing on what I was saying that made me feel as if I was the most interesting person he’d ever met, unlike most guys, who listened as if they were waiting for you to stop talking so they could talk about themselves. Cough, cough, Josh Johnson. I felt absurdly grateful for the chance to laugh and chat and act as if everything was normal, as if my life hadn’t been overtaken by magic and weirdness.

I could easily fall in love with a guy like that.

He came around and opened my door, still playing the gentleman. I got out, smoothing the emerald folds of my dress, and admired the building and its lovely gardens. Even from the carpark, at the back, it was impressive. People in formal dress were chatting on a large terrace, and music wafted across the carpark. It sounded like Vivaldi. Pretty upmarket for a school formal. Hopefully there’d be dance music later.

We crunched together across the gravel and around to the front of the building, where a long white limousine was sweeping in around the circular driveway. More partygoers arriving in style.

“What’s your favourite colour?” I asked, watching girls in all the colours of the rainbow spilling from the car.

“Normally I’d say red.” He looked down at me, something serious in his eyes. “But tonight … it’s green.”

My heart started to race.

“Very smooth!” I joked, to cover my sudden nerves. “I like your style. Dance with me later?”

He laughed, and the moment passed. “I thought you knew about my dancing.”

“I’m prepared to take the risk. Maybe I could ask the DJ to play YMCA.”

“You are never going to let me forget that, are you?”