Love Struck (10 page)

Just what I needed, another run-in with someone under the hate spell.

I didn't bother to answer. I walked in the other direction.

“Hey,” D.L. called after me. “Where are you going?”

“I don't have time to listen to you harass me,” I answered.

“Whoa,” he said. “Can't you take a joke? I didn't mean anything by it.”

That was odd. D.L. didn't seem overly disgusted with me.

“I swear,” he said. “This Lance thing has everyone acting crazy. Courtney just stormed off because I didn't
understand
”—he made little air quotes with his fingers—“how much getting Lance's autograph mattered.” He dropped the quotes. “Who cares? He's just a guy. And I'm way hotter, anyway.”

I was taken aback. And not because D.L. was so shallow. But because he was acting just like D.L.

And like he was completely unaffected by the powers!

D.L. just kept talking—not really caring if I was listening or not. “Courtney said she wanted an autograph, so I signed my name on a napkin. She didn't even smile. I mean, seriously, that was funny. She didn't say it had to be Lance's. But she just crumpled it up and threw it at me.”

D.L. was treating me strangely. Actually, he was treating me normally, which at that very moment was kind of strange. ”Don't you hate me?” I asked, taking a seat across from him.

“Well . . . ,” he said, shaking his hand in a back and forth gesture—signaling it was fifty-fifty. But then he broke into a huge grin and looked right at me. His eyes were even dancing.

Oh no! That smile. That look! I knew what they meant. I had seen them before—by a mob of obsessed Angel fans. D.L. was under the love spell. He was giving me an I-think-you-are-the-only-one-for-me smile. “Not you, too. I can't handle another person crushing on me.”

He almost spit out the soda he had gulped down. “Did you seriously just say that?”

I felt my face turning hot. “I was just kidding.” How
could
I have said that?

“I was JOKING,” I said.

“Some sense of humor,” he said through hiccups of laughter. Not that I could blame him. Talk about embarrassing.

“People have been acting weird around me today. You saw it,” I said, trying to justify why I'd made a total fool of myself.

The more I squirmed, the more he chuckled.

“Yeah, hardy har,” I said. “Angel says something ridiculous again. I'm sure you and Courtney will have a great big laugh over it.”

D.L. ran his fingers through his hair and his face lost the smile. “Courtney and I aren't laughing over anything. She's been acting crazy. I was sitting here minding my own business, and she screamed at me for not caring about things that are important to her. Things like Lance.” He said the name
Lance
the way you'd say the word
poo
. “Why should I have to watch her go crazy over some other guy? I came to the mall, isn't that enough?”

Duh! Of course. I should have known. D.L. wasn't infected by the love spell because he wasn't near the stage when it went off. Same for the hate rush I sent toward everyone in the bookstore. He had been at the food court the whole time—far away from dangerous old me.

“Nothing's ever enough for Courtney. She's a pain in the—,” I stopped myself. D.L. was the only person who I could actually talk to right now. The only friend, well, sort-of friend, who wasn't impaired by some spell I had cast over them. I didn't want to mess it up by insulting his girlfriend. “She'll get over it.”

“I don't know.” He shook his head and his floppy hair swayed back and forth. “She was pretty steamed.”

“Why do you even care? It doesn't sound like you even like her.”

He shrugged his shoulder. “She's hot.”

Uck. Boys. Figured that was his answer. “There are a lot of girls who are hot
and
nice. Like Gabi.”

“She's no Courtney,” he said.

That got me mad. Until I realized that maybe it was a good thing.
Maybe
D.L.'s feelings for Courtney were just what I needed to get to Lance.

It was worth a shot.

“What if I told you I knew how you could make it up to Courtney?” I asked. “How you could make her crazy happy?”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “I'm listening.”

“I'm planning to sneak backstage to see Lance once his appearance is over. Help me get in, and I'll get him to make out an autograph for her. When you give it to her, you'll look like a hero.”

The corner of his mouth raised into a half smile and he nodded his head. I knew he was picturing Courtney hanging all over him after he handed her the signed photo. Prince Charming saving the day for his beautiful, cruel princess.

“Well?” I asked him.

“I'm in,” he said.

D.L. was going to be more of a hero than he could have imagined.

“I do have to warn you,” I told him. “There is a chance you might get in a
little
bit”—I held my hands out wide to show that I actually meant a lot—“of trouble.”

D.L. smiled. “What else is new?” I had forgotten for a second that D.L. was a troublemaker.

Exactly what I needed in someone to help me pull off my scheme.

As D.L. and I headed back toward Lance, I filled him in on what I wanted him to do. He was going to be my decoy.

We were halfway there when we bumped into Reid.

“Check this out!” Reid reached into his backpack, pulled out a baseball, and tossed it at D.L.

“Yeah, so?” D.L. asked.

“Look what's written on it.”

It had Babe Ruth's signature on it. “What? Did you sign it yourself?” D.L. asked.

“Nope,” Reid said. “It's the genuine thing. You can keep it, if you want.”

D.L. scrutinized the ball. “Why would you give me this? It's worth a fortune.”

Reid patted his bag. “Because I can have as many as I want.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, even though I was a little afraid of the answer. This seemed to have Lou written all over it. “Where'd you get that?”

Reid glared down at me. “Why would I tell you?”

I had forgotten that Reid was among those who hated me now.

I nudged D.L.

“Yeah,” he said, finally opening his mouth. “How can you get as many as you want?”

Reid glared at me and crossed his arms.

“Come on, dude. Spill,” D.L. pushed, still gripping the ball.

Reid took D.L. by the arm and moved him three feet away. “Fine. But don't tell her,” he said.

Luckily, he wasn't as good a whisperer as he thought.

“Down by the Apple store. It's like the craziest thing,” Reid explained. “This girl started talking to me. Then all of a sudden a guy butted in. He wanted me to get lost. It wasn't like I was doing anything. I like Lana, but he was all jealous, anyway. So he said he'd make it worth my while if I left. That he could grant me a wish. I didn't believe it. But I figured why not. So I wished for a magic bag—for anything I want to show up right in my backpack. And it actually worked!”

No, no, no, no! Reid must have run into Lou and my mother.

“No way,” D.L. said. “A magic bag? Get real.”

“I'm serious,” Reid said. “It works.”

D.L. shook his head and tossed the ball back at Reid. “Dude, you've been played. There's no such thing as a magic bag. I can't believe you fell for something like that. Did they sell you the Empire State Building, too?”

“This is real,” Reid said. “This bag can give me anything I want. Well, anything that fits inside it.”

D.L. crossed his arms in front of him. “Then prove it.”

“All right,” Reid said, his eyes lighting up. He reminded me of one of the guys on those early morning infomercials that try to sell you their amazing steak knives.

“A pint of Ben & Jerry's Chubby Hubby, presto.” Reid pulled out a container from his bag. “Gold coins, alakazam.” He reached in and came out with a handful of gold coins. “Games for my Wii, abracadabra!” And suddenly he was holding Wii Sports Resort and the new Super Mario Bros. game.

“No way,” D.L. said, grabbing the bag.

“It's true,” Reid said.

“I want signed baseball cards,” D.L. said. He looked inside the bag. “See, I knew it wouldn't work.”

“Of course not for
you
,” Reid said. “It's
my
magic bag.” Reid closed his eyes. “Signed baseball cards,” he intoned. Seconds later, he reached inside and pulled them out.

D.L.'s eyes practically popped out of their sockets.

I couldn't keep quiet any longer. “Don't tell me, you got the bag from a guy with big dimples, right? Did you have to sign anything? Make a trade? People don't give you stuff for nothing.” It sounded like Lou just didn't want Reid flirting with Mom, but I had a feeling that wasn't the only reason. Young Lou wanted to control the world. What better way than collecting tons of souls?

“Wasn't talking to you,” Reid said.

“She does have a point,” D.L. interjected. He was still examining the backpack, looking for a reasonable explanation for Reid's magic bag. “What did it cost?”

“That's the best part! Absolutely nothing.”

“And you believed that?” I asked.

He sneered at me. “I'm not stupid. The guy said I'd be helping him with his documentary,
Sold Out
, about giving away his fortune and making people's dreams come true. I just had to sign a waiver.”

“Did you even read it?” I yelled. The idiot had probably just traded away his soul and didn't even realize it. Chances were it wasn't a waiver to be in a documentary. It was a waiver of any rights he had to his life. A written agreement to spend eternity in the underworld. I had a feeling Lou's fake documentary wasn't called Sold
Out
, but rather Soul
ed Out
. Meaning he was getting people to sell him their souls.

“You need to give back the wish.”

Reid's eyebrows furrowed. “No way. Do you see this? It's the real deal. And I was smart. I didn't just get one thing,” he said, tapping his head. “I made it so I can get unlimited gifts. Cash, a new baseball glove, an iPad, anything that fits in my backpack is mine.” He then opened his bag and proceeded to pull out cash, a baseball glove, and an iPad.

“Maybe we should check out what this wish thing is all about,” D.L. said, still keeping a hand on Reid's bag. “Then I won't need a stupid autograph. I can make Courtney crazy for me without i—”

“No!” I interrupted, and pulled D.L.'s hand off Reid's bag. “Love spells are awful. You don't want someone to like you because of that. Trust me.”

“How would you know?” D.L. asked.

“Umm,” I stammered. “It's obvious. You'd never know for sure if the person really likes you.”

There was no way I was letting D.L. make a deal with my father. The price was too high. Besides, Courtney certainly wasn't risk-your-soul hot.

“Fine,” D.L. said. “Then forget the love spell. There are tons of other things I could wish for. I wouldn't mind my own magic bag.”

“This whole thing doesn't sound too good to be true to you?” I asked. “Don't you think there's a catch?”

“Sorry,” Reid said to D.L. “I'm outta here. I've had enough
. She
”—he pointed to me—“is such a downer. I can't stand to be around her
.
Just the sight of her makes me wish I had asked for an Angel-free world.”

Which reminded me . . . I had a real angel I needed to get to.

“But did you see all that stuff he had?” D.L. gestured to Reid as he walked off. “That bag was empty and he pulled out an iPad. You can't fake that.”

“Yes, you can. Haven't you ever heard of the magic of Hollywood?” I argued. “There could have been an extra compartment in his bag that you never found. Or maybe Reid is a great magician and used sleight of hand to make it look like those things came from the bag. They were probably under his sweater. This could all be a big setup. A documentary on how people are gullible—and Reid is in on it. Now, are we getting the autograph for Courtney or do you want to go make a joke of yourself? I'm sure your girlfriend won't want to see you made a fool of on some show.”

“All right,” D.L. said, giving in. “Let's go.”

It was about time!

We got to the stage area, and everyone was gone. Everyone but security. The concert was over.

“Ready?” I asked D.L.

“Ready,” he answered.

And just like that D.L. ran up to the guards and tried to push his way into the backstage area. It felt like we were in a movie. One where we were about to save the world. James Bond, watch out.

“You can't go in there,” the bigger guard told him.

“Try and stop me,” D.L. answered.

The skinny one tried to do just that. He reached for D.L.'s arm, but D.L. ran. The guy was fast. He raced around the corner with the first guard chasing him. A second later D.L. was back at the door trying to get inside again. This time the second guard tried to catch him. Before I knew it, D.L. had both men following him, and when he turned the corner, the coast was clear for me to get backstage. I booked it to the door before the guards could make it back.

Once I made it inside, I kept my eyes glued on the door to make sure I wasn't followed. But when you're looking backward, you can't really see what's in front of you. And that's how I smashed right into Lance Gold.