Rogelia's House of Magic (9 page)

Fern stared at the bear claw. “That is so cool. I think it’s so important to keep a strong connection with the animals and earth.”

“Like the Sierra Club?” Tristán asked, nodding at her shirt.

Fern looked down at her T-shirt and laughed. “Yeah, I’m a fanatical tree hugger. Right now I’m part of a team fighting the developers who want to build homes on the Bolsa Chica wetlands.”

“Hey, Uncle Jimi is involved with that. The Tongva had a village there years ago,” Tristán said.

“That’s where they found those thousands-of-years-old cogs,” Fern added fervently. “They still haven’t figured out what they were used for….” Fern trailed off because Tristán was smiling at her. “What?” she asked.

“It’s just really cool to hear someone else be so dedicated to helping our causes.” Tristán took a small bundle of dried sage leaves out of a woven basket. “Here.” He handed it to Fern. She stared at his outstretched hand, which glowed yellow from his aura.

“Thanks,” Fern whispered. She stared down at the gift and ran her finger over the soft leaves. She looked up at Tristán, and a thrill rushed through her when she thought of how much they had in common.

“Fern, did you find the oil yet?” Marina asked as she and Xochitl joined them. In her arms, Marina held a roll of charcoal, an abalone shell, several white taper candles, a packet of copal resin, and a few tumbled semiprecious stones.

“I hear there’s a meeting next Friday at Bolsa Chica.” Tristán handed Fern the almond oil. “Maybe I’ll see you there.” He sauntered over to the cash register.

Marina raised her eyebrows at Fern and walked over to place her items on the counter, then dug through her purse for her wallet. Fern reached into her back pocket and handed Marina a crumpled five-dollar bill.

Tristán looked up from ringing up the sales to glance at Fern. He smiled shyly at her. Without smiling back, Fern studied Tristán, looking around his head for his aura. He seemed to grow nervous under her scrutiny. Suddenly, the yellow light around Tristán faded, then darkened and became more like the gray cloud Fern had seen before.

I knew it,
Fern thought.
It was just too good to be true.

Ten

A
week later, Xochitl sat at the kitchen table on a Thursday morning, looking around the empty room. The quiet seemed unbearable. She missed family breakfasts in Mexico. She missed the smell of frying
nopales,
the sound of her brothers fighting, and the task of braiding her sister Amelia’s hair. But most of all, she missed Graciela. When her father had earned enough money for their passage, the rest of the family would move to California, but Graciela would never return. All she had in this foreign place was Nana and Papá.

The phone rang on the kitchen wall, directly above Xochitl’s head, shocking her back to reality. Xochitl picked it up. “Hello?”

“I can’t wait for Rogelia’s next lesson!”

“Fern?” Xochitl asked, trying to get her bearings.

“Yeah. Listen, Xochitl,” Fern began. “We want to do another spell. We’ve got enough stuff. I already talked with Marina. She’s all set to do the ceremony at my house tonight. My parents will be out dancing for a while. Do you think you can sleep over?”

Xochitl looked out the kitchen window to the backyard. The fear that Marina and Fern were more interested in
curanderismo
and spells than they were in being friends raised its ugly head once more. Why were the girls so excited about spells? “I don’t know,” Xochitl said reluctantly.

“Come on, Xochitl,” Fern begged. “It wouldn’t be the same without you there. We need your expertise.”

Xochitl rolled her eyes. It was obvious Fern and Marina didn’t understand how bizarre and superstitious
curandera
magic from Jalisco, Mexico, could be. At least the kind her nana practiced had its share of different ideas.

Fern and Marina probably think magic is all hocus-pocus, swishing wands, and getting someone to fall in love with you,
Xochitl mused. No, magic from Mexico was much more serious than that. It wasn’t about tricks or bending someone’s will. It required faith—something she currently lacked—and dedication to observing nature.

“Please say you’ll come, Xochitl,” Fern implored.

“I’ve got to…,” Xochitl began, but there was nothing she could even think of to lie about. All she had to do today was sit around by herself and be sad.

“Xochitl, I know you’re all alone there. Your nana is at the Peraltas’ until tomorrow night, and your dad’s got to be working. Don’t mope by yourself. We want you with us.”

Xochitl looked around the deserted kitchen. Going to Fern’s would be a distraction….

“Please say you’ll come,” Fern begged.

“Okay,” Xochitl agreed. Moments later she hung up the phone, wondering if she had done the right thing.

As the day wore on, Xochitl began to feel very nervous about another sleepover and casting a spell. She didn’t want to be doing magic of any kind. It had failed her. Around five o’clock, she decided to call Fern and tell her she had a stomachache, but before she could pick up the phone, there was a knock at the door. When Xochitl opened it, she found Fern and Marina standing on her porch.

“I had an intuition that you might back out, so we came to get you,” Fern said, smiling broadly.

Xochitl couldn’t help returning Fern’s smile. “All right,” she relented. “Let me get my things.”

Once they were all settled in Fern’s bedroom that evening, they decided they would do the spell at midnight. Xochitl stared at the mural on Fern’s wall.

Fern followed Xochitl’s gaze. “Do you like it? When I got home from my last visit to Colombia, I stuck that burlap coffee sack up there.” Fern pointed to the decoupaged, blown-up pictures of her and a man pouring beans into the sack. “That’s Uncle Carlos. He’s a barista and grows the best coffee in Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, Colombia. He has seven kids, and I ran absolutely wild with them when we visited my dad’s family. My aunt Ibis reminds me of your nana.”

Oh great,
thought Xochitl.
Now all they’ll talk about is magic.

“I’m really enjoying hanging around your nana,” Marina said. “She’s taught me a lot.”

“I’m beginning to think I can see more colors in auras now because of her,” Fern said. “I saw another aura around Tristán when we were in Four Crows. I think it’s weird that it would change color and that I would only see it around Tristán. I looked and couldn’t see anything around either of you. Do you think some people don’t have auras?”

“No, Nana said auras are around all living things,” Xochitl answered before she could stop herself. If she was so adamant about not discussing magic, she scolded herself, why was she contributing to the conversation?

Marina scratched her bare leg. “Hey, maybe your ability to see auras comes and goes.”

“Yeah, Rogelia said something like that,” Fern conceded. “Maybe with time and more lessons, I’ll see them around other people.”

“So you’ve got your magical powers,” Xochitl said. “Why do we need to do another spell?”

“It’s kinda cool,” Marina said.

“It’s not as if you’ve never done this before,” Fern chided.

“Mexican magic is different,” Xochitl muttered. She sat on a cushion in front of the bay window in Fern’s room, clutching an orange polka-dotted pillow under her chin.

Xochitl wondered what would happen if she tried to disappear. Could she slip out of Fern’s house unnoticed? Maybe she should have disappeared when she heard them knock on her door. Too late for that, but she could still go invisible now. Xochitl closed her eyes, slowed her breath, and focused her attention on the spot just above her belly button, the place her nana called the solar plexus. She imagined pure invisible light taking over her physical form, almost like it would erase her fingers, her hands, then her arms. She began to feel the floaty sensation that always preceded her disappearances.

Just then, Xochitl felt a hand clutch her arm just above her elbow. Awareness flooded her body, and she felt the heaviness of the earth plane. Her eyes flew open.

“Promise not to vanish”—Fern held tight to Xochitl—“and I’ll let go.”

“What makes you think I was going to?” Xochitl asked.

“Just a hunch,” Fern replied as she let go of Xochitl and walked over to her bed. She flopped on her tummy facing her friends.

“Can you really disappear?” Marina asked.

“Yes, when I want,” Xochitl said sulkily.

Marina whistled, impressed. “Do you want to right now?”

What could she say?
You are taking this magic thing all wrong. It doesn’t fix problems, not the ones that matter, anyway. Not only that, but I’m totally out of my element here and my head is spinning and yes, I would love to disappear right now.
But Marina and Fern had been so nice, she couldn’t bring herself to say these things, which she was sure would hurt their feelings.

“I can’t imagine what it must be like to be in your shoes,” Marina said, breaking the awkward pause. She pushed herself on a swing chair that was bolted to the ceiling.

“So let’s do a little magic to improve our situation,” Fern suggested.

“Magic isn’t a cure-all,” Xochitl said.

“No, but it can help you create a life of your choosing,” Fern said firmly.

“Where did you hear that?” Marina asked while toying with the fringes of a throw pillow.

“Read it in our spell book,” Fern said as she thumbed through
Magik for Teens.
“Xochitl, are we closer to a full or dark moon?”

“The moon will be full on Monday.”

Xochitl’s village in Mexico didn’t have many night lights, so the stars and moon shone bright. It was second nature for her to know the moon’s cycle and whether the moon was getting larger or smaller. She could also have told Marina which constellations were out at this time of year and the Aztec myths regarding their origins. But she wasn’t about to open that can of pinto beans. She didn’t want to hurt her new friends, but the idea of their proximity to her heart made her feel a little crowded and overstimulated, like waking up to a ten-person mariachi band playing in your bedroom.

Fern flipped through the spell book for a moment, then reported, “Okay, a waxing moon, getting bigger, is the perfect time to ask for things you want.”

“I want a good hair day,” Marina announced.

“You always have a good hair day, with your Pantene-perfect straight and shiny hair,” Fern joked.

Marina made a wounded face at Fern. “No more jealousy. I like your curls.”

“Thanks. But let’s make another wish or two or three,” Fern said.

“I want my mom to get off my back,” Marina said. “She’s got a new rant now.”

“What is it?” Fern asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Marina said coolly.

“Fine,” Fern sighed. “I want to fall in love, just a little bit.”

“You already are in love. With Tristán.” Marina whomped Fern with the throw pillow.

“Am not!” Fern shrieked.

“I think you would make a good couple,” Xochitl said quietly.

Fern blushed, then changed the subject. “Oh, and I want to save the Bolsa Chica wetlands from being developed.”

“You’re such a good person,” Marina jibed. “When I grow up I want to be just like you.”

Fern threw the pillow to Xochitl. “Hit her for me.”

Xochitl threw the pillow at Marina. Marina caught the pillow in midair and tossed it back to Xochitl. “What do you want?”

Xochitl looked back and forth between Fern and Marina. She hugged the pillow and then lowered her eyes. “I want my sister back.”

“Oh, Xochitl.” Fern jumped up from her bed and put her arm around Xochitl’s shoulder.

“Nana always says you can’t go back in time.” Xochitl blinked a tear away. “Let me see the book.”

Marina handed the book to Xochitl. She opened it at random to the page about summoning the spirit of a loved one. Of course. Speaking to Graciela was what Xochitl wanted more than anything. She glanced at the spell’s ingredients and quickly committed them to memory. She might as well try it. After all, spells from this book had worked for Marina and Fern. But this spell would have to be done in private and wasn’t something she was ready to share with Fern or Marina. Xochitl’s neighbor Mrs. Benitez had asked her to walk her pampered poodles a few days ago. With the money she earned, she could buy the ingredients she needed to cast the spell to speak with Graciela.

Scanning the book’s pages, Xochitl wracked her brain to think of something normal, something fun and lighthearted to wish for. She looked up from the book. She saw Marina’s walk-in closet with clothes spilling out of it. “I want new clothes,” she announced confidently. It was a vague and remote desire, something she and Graciela had both dreamed about. When Xochitl had journeyed to America, she had brought only as many clothes as she could carry in a very small suitcase. Nana had picked up a few things for her from garage sales. All her clothes were practical and completely lacked style.

When the magical midnight hour struck, Fern drew the circle. Quietly, almost as if she didn’t want to, Xochitl called in the four directions. Marina led the meditation. Fern rubbed oil on four white candles so roughly, she nearly broke one candle.

Xochitl watched the ceremony unfold like something out of a dream. Marina and Fern seemed almost greedy as they asked for their multiple desires. Xochitl didn’t often do rituals like this. The spiritual work or magic she and Nana created was designed for a specific need, usually for a healing of some sort, not for a slew of wants.

Later that night, Xochitl slept fretfully, imagining all sorts of unformed nightmares. She hadn’t exactly been taught that their ceremony tonight was wrong. But instinctively, it hadn’t felt right.

The next morning, low, dark clouds crept along the horizon, threatening a rare summer storm. Xochitl, Fern, and Marina sat around the pine kitchen table while Fern’s mom served them pancakes with real maple syrup. Fern’s mother had the kind of flawless, sculpted face that looked good even without makeup. She was dressed in an elegant crepe blouse and jeans with bejeweled appliqués that made her legs look long and trim.

“You were up late last night,” Fern said critically to her mother.

Fern’s mother ruffled the top of her daughter’s curly hair. “This is why I’m so lucky to have such an independent daughter. I never worry about my girl.”