Don't Drink the Punch! (2 page)

CHAPTER 2

Kayla jumped up. “Oh!” she gasped. “You're alive!”

The cat fumbled against the snowbank and tried to sit up.

“I need to get you out of the street,” said Kayla. Luckily, it was a quiet street. Not a single car had passed since the one that had knocked down the cat.

The cat managed to sit up. It shook its head rapidly back and forth, as though trying to shake out the cobwebs.

“Can you walk, kitty?” asked Kayla.

As though it had understood, the cat rose shakily onto its feet. It took a tentative step and collapsed nose-down in the snow. It let out a low growl.

“It's your front leg, isn't it?” guessed Kayla.

The cat sat down on its haunches and blinked at Kayla. It raised its right front paw into the air, almost like a dog might offer its paw to shake.

Kayla glanced up again at the shops. No one was emerging. She looked across the street. Practically the whole block was taken up by a restaurant supply store, but it had a sign that said
CLOSED: LOST OUR LEASE
on the door.

“Will you let me carry you?” she asked the cat. She took a step toward it and reached gently underneath it to pick it up. It let out a longer, more ominous growl, but it allowed her to do so. She was careful not to touch its front leg.

It was a large, heavy cat. Kayla held it close to her chest and turned to clamber back over the snowdrift, hoping she wouldn't slip. Her boot sank deeply into the snow, and a chunk of ice slipped into the back of it.

“Let's try the antique store,” she said to the cat, and made her way carefully over to the doorway of the first shop. Crouching awkwardly, she managed to turn the rickety knob without dropping the cat. She pushed the door, hearing a little bell tinkle.

The inside of the store smelled musty, like old leather boots, but at least it was warm. The shelves were crammed with old bottles and dusty china figurines,
and a display case in the middle held cheap costume jewelry. The wares looked more like they should be at a flea market than at an antique store, Kayla thought.

“Help you?” said someone in the back. A large woman emerged from around the back counter, regarding Kayla suspiciously. “We don't allow pets in here,” she said, eyeing the cat over the tops of her glasses.

“Um, hi,” said Kayla. “This isn't my pet. I saw this cat get hit by a car, and I wondered if you might know who it belongs to. It's not dead or anything, but I think its paw is hurt.”

The woman looked again at the cat in Kayla's arms. “Not mine,” she said with a shrug. “And not Betty's next door. She's always complaining about her allergies.”

Kayla drooped. “Well, thanks anyway,” she said, and turned to leave.

“You might try two doors down at that hocus-pocus shop. I never have laid eyes on the owner—he's certainly not a friendly chap—but I seem to recall seeing a cat wandering around outside the store from time to time.”

Kayla nodded. “Okay, thanks,” she said, and opening the chiming door, she stepped back outside into the swirling cold.

The cat was not a cuddly sort of cat. It allowed her to carry it down the short block, but it felt like a dead weight in her arms. They were beginning to ache with holding it.

“I hope this is your owner,” said Kayla as she opened the door to the mystical store. “I need to get back to Alice's house.”

This shop smelled like cinnamon and musky perfume and something Kayla couldn't identify—a faint, acrid smell that reminded her of the time she'd accidentally set a tendril of her hair on fire when she was blowing out her birthday candles.

“Hello?” she called out. “Anyone here?”

She looked around. What kind of store
was
this, anyway? The walls were painted a deep red, so despite the overhead light, the place looked dark and shadowy. A bloodred velvet curtain hung in the doorway to the back, near the register. The walls were lined with shelves from floor to ceiling, and the shelves held neat rows of bottles, each labeled by hand in the same swirly cursive writing. Kayla couldn't make out what any of the labels said from where she was standing. There was one of those sliding wooden ladders she'd seen in old movies, the
kind that could move on a rail so the shop owner could reach things up high. Along the back wall were hand-lettered signs:
SPELL CANDLES: LIGHT ONE TO MANIFEST YOUR INTENTIONS AND DESIRES; HEALING CRYSTALS: HANDPICKED FOR THEIR BEAUTY AND HEALING ENERGY; ELIXIRS: POTIONS INFUSED WITH HERBAL ESSENCES; MAGICAL OILS: AROMATHERAPY OIL BLENDS TO SUPPORT TRANSFORMATION.

Kayla was stooping down to read the label on a bottle (
LOVE POTION: WIN THE PASSION OF THAT SPECIAL SOMEONE!
) when she heard footsteps. She stood up hastily, shifting the cat a bit in her arms. The cat growled in protest.

A girl stood at the other end of the store, regarding her. “May I help you?” she said. “Hey, what are you doing with Jinx?”

“Oh! So this is your cat?” asked Kayla. “He got knocked down. By a car. I think he's okay, but his front leg is hurt.”

The girl frowned and strode across the store. She took the cat from Kayla's arms. Kayla took a small step back and blinked at her.

The girl was about Kayla's age, although a good six inches shorter. She seemed familiar. Wasn't she in Kayla's grade at school? They weren't in any classes together, but
Kayla was sure she'd seen her around. Was it Madeline? Melinda? She wore huge, owlish glasses. Her straight, bluntly cut bangs hid a good part of her face.

“Jinx never goes into the street. Something must have spooked him. What happened?” the girl asked Kayla. She looked up accusingly, her bangs parting like a curtain and revealing a nose that was somewhat too large for her thin face.

“Nothing. I mean, I don't know,” Kayla stammered. “He ran into the road and bumped into the side of a car that was passing by.”

The girl snorted, then carried Jinx over to a glass display table that housed some sparkly stones. She set the cat gently down on the table. It immediately began licking its paw, slowly, as though assessing where it hurt.

“Do you work here?” asked Kayla, looking around.

“It's my after-school and weekend job,” said the girl. Her tone was gruff and unfriendly. “The owner lets me work the register because I'm very responsible.” She leaned over the cat, blowing her bangs away diagonally with the corner of her mouth so as to see more closely, and ran her hand down the animal's back, then down each paw, gently pressing as she went, as carefully as a
trained veterinarian. “Looks like a simple radial fracture,” she muttered, more to herself than to Kayla or the cat.

Suddenly she stood up and wheeled on Kayla.

“He didn't just run into the road, did he? Something scared him. Your dog, maybe?”

“No!” Kayla said quickly. “I mean, maybe. My friend's dog might have . . . might have startled him a little.”

“Get out of here,” the girl said in a low, ominous voice.

CHAPTER 3

Kayla backed away and turned to search for the doorknob. This girl freaked her out. She pulled the door open. Cold wind howled and swirled into the shop, setting several sets of chimes tinkling.

“Wait,” the girl called. The tone of her voice was strained but suddenly friendly.

Kayla shut the door again and turned.

“What's your name?”

“Kayla Evans.”

“I'm Matilda Warner. You go to Fairbridge Middle, don't you?”

Kayla nodded.

“And you're friends with that horrible Alice Grafton and her social-climbing friends, aren't you?”

“I—that's not very—”

“You moved here last year?”

Kayla nodded, wondering how Matilda knew so much about her. She wanted to get out of there. “From Texas.”

“What does your mother do?”

Kayla was perplexed by Matilda's sudden interest in her. But she answered, “My mom got a job at Fairbridge Academy, in the admissions office, so we moved.”

“Oh. No wonder those girls are your friends. No doubt they think your mother can help get them into the academy for high school,” said Matilda.

Kayla felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. She had been trying so hard to make friends in this new town. She didn't want to think that they were just using her.

“What's your dad do?”

Kayla looked down. “He's dead.”

Matilda grunted. “You have brothers and sisters?”

“Yes, three brothers. All younger.”

Another grunt. “So why do you hang out with that clique of horrid rich girls?”

Kayla furrowed her brow. “Well, I, um . . .”

“Never mind, I can see you're just trying to fit in, find your way in that huge middle school. Well, take my advice. Alice Grafton is mean and vain and superficial, and her life revolves around being idolized. She's bad news. And so are her awful friends, Pria Patel and Jess Hunnicut. They follow her around like she's the queen of Sheba.” Matilda sniffed. “Anyway, I suppose I should thank you for helping Jinx. He has a fracture, but the vet can fix it. He should be fine.”

“You're welcome,” said Kayla.

“You seem decent enough. Not like the others.”

Kayla wasn't sure what to say.
Thank you? What?
But she just nodded and put her hand back on the knob. “I have to go now,” she said to Matilda.

“Hey, why don't you bring your friends by the shop sometime?” suggested Matilda.

Kayla blinked. “I thought you said they were awful.”

“I was just kidding. They're great. Bring them by. We have all kinds of elixirs and potions they might be interested in.”

“Like what?” asked Kayla, very confused by Matilda's sudden change in mood. Clearly this Matilda was a strange girl, and Kayla knew she had to hurry to catch
up with her friends before they left for the mall. But her curiosity got the better of her.

“All kinds. Beauty potions, complexion creams, love potions, essential oils that improve your mental processing. You seem pretty smart, but some of your flibbertigibbet friends could use a little help in that department,” said Matilda.

“Um, sure, great, thanks,” said Kayla, wondering what a flibbertigibbet was. “I'll tell them. I hope Jinx feels better soon.”

As she left, she caught a glimpse of Matilda and Jinx through the glass door, staring at her. The light glinted off Matilda's huge glasses, so it was impossible to see her expression, and Jinx's eyes seemed to glow green. As she wrestled to close the door against the gusting wind, Kayla thought she heard something. It sounded like laughter.

She walked as fast as she dared along the icy sidewalk, but the light was fading and the wind kept blowing her coat open, making it hard to see her feet. Left at the corner, two blocks down, and another right, and she
found herself back on Alice's block. It felt like it was a world away from the block she'd come from. The street was much wider, and houses on either side were set far back, with expansive lawns and large, overhanging trees. Alice's house was the biggest one on the block, red brick and three stories tall. Kayla had been there many times—in fact, the girls were sleeping over at Alice's tonight, and Kayla had left her overnight bag there when they went to walk Buttercup.

The lights were all on, but no one answered when she rang the bell. She rang again and waited. She heard Buttercup barking like crazy from inside, and listened for footsteps, but heard nothing. The front door was locked. She headed back down the front stoop and made her way around the side, to the kitchen door. When no one answered her knock, she tried the knob. It was unlocked. She stepped into the brightly lit kitchen. “Hello?” she called. “Anyone here?”

Except for Buttercup, who was now glaring at her from the doorway, growling from deep in his throat, the house was silent.