Jinx (7 page)

Still, while it was true that Zach and I were friends, we weren't good enough friends for us to discuss Tory's crush on him—and
definitely
not good enough friends to let him know where I was headed on the subway that day.

“No, you don't have to come with me,” I said hastily. “Can you just tell me how I would get to Ninth Street between Second and First Avenues?”

But he just shook his head. “Nuh-uh. You're not going all the way down there alone. People call you Jinx for a reason, right? God only knows what kind of disasters you might walk into.”

“But—”

“If you think I'm letting you go to the East Village by yourself, you're nuts.” He took hold of my arm, and swung me around. “For one thing, I still owe you eternal servitude for saving my life, remember? And for another, the subway station's that way, stupid. Let's go.”

There isn't anything in the least romantic about being called stupid. Really. Especially since I knew there was no way Zach would ever be interested in a red-haired, violin-playing preacher's daughter when there was the remotest chance he could have gorgeous, physical-therapist-in-training Petra.

So why did I feel so ridiculously happy, all the way downtown? I had forgotten all about my anger at Tory—and my disgust with myself, for going back on my word, as I knew I was about to do. I hardly noticed the rush-hour hordes into which we threw ourselves as we boarded the train, and didn't pay the least bit of attention to the men who begged for quarters in the car, or the signs warning passengers to watch their wallets, or the cops on the platforms with their bomb-sniffing dogs…all of which might have terrified me—if I hadn't been with Zach.

Oh, let's face it. Sure, he liked another girl. But I was gone anyway. He'd had me at
I like seals.

But when we finally reached East Ninth Street between Second and First Avenues, I realized that Zach really
was
going to think I was stupid—or at least seriously deranged—when he saw the kind of store into which I was headed.

I slowed my pace as we approached it. I could see the sign, cut into the shape of a crescent moon, hanging above a black awning.
ENCHANTMENTS
, it said. What was I going to say when he asked—as he undoubtedly would—why I was going to a store that specialized in…
well…witch paraphernalia?

Zach was telling me about a documentary he'd seen the night before about a team of plastic surgeons who go to Third World countries to perform free corrective surgery on kids with cleft palates and stuff. Zach is very into documentaries. He wants to study film when he gets to NYU, and make documentaries about arctic wildlife, such as seals, and how we are destroying their habitats. He'd even taken me to see his seals—the ones at the Central Park Zoo. He knows all of their names, too, and can tell them apart.

I listened to his summary about the documentary with only half an ear. I was trying to tell myself that Zach wasn't going to care about the store I was going into. Really, I was blowing the whole thing out of proportion. We're friends. Friends don't care what kind of books their friends read. Right?

But, just as I'd suspected would happen, Zach dried up when I stopped in front of the store. It didn't help any that there were crystals and tarot cards in the display window, arranged on a bunch of black velvet. Nor did it help that, as we stood there, the door opened, and two women dressed all in black, their hair dyed the same way Tory's was, came out, carrying paper bags and chattering cheerfully.

“
This
is where you wanted to go?” Zach asked, his dark eyebrows raised. Disapprovingly, just as I'd suspected.

“I…” I had spent most of the walk down Ninth Street concocting a story I hoped would sound convincing. “I have to get something for my little sister—”

“Courtney?” he asked. “Or Sarabeth?”

“Courtney,” I said, trying to ignore a rush of pleasure that he'd remembered my sister's name. Both my sisters' names! I'd only told him a million stories about them. I couldn't believe he'd actually been listening. “Her birthday is coming up, and I thought she'd like this, plus I don't think you can find a book like it in Iowa.”

Wait. Did that sound as lame to him as it did to me?

But all Zach said was, “Ever heard of Barnes and Noble? There's one only a couple blocks away from where we live,” in an amused voice. “We didn't have to come all the way down here, you know.”

“Blessed be,” said the pretty, dark-haired woman behind the counter, as we came into the store.

“Um,” I said, blushing. Because of what Zach must be thinking—that she was a New Age, crunchy-granola type. “Thanks.”

I hurried past the counter, heading blindly for the back, where I'd glimpsed some bookshelves. Still, I couldn't help noticing that the store was crammed with herbs and candles, amulets and lunar calendars. A black cat lay across one shelf, her tail twitching slowly back and forth as she watched me approach. Around her neck was a turquoise collar with a pentacle hanging from it where a bell might have been on a normal, non-witch cat.

I reached for the book I was looking for—not one of the big, glossy-covered ones, filled with photos and chapters called “Love Spells,” which were the kind Tory and her friends might have picked up, but a small, pictureless, paper-bound thing—
not
available at any chain bookstore—and flipped to the back, scanning the index. Zach, meanwhile, was wandering around, picking things up and examining them curiously. When he got to the cat, he stopped and scratched it under the chin. The cat began to purr, so loudly that I could hear it halfway across the store.

So he liked cats, too. Au pairs,
7th Heaven
, seals, kids…and cats. Could this guy possibly get any cuter?

A bell tinkled, and two girls strolled into the store. Two girls wearing Chapman School uniforms. Two girls I, unfortunately, recognized.

The knot in my stomach, which had been visiting less and less lately, suddenly made its presence known.

The pretty saleslady behind the counter said, “Blessed be,” to her two new customers.

And Gretchen and Lindsey said, “Blessed be,” back to her, Lindsey giggling the whole time.

“How old is Courtney turning, anyway?” Zach, appearing from behind a rack of herbs, wanted to know. “Twelve?”

I jumped, and said automatically, “Fourteen.”

I'd stopped scanning the book's index. I'd found what I was looking for.

But how was I going to buy it without Gretchen and
Lindsey noticing me and reporting back to Tory that they'd seen me in Enchantments? Tory was never going to believe I'd just strolled into that particular store by accident.

Or…would she?

“Oh my God,” Lindsey cried, when I deliberately stepped out from behind the herb rack, directly into her path. “Jinx? Is that you?”

“Oh,” I said, pretending to be noticing them for the first time. “Hey, you guys.”

“Look, Gretch,” Lindsey said. “It's Jinx!”

Gretchen, always the more serious of the pair, didn't look exactly overjoyed to see me. In fact, her heavily made-up eyes narrowed, and she said, “What are
you
doing here?” And then the gaze flicked toward something—or someone—behind me, and Gretchen's eyelids narrowed even more. “With
him
?”

“Oh, hey,” Zach said, as he turned from the rack of calendars he'd been looking at.

“Hey,” Lindsey said. She, unlike Gretchen, didn't seem to find it suspicious that she was running into Zach and me in a witch supply store approximately sixty blocks from where we both lived. “Is Tor here, too? I thought she said she had to go to the dentist or something this afternoon….”

“Yeah,” I said, nervously pushing my hair behind my ears. “Yeah, no, Tory's not here. It's just us. We came down because I have to get a gift. A birthday gift. For my little sister.”

“Cool,” Lindsey said. Her gaze fell on the book in my hands, and she wrinkled her nose. “But why are you getting her
that
old thing? This book's much better.” She picked up the big glossy one. “Look. Lots of pictures.”

“This is the one she requested,” I lied. “I don't know. She's kind of weird.”

“Are you saying witches are weird?” Gretchen demanded in her gravelly voice.

“No!” I cried. “Gosh, no. Just my sister.”

“
I
think they're weird,” Zach said cheerfully.

Lindsey reached out to give him a playful smack in the chest. “You better watch it,” she said. “Or I'll put a spell on you.”

“For all you know, Lindsey, maybe somebody else already has,” Gretchen said. But she didn't seem to be referring to Tory, since she was looking straight at me as she said it.

“I wouldn't know anything about that,” I said in as pleasant a voice as I could muster. “Well, found what I needed. Ready to go, Zach?”

“Am I ever,” Zach said.

“Well, see you guys,” I said to Lindsey and Gretchen.

And started for the check-out counter.

“Oh, hey,” Lindsey called after us. “We're gonna go get some bubble tea after this, down in Chinatown. Wanna come?”

“Can't,” I said, laying the book down on the counter. The pretty saleslady picked it up with a smile. “I promised Tory's parents I'd be home in time for dinner.”

“Tory,” Lindsey echoed with a laugh. “Don't let her hear you call her that. She'll kill you!”

“She might kill her anyway,” Gretchen muttered—but loudly enough for me to hear.

My cheeks went crimson. And the knot in my stomach swelled to a balloon.

“What?” Lindsey sounded confused. “What'd you say, Gretch?”

“Me?” Gretchen snorted. “I didn't say anything.”

Zach, who had followed me, leaned down, pretending to admire some necklaces in the glass case beneath the sales counter. “What is she talking about?” he whispered.

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “It's just…girl stuff.”

“Nice,” Zach said, straightening up. “How about I meet you outside?”

“That might be better,” I said.

Zach nodded and left the store, the bells over the door tinkling in his wake.

“That'll be ten dollars,” the woman behind the counter said. I surrendered to her my brand-new fifty.

“I bet Torrance is going to be really interested to know you were in here with her guy,” Gretchen said, her voice hard.

“What?” Lindsey still sounded confused. “Gretchen? What are you talking about?”

“God, Lindsey.” Gretchen flung an aggravated look in her friend's direction. “Can't you see what she's trying to do? She's trying to steal Zach right out from under Torrance's nose!”

“Zach's not Tory's guy,” I burst out—as much to my own surprise as to anyone else's. The saleslady paused counting out my change, looking at me in astonishment.

“What I mean is,” I said in a more modulated tone, “Zach doesn't like Tory or me. He likes Petra, okay? Zach and I are just friends.”

“Right,” Gretchen said, obviously not believing me. Lindsey, standing behind her, just continued to look confused.

“We're just friends,” I said again, taking my change from the saleslady. I hoped Gretchen couldn't see that my hands were shaking. “You can ask him, if you want to.”

“I think I'll ask Torrance,” Gretchen said. “I think that's what I'll do.”

“Fine,” I said. “Do that.”

I took the bag the saleslady was holding out for me, thanked her, and turned away from the counter and toward the door—

And knocked over a display of candles.

“God,” I heard Lindsey say with a giggle, as I stooped to catch as many of the candles as I could before they rolled to the floor. “Walk much?”

“Let me, dear,” the saleslady said, coming around from behind the counter.

“I'm so sorry,” I said, holding an armful of candles out to her. “I'm so clumsy.”

“Nonsense,” the saleslady said kindly. “It could have happened to anyone. Here, put those down.” She helped
me put the candles down on the counter. “There. No harm done. Oh, and take this. You almost forgot it.”

She took something wrapped in a neat square of tissue paper from her skirt pocket, and held it out to me.

“What…?” I reached out automatically and took the paper square. Whatever was inside rattled slightly.

“Just something I think you're going to need soon,” she said, her gaze sliding in Gretchen's and Lindsey's direction. “For luck. Blessings to you, sister.”

My embarrassment was now consummate. I tucked the tissue-wrapped object into the bag with the book, muttered, “Thank you,” and darted from the store…

…and continued down the street as if I were being chased.

“Hey,” Zach called, hurrying up behind me. “Slow down, will ya? The Presidential Fitness Test is over, remember?”

“Sorry,” I said, carefully not looking at him. “Oh, God. I am so embarrassed.”

“Why should you be embarrassed?” He fell into step beside me.

How could he not know? Had he not—

Oh, right. He hadn't been there. Thank God.
Thank God.

“Nothing,” I said, feeling almost giddy with relief. “After you left, I…I walked into a display of candles and knocked them down.”

“Is that all? I thought you meant the thing with Tory's
friends, thinking we're going out.”

I froze in my tracks. And looked up at him. Slowly.

His green eyes were laughing down at me.

“What?” he said. “You think I don't know about Tory's little crush on me?”

The balloon in my stomach swelled to a watermelon.

“You can't say anything about it to her,” I said, all in a rush. “You can't tell her that you know. And it's more than just a little crush, Zach. She seriously loves you.”