Parties & Potions #4 (22 page)

“Yeah,” she says. “If a warlock marries a notch, their kids don’t get powers. It’s only passed through the mom. Like baldness.”

“But what does that have to do with me?” I ask. “If I marry Raf, my kids are going to get powers anyway.”

“True,” Karin says, “but that’s not fair to the warlocks. If we all marry norlocks, who are they going to marry?”

My head spins. Aren’t we a little young to be talking about getting married? I can’t even get my license. “But… but my mom married a norlock. So did my grandmother. And Viv is bringing her boyfriend and he’s a norlock!”

“It happens,” she says with a shrug. “But it’s not very WC.”

I wrinkle my forehead in confusion.

“Witch Correct,” Karin explains.

Well, so what? I don’t care! I love Raf and I want him to be my date. If Viv can do it, so can I. Can’t I? Why does everything have to be so difficult?

If only I liked Adam. My life would be so much easier. If only Adam didn’t hate me.

Once the first dance is over, the band invites all the guests onto the dance floor. Our whole table gets up to join them. But I stop Adam before he makes a move.

“Adam, hold on a sec, please?” I move over to the seat beside his. The ice age between us is over.

“Hey.” He gives me a sheepish smile.

“We need to talk,” I begin. Since we’re the only people at the table, I launch right in. “I’m really, really sorry I didn’t tell you I had a boyfriend. I should have. I know this sounds lame, but I think you’re a great guy, and I really, really want us to be friends. Do you think we could be friends? Or do you hate me?”

He cocks his head. “Yes.”

“Yes, you think we could be friends, or yes, you hate me?”

His eyes crinkle. “Both.”

I laugh. “Then we’re friends.”

“Yes. And I’m sorry for mauling you on the chairlift. Do you hate me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Good.” He smiles. He picks up the fork and spoon and gently taps them against the edge of the table like they’re drumsticks. “So what now, friend?”

Since the song is a fast one, I say, “We can dance.”

“Your boyfriend won’t mind if we dance?”

“Raf wouldn’t mind. He dances with other girls all the time.”

Adam raises an eyebrow.

That didn’t sound right. “He’s in the school dance show,” I explain.

“Oh, so that’s his name, huh? Raf. What’s that short for?”

“Huh?”

“Short for. He wasn’t born with the name Raf.” He drums his cutlery against the table again.

“Of course he was! Wasn’t he?”

He laughs. “How long have you been going out, again?”

I playfully punch him in the arm. “Shut up,” I say. “We’ve been together a long time. He’s a great guy. You’d like him.”

“He’s a great guy, huh? But can he do this?” His eyes twinkle, and he wiggles his fingers and levitates a glass of water.

I laugh. “No, he can’t.”

“No? What about this?” He raises the fork.

“Nope.”

He lifts the fork so that it’s gently tapping against the glass.

“No, he can’t do that, either. But I’m going to tell him the truth. About me.”

“Oh. Well. That is serious.”

“Yeah. It is.”

“Well, if he doesn’t react the way you want him to,” he says, putting the glass and the fork gently down on the table, “I’m here for you.”

“He will,” I say. “But thanks.” I push back my chair. “Wanna join them on the dance floor?”

“Absolutely.”

This time we stay at the party until the bitter end. By the time we go home, it’s four a.m. in Long Island. We use the go spell and arrive in the bathroom.

“Are you getting washed or going straight to bed?” Miri whispers.

“We’re wearing makeup,” I remind her, lifting my facial cleanser. “Do you want your skin to break out two weeks before your Samsorta?”

“Nooo. And I was thinking about what you said.” “About what? I say a lot of things.” “About my nails. I’m going to try to stop biting.” “Good for you. Let me know if you need encouragement. I’m happy to swat your hand whenever you want. Or to wrap your fingers in Band-Aids.”

Once I get my pj’s on, we carefully creak open the bathroom door to go to bed.

The hallway lights are on. My dad’s bedroom door is open.

Uh-oh.

“Rachel! Miri!” my dad screams, charging toward us. “Where were you? We were worried sick! I went to check on you and your beds were empty! Do you know what time it is?”

Busted. Well, we were going to tell him tomorrow anyway….

The veins in my dad’s neck look like they’re about to burst. “Jennifer is on the phone with the police right now!”

Miri and I exchange a look. I nod.

“Dad,” she begins, “we have something to tell you.”

I square my shoulders and open my mouth. And then I say, “We’re witches.”

The Stinging Truth

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel like a weight has been lifted. He knows. No more lying. No more lying!

At least to Dad.

I monitor his veins to see how he’s taking the news. They haven’t popped. A good sign, right?

“You’re witches,” he repeats. “You snuck out in the middle of the night because you’re witches.”

At this point, Jennifer has hung up the phone and is standing by my father’s side in her ankle-length silk bathrobe. Guess we’re telling her, too.

Miri shakes her head. “No, we snuck out because we were invited to a Simsorta, which is kind of like a bar mitzvah? But for witches? And—”

Jennifer looks up at my dad, eyes wide with fear. “Is it drugs?”

Oh God. Is she kidding me? “It’s not drugs,” I swear. “We’re
witches.”
I give Prissy’s room a worried look. “Can we take this into another room?”

The three of them wordlessly follow me into the kitchen. Miri, Jennifer, and I slide into chairs, but my dad just stands by the table with his arms crossed and his veins now bulging.

“As I was saying,” I continue, “Miri and I are witches.”

“What do you mean?” Jennifer asks, running her hands against the tabletop. “You play on Ouija boards?”

“Not exactly.”

Jennifer sits up straight in her chair. “You’re not sacrificing animals, are you?”

“Of course not!” Miri retorts.

“Miri once tried to save a herd of cows, actually,” I say. “She zapped them into the gym.” This might be T.M.I.— Too Much Information.

“I have no idea what you girls are talking about,” my dad says. “It’s like you’re speaking Japanese.”

“We can speak Japanese!” Miri exclaims. “We did a language spell.”

“That’s how come we understood Italian at Al Dente last month,” I say hurriedly. “Remember?”

They stare at me blankly.

I turn to Miri.
“Spesso non compire.”
They don’t get it. “Dad, Jennifer. We’re witches. We can do magic.”

The veins in his neck start pulsating again. “There’s no such thing as witches!”

Miri puts her hands on her hips. “Yeah, there kind of is.”

Jennifer wags her finger at us. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Miri gives me a look. I don’t need to understand a foreign language to know she’s thinking, How do we make them believe us without freaking them out? Mom and Miri made my shoes levitate when they were telling me. That did the trick.

“Dad, Jennifer,” Miri begins. “I know this sounds crazy. But do you see that bowl of fake apples in the center of the table? I’m going to lift it. With my mind.”

“Oh, come on,” my dad scoffs.

I put my hand on Jennifer’s but keep my eyes on my dad. “Don’t get freaked out, ’kay?”

Jennifer swipes her hands away and places them on her stomach. “You’re acting like a child.”

It gets cold in the kitchen, Miri purses her lips, and the ceramic bowl of fake fruit levitates toward the ceiling. Then the apples rise beyond the bowl and start juggling.

My dad closes his eyes.

Jennifer screams. “Stop! Stop! I don’t want them to break! They were expensive!”

Miri gently rests the bowl and the fruit on the table. “See?” she says softly. “We’re witches. We can do cool stuff with our raw will.”

“It’s like the Force,” I tell my dad. Better to use lingo he understands. “And I can do it too. Wanna see?” What can I lift? I look around the room. I spot the fridge. I concentrate. I open it. Then I close it. Then I open it again. “Look what I’m doing! Isn’t that fun?” I close the fridge door and look back at my dad. The color has drained from his face, leaving him a pasty white.

“I don’t understand,” he whispers.

“Dad, are you okay?” I ask. “Do you want to sit down?”

He sinks into a chair.

Miri touches his shoulder. “I know this is shocking for you, but it’s true. It was the night of the lobsters at the Abramsons’! Remember? I brought my lobster back to life? I used magic! That’s when I knew something was up.”

“You brought the lobster back to life,” Jennifer says, manically rubbing her stomach as though there were a genie in there.

“Yup,” Miri says, giddy. “Unintentionally. It was so cool! I haven’t done that since. It’s known to be really tough and there are some moral issues about bringing back the dead—”

“I didn’t have my powers yet,” I interrupt, giving Miri a warning look. Definitely T.M.I. “But I finally got them this summer. Right before camp.”

“I don’t know what to say,” my dad says, looking down at his hands.

“You don’t have to say anything,” I tell him. But as I say it, I know it’s not true. I don’t know what I was expecting his reaction to be, but I guess I always hoped that if we did tell him, he’d be impressed. He wouldn’t be staring at his hands.

“I don’t know what to say,” he repeats.

Miri, seemingly oblivious to my dad’s moroseness, happily rambles on. Now that the floodgates have opened, it’s all pouring out. “Isn’t it cool, Dad? Don’t you think?”

Jennifer steadies her hands and clasps them together. She looks back and forth between me and Miri. “Have you ever used your powers on … me?”

I give Miri a look that is intended to say
I know you want
to be truthful, but let’s tread carefully, please.
“Before you guys got married,” I begin, “we might have tested out a few
tiny
spells.”

Miri nods. “There was the ugly spell, the truth serum spell, the love spell that we put on Dad so that he’d fall back in love with Mom—”

“Miri!” I scream. Did
she
ingest some of that truth serum spell? Is she totally incapable of reading the situation here? Don’t drown them in info. It’s W.T.M.I.
(Way
Too Much In-formation).

“What?” She smiles cluelessly “Mom was really upset about that one, so she undid it.”

My dad blinks. And then blinks again. “She undid it? Your mother?”

Miri claps. “Of course! She’s a witch too. That’s where we got it from. We know she never told you. She didn’t want you to know. But it’s true, you can ask her.”

Thud.
My dad passes out and slides out of chair and onto the floor.

“Dad!” I scream and jump over to him. Miri and Jennifer jump right behind me. The three of us grab hold of his arms and heave him back up.

His eyes flutter open. “Let go,” he says. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

My Liquid Paper-white dad rubs the back of his head. “Can I have some water?”

Not wanting to let go of him, I focus on the fridge, re-open it, and mind-pull a water bottle across the room.

“The water is flying!” chirps a new voice.

We all look at the door. Prissy. Uh-oh.

I lower the bottle.

“How did you do that?” Prissy asks. “Again! Again! Are you a magician?”

“Um …” I wasn’t exactly planning on telling Prissy. “Kind of.”

She crawls onto my lap. “Can you make me a pony?”

“I don’t think so,” I tell her.

“I would take really good care of her. Please? Can I have one? Please?”

“No pony,” Jennifer says, still rubbing her stomach, her eyes now darting nervously from me to Miri. “Unless you want to. Whatever you guys want. I’m not telling you what to do. The magic isn’t bad for the baby, is it? Like radiation?”

“It’s not going to hurt the baby,” I promise. “Witches use it all the time, even when they’re pregnant.”

Prissy’s eyes widen to fruit bowl size. “You’re witches?”

Whoops.

“Yes,” Miri says.

“Can you fly?” she squeaks.

“Yes,” I say.

She bounces on my knee. “Can I fly?”

“I can take you,” I say.

“I don’t think so,” Jennifer says. She gives us a jittery smile. “That’s okay with you, right, Rachel?”

Great, she’s weirding out on us.

“I want my pony to fly too,” Prissy says. “Can I have a magic pony?”

“No pony!” Miri and I scream.

“What about a dog?”

“I need to lie down,” my dad says, still looking at his hands.

“Daddy?” I’m worried. “You don’t need to go to the hospital, do you?” Fantabulous. I finally tell someone the truth and it gives him a heart attack.

“I just have a headache. I need to lie down.” Without looking at us, he walks out of the kitchen.

“But, Dad …” Miri’s voice trails off. “I want to tell you everything.”

“Not now,” my dad says.

“So,” Jennifer says, a smile still forced onto her lips, “can I get you girls anything? Another glass of water? Or are you hungry? I can make pancakes! Blueberry pancakes? Banana pancakes? Chocolate pancakes? Chocolate and banana pan-cakes?”

“We’re fine,” I say softly. I can’t believe Dad just took off.

“Okay, then,” Jennifer says, pushing back her chair and avoiding all eye contact. “Prissy, it’s time for you to go back to sleep. As long as it’s okay with your sisters. Girls, do you mind if I take Prissy back to bed?”

“Of course not,” I say.

“You sure?” she asks nervously. “I don’t want to upset either of you in any way….”

“Just take her,” Miri snaps.

Jennifer grabs Prissy and hurries out of the kitchen, the forced grin still plastered on her face.

Huh.

“That didn’t go well,” I say, too shocked to move.

A few moments later, Jennifer calls, “Good night, girls! If you need anything, just holler! I’ll be there in a flash!”

The door slams shut. I’m sure she wishes she had a lock.

Miri crosses her arms. Her face turns red. She blinks and blinks and then angry tears run down her cheeks. “What a jerk!” She explodes. “We tell him the most important thing in our life, and he doesn’t even want to talk about it!”

“It’s hard for him to deal with,” I say softly.

“It’s hard for us, too! I don’t care if it’s hard for him! He can’t just walk away! That was really rude. If my daughter told me she was a witch, I would have a lot of questions. I wouldn’t tell her to get lost.”

“Miri, you’d be surprised if your daughter told you she
wasn’t
a witch.”

“If she told me she was something else, then. A vampire. Whatever. My first instinct wouldn’t be to go to another room.”

“No, it would probably be to put on a turtleneck.”

Instead of laughing, she wipes her tears away with the back of her hand.

“Can’t we give him a break?” I say.

“Why should we? You didn’t freak out when Mom and I told you the truth about us.”

“I kind of did.”

“No, you had a lot of questions. And that’s what I’d expect. Questions.” Tears roll down her face. “Who does he think he is? He does whatever he wants, leaves Mom, moves away, gets remarried, has another baby, and we’re just supposed to take it. We’re supposed to accept him, but he can’t even talk to us? Forget it.” The words are spewing out of her mouth like daggers. “You know what? I want to go home.” Now the veins on
her
neck are close to bursting.

“Miri, it’s five in the morning.”

“I don’t care. I’m mad and I want to go home,” she says, sobbing. She stumbles out of the kitchen, throws open the door to our room, and shoves all her stuff into her bag, tornado-style. “Are you coming with me or not?”

“I—I—I guess,” I stammer. “Let me just go tell them we’re leaving.” I say the words, but what I’m really thinking is they won’t let us go. If I tell them we’re going back to Mom’s, they’ll try to stop us. They’ll say,
Don’t be silly! Don’t leave us!

We love you even though you’re witches!

“I’m leaving in two minutes with or without you,” she blubbers.

I creep back outside. My dad’s door is still closed. The house is silent. As though nothing even happened.

I knock. “Dad? Jennifer?”

No answer.

“Guys?”

I turn the handle. My dad and Jennifer are sitting up in bed, side by side. When she sees me, Jennifer protectively puts her hands back over her stomach.

“Miri wants to go back to Mom’s,” I say. “I’m trying to stop her but she’s really upset.”

Jennifer gives me that fake smile again. “Oh! Okay! No problem! Do you need me to drive you? I’m happy to! Whatever you want!”

“We’re fine, thanks. We have these magic batteries and a powder concoction. They both work well. Miri prefers the powder, but we sometimes end up in bathrooms.…” I let my voice trail off. Now she’s going to think we’re talking about drugs again.

Dad doesn’t say anything. Nothing. Not “Don’t go.” Not “Stay.” Not “I love you.”

When my dad finally looks up at me, his eyes are shocked. Shocked and disappointed.

Okay, then. ’Nuff said. “I guess I’ll go with her,” I say, my voice cracking. I will not cry. I will
not
cry. Must be strong for Miri. Must be strong. I close the door and return to our room.

“Ready?” Miri asks, eyes flashing. “If he can’t deal with it, then we don’t need him.”

The world is spinning around me. As Miri sprinkles the powder into the air, I realize that I knew all along that he would react like this. That’s why I didn’t want to tell him. Why I didn’t want to tell anyone. Which is why I will never, ever tell anyone the truth about me again as long as I live.

Even in the unlikely event that Raf and I stay together for the next five years, or for the next ten years, even if Raf and I get engaged and then get married, I will never tell him that I am a witch, because I never want him to look at me the way my father just did.