Bewitching (35 page)

But he didn’t even pick up, just his voice mail. I listened to that before hanging up.

I missed him.

4

So I spent the next week reliving every kiss, every touch Warner and I had shared, second-guessing whether he’d been hating me all along. Now, even my memories of him were ruined. And no, it didn’t really help to know that Lisette was suffering too. I wondered if my suffering made her feel better about her life. Probably not.

I thought he’d loved me and dumped me based on a misunderstanding. If he just dumped me because he met someone prettier, he wasn’t who I thought he was. It was all a lie.

I didn’t want to go to school and face Warner. But I didn’t want to stay home with Mother either.

Mother was ridiculously happy. This party put her into overdrive, and she spent hours poring over fashion magazines, showing me pictures of anorexic models wearing clothes on Nordstrom’s website or in the pages of
Vogue
. She bought me outfits to try on, dozens of them, all for skinny boobless girls. I’d have the perfect one, even if it cost a thousand dollars.

“Couldn’t we give the money to Haitian orphans instead?” I asked when she shoved yet another photo under my nose.

“You were always such a downer, Emma. Can’t you see what an opportunity this party is? If Travis Beecher likes you, he might—”

“Might what? Marry me? I’m sixteen. Besides, he’s a movie star. There will be hundreds of flashier-looking girls there. He’ll pick one of them.”

“But you have things they don’t have. Intelligence. A quick wit.”

Wit? Still, it was interesting to know she even noticed something like that, considering she spent her days griping about my looks. Nice to know she appreciated my brain.

“I’m just asking you to try. Do you think it’s been easy for me, seeing you being passed over for things, being dumped on by those mean girls who don’t understand how special you are? This would show them all.”

Unbelievable. My mother actually sort of understood.

And then, she wrecked our little moment.

Wait for it.

“If you went on Slim-Fast, I could buy this in a size three.”

Doubtful, considering I wore a seven, but I said, “I should probably try it on first.”

“Terrific. Let’s go to the mall.”

I actually didn’t mind. At least shopping took my thoughts off Warner for an hour or two. Every day at school, I had to watch them, strolling hand and hand in the halls. I used to try to decide if he seemed happy. Now, after what Lisette had said, I couldn’t even look at him.

One day, at lunch, I asked Kendra, “Can you tell what people are thinking?”

“Like read minds like Professor Snape in Harry Potter? No one can do that.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t believe my best—and only—friend was a witch and there wasn’t a single thing she could do to help me get my boyfriend back.

But she said, “Oh!” and pulled something from her backpack. “There is one thing I can do.” She held up an object.

It was a silver mirror, old-fashioned and ornate with a border of silver roses. “I just got this back from a friend in New York. Look at it.”

I did. I was shocked at how bad my complexion looked. It had been my greatest asset, but now I had three big zits already out and two more breaking below the surface. Mother had made appointments for facials, hairstylists, and makeup artists before the party. They’d probably charge extra when they saw me. “Blech. What is this, a mirror that makes you look worse?”

“No, unfortunately, that’s your skin. I can fix it, but you really need to get a good night’s sleep and lay off the Doritos.”

She laid her hand on my cheek. When she removed it, my complexion was clear again.

Amazing. “Thanks. Now, what’s the deal with the mirror?”

“With it, you can see anyone, anywhere.”

“Right.”

“No, it’s true. Pick someone.”

I thought a second, trying to come up with a name other than Warner’s. “Tayloe.”

In an instant, the image in the mirror changed from my own face to a girl who may have been Tayloe. Except I couldn’t see her face because she was crouched over a toilet in the girls’ room. She stuck her finger down her throat.

“Ick. Is that really her?” Tayloe had been the only one who was sort of nice. Ish.

Kendra nodded. “Someone should tell her mother. Maybe an anonymous note.” She stared into the distance a moment. “Done! Want to choose someone else? The president, maybe?”

“Oh, I don’t…” But curiosity got the better of me. “Sure. Why not?”

I asked, and the picture switched to the president. He was somewhere, behind a stage, like he was waiting to give a speech. Surrounded by advisors, he riffled through papers. He actually looked nervous.

“So…” I said, putting it all together. “I could watch Lisette and Warner together when they don’t know I’m watching, see if they’re really happy, really in love.”

“You could. But, remember, it might hurt you, seeing them together.”

I looked in the mirror at the now-smiling president. “It couldn’t hurt more than now.”

“Don’t be too sure. Magic isn’t always a good idea. Plenty have seen what they wish they hadn’t in this mirror, found out that their friends didn’t really care about them, for example.”

“Has it worked out for anyone?”

She smiled, and I knew the answer.

I said, “I need to know. They have a date tomorrow night.” Kendra nodded. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. I’m not really expecting anything. I just want to know the truth.”

She put the mirror in her bag. “You will.”

5

Friday night, Kendra came over at six. I’d heard Lisette tell Warner on the phone (loudly, for my benefit) to pick her up at six-thirty for a seven-thirty movie.

In my room, Kendra showed me how the mirror worked. “It’s like watching TV. You see everything that happens. If you want to see closeups of Warner, ask to watch him. If you want to see Lisette, watch her.”

“Got it.” It was six-twenty, and I said, “Show me Warner.”

The mirror zeroed in on him like it was Google Earth. He was in his car, driving. It was the closest I’d seen him since we broke up, and I was surprised how tired he looked. He flipped through the selections on his iPod. He stopped on “Don’t Blame the Moonlight” by Kim Mortal. It had been one of our favorite songs, and we’d planned on going to the concert. He switched with a grimace.

“Terrific,” I said to Kendra. “He hates me so much, he’s taking it out on Kim Mortal?”

“If you’re going to be that sensitive, you shouldn’t watch.”

“It’s okay.”

He pulled in front of our house, checking his watch. It was right before six-thirty. Warner was always on time. We agreed that punctuality was important. It showed respect for the other person. Downstairs, I heard the shower running. It must have been Lisette. Warner stepped out of the car, checking his watch again, then walked to the door. Before he got there, he stopped. Something had caught his eye. My tree house. He glanced up at it. I wondered if he was sorry he’d rebuilt it for me. I hadn’t been up in it since our breakup. It was too painful, remembering how that was where he’d first said he loved me. He stood, staring at it, then ran his hand against the ladder, admiring his handiwork. He checked his watch again. Six-thirty.

The shower was still running. Warner walked to the door and rang the doorbell. I jumped a little at hearing it ring in person and in the mirror too, sort of like that horror story about the old lady who realizes the puzzle she’s putting together is of her own room. I jumped.

A minute passed. Then two. No one answered the door. The water finally stopped, but the hair dryer was running. Was Lisette just going to make Warner stand there? Did she expect me to get it?

Warner glanced at his watch again, then rang the bell a second time.

“Should I get it?” I asked Kendra.

“Do you want to?”

Yes! Yes!
I wanted to see him again, be alone with him for just one minute. But maybe I didn’t. What if he recoiled at seeing me? What if he told me again how much he hated me? What if he was mean?

“Let him think you’re out too,” Kendra said. “At least, that’s what I’d do. Of course, what do I know?”

“No, you’re right.” I watched as Warner picked up his phone and dialed a number.

Our phone rang.

I thrilled—briefly—at the idea that he was calling me. He wanted to talk to me. No. He was calling Lisette to find out where she was. Had he been calling me, he’d have called my cell. I let it ring, even though I really wanted to answer it. I wouldn’t have kept him waiting like this.

Downstairs, the hair dryer finally stopped. Warner glanced at his watch. Six-forty. He looked at the tree house again. He turned, as if to leave, then rang the doorbell once more.

This time, Lisette heard. She yelled, “Just a sec!”

Warner checked his watch again. I could see the annoyance on his face. At least, I hoped I could. I wanted him to hate her, regret that he was with her, despite her beauty.

But in another ten minutes when she finally opened the door, I could see him appreciating her. He’d never looked at me like that. People would forgive a lot if you looked like Lisette.

Only when he got in the car did he say, “I hope we can still get tickets.”

Lisette shrugged. “You should have bought them online.”

“I didn’t know we’d be this late.”

“Hey, you don’t get to look this good by rushing. Maybe
Emma
would have been ready on time, but I’m not a slob.”

“Let’s leave Emma out of this.”

“Gladly.” She reached over and started massaging his neck. “I’m sure we’ll get in. I usually get what I want.”

“I don’t think that works on ticket machines.”

Sure enough, when they got to the Falls, the movie Lisette wanted, a romantic comedy I’d seen the week before with Mother, was sold out. “Guess we’ll have to see something else,” Warner said.

“Okay.” Lisette studied the timetable. “
I’ll Kill You Later
starts at seven-thirty.”

Warner bought the tickets, and they walked through the crowds to the ticket taker. “Theater four,” the guy said, “first door on the left.”

Lisette thanked him, then strolled right past theater four to theater seven.

“Hey, Lisette!” Warner yelled. “Lisette, it’s here!”

“No, it’s not.” Lisette breezed through the crowd. I saw what she was doing, going into the theater with the movie she wanted to see, even though they didn’t have tickets.

Warner caught up with her. “If we go here, there won’t be seats for someone who actually bought tickets for that movie.”

“So?”

“So, it’s not fair.”

She gestured at him to be quiet. “Life’s not fair. It’s not fair that my parents are both dead, and I have to live with your ex-girlfriend and her mother either. Now, are you with me or not?”

Warner sighed. “I guess.”

“Actually, I’ll go find seats. You buy popcorn, okay?”

“Fine.”

So I got to watch Warner stand in the popcorn line for twenty minutes.

The movie, which I’d seen before, was super-dumb. It was about a pretty blond actress who, for reasons that weren’t explained, was kidnapped by a fan. Because this was fantasyland, they fell in love, even though the guy had already tied her up and put her in the trunk of his car.

Because women are just
that
stupid.

“I can probably fix it so you can see the screen,” Kendra said.

“It’s okay. The movie was completely degrading.”

Had I seen the movie with Warner, we’d have made fun of it the whole time. Lisette and Warner held hands and kissed. I tried not to cry.

After the obligatory chase scene (where the heroine realizes she loves the kidnapping dirtbag and has to stop the police from taking him away), the movie ended.

“Thanks for taking me,” Lisette said. “You’ll be rewarded.”

I turned the mirror away so as not to see Warner’s reaction.

Next, they waited an hour to get into P.F. Chang’s.

“Maybe we should go someplace else,” Warner suggested.

“I like to be where the action is,” Lisette said. “Don’t you want to be seen with me?”