Parties & Potions #4 (7 page)

Wahoo! A year’s reprieve. I’m sure by then Miri will have forgotten about this crazy plan.

“Oh, no,” Miri says, looking crestfallen. “I want to do it
this
year. Wendaline’s doing it this year.”

“It’ll still be fun next year,” I say. “More fun, even, ’cause we won’t be rushed.”

Instead of listening to my sage advice, my sister is babbling to herself. “There must be other places to train for this. I mean, witches from all over the world participate. There can’t be only one school. I’m going to ask around on Mywitchbook.” She runs into her room.

Mom sighs. “She certainly has a bee in her bonnet, huh?”

“Seems that way.” Am I a terrible sister if I’m hoping she loses her Internet connection because of a freak power failure?

For dinner, Mom serves a particularly vile vegetarian black bean burrito dish. I try to
moosa
it away like they did at the Full Moon dinner, but the plate just gets zapped from the table to the kitchen counter.

Mom snickers. “Nice try.”

After helping with the dishes, I retreat to my room to read my American history assignment. Hello, Civil War. I’m daydreaming about Scarlett O’Hara’s hoop dresses when Miri screams out, “Lozacea!”

“Bless you!” I call back.

“I found something! There’s a place in Arizona that offers group lessons too! And they don’t start until next week! I’m calling them right now!”

Mom and I both join Miri in her room as she’s dialing.

I crawl onto her bed while she paces, the receiver pressed against her ear.

Mom leans against the doorframe. “Do you want me to talk to them?”

Miri shakes her head. My sister is not messing around. “I got it. Hello? My name is Miri Weinstein, and I’m calling because my sister and I want to find out more information about your Samsorta classes…. Really? You’re not full?”

Terrific.

“Yes, we both have our powers. I’m thirteen and she’s fourteen.”

“Fifteen!” I correct. One more day! One more day!

“Sure,” she continues. “That would be fine. We look for-ward to meeting you, Matilda.” She hangs up the phone. “Wahoo! We’re in!” She shimmies around the room.

“Um. Yay?”

“I’m so excited!” she shrieks, hugging me. “We’re going to Lozacea!”

Mom crosses her arms. “Not until I check them out, you’re not.”

“They’re very reputable,” Miri assures her. “Here’s their number.”

Mom takes the phone, dials, and retreats into the hallway.

Meanwhile, Miri dances—if you can call it that—around her room. Clearly she didn’t inherit dancing skills either. “We’re in!” she shrieks. “All we have to do is pass the test!”

Er. I raise an eyebrow. “What test?”

“Matilda in admissions said she just has to make sure we actually have our powers. Apparently people have tried to fake it. She’ll stop by sometime this week.”

Pop quiz? Awesome. “Stop by where? Here? At school? Where?”

“It’s all good!”

Yeah, right. I’m not just worried. I’m very worried. I’m actually feeling very queasy right now.

Of course, it’s probably because of the un-moosa-able black bean burrito.

Birthday Lovin’

Happy birthday to me!
I wake up singing to myself. It’s my birthday and I’ll sing if I want to!

I’m fifteen. Which is so old. I’m halfway through my teens! One year away from getting my driver’s permit. Three years away from voting. Six years away from drinking. Twelve years away from getting married! (Yes, I’ve given it lots of thought, contemplated a few formulas, and I believe that twenty-seven is the ideal age to get married.)

After my birthday shower, I put on my birthday outfit (ha-ha, not really my birthday outfit, since I’m not naked), my favorite jeans and a cool magically altered top, and pad my way to the kitchen. “I’m fifteen!” I holler. “Hear me roar!”

My mom serves me a plate of banana pancakes, my favorite. “Happy birthday, honey! Do you want to open your present now or tonight?”

“Hmm, tonight is fine,” I say with a straight face. Then I crack up. “I want to open it this very second, what do you think?” Gimme that cell phone, baby!

She hands me a small box wrapped in striped wrapping paper. I rip inside and it’s a … pair of socks.

Just kidding! It’s a cell phone! A beautiful silver pocket-sized cell phone! “Wahoo!”
Just call me on my cell. Excuse me, I think my cell is ringing. Nice to meet you; let me give you my cell number.

“No surprises this year,” Mom says. “Just don’t go crazy with your calls and your texts. You and Miri are sharing minutes.”

“Love you!” I kiss her cheek.

Miri hands me a wrapped rectangular box. “My turn!”

I tear the paper off in two seconds and uncover an adorable pink jeweled cell phone case. “Perfect! Thanks, Miri! Best presents ever!”

“You can return it if you don’t like it,” Miri tells me. “They have other colors.”

“Miri, I love it!”

“It has extra padding for when you drop it,” she says.

I slide the phone into the case right away. Gorgeous. I hug my new contraption to my chest. “I won’t drop it! It’s too precious!”

“Just in case,” she says. “Get it? In case?”

“Wakka, wakka.”

She sits back and digs in to her pancakes. “So, who’s coming tonight?”

My mom said I was allowed to invite a few people over for birthday cake even though it’s a school night. I could have invited more people over on Saturday night, but we have to go to my dad’s on Long Island this weekend. As we do every other weekend. Disadvantage number 107 of having divorced parents. I mean, I love my dad and all, but missing out on the social activities every other weekend sucks.

Other disadvantages include your parents no longer being married to each other, your father no longer sharing your house, lifetime relationship issues, and being forced to wear a puffy pink bridesmaid dress at your parent’s second wedding, among other gems.

The advantage? You get two parental birthday gifts. The second of which I’ll be getting on Saturday. Wahoo!

“Hello?” Miri says. “Rachel? Still with me? Who’d you invite?”

“Oh, sorry. Raf, Tammy, and Alison. And you, Lex, Mom. Obviously.” Of course it would be nice if I could in-vite Dad, Jennifer, and Prissy, but that would make everyone uncomfy, particularly me.

She drags a piece of banana around her plate. “No Wendaline?”

“I think I’d rather it be just close friends. I like Wendaline, but she does weird witch things in public.”

“Give her a break, Rachel. She’s never been to a real school before.”

“I know, I know, but I’d still rather keep some distance between her and my peeps.” I wink. “Just in case.”

I have a superb day. How could I not? It’s
my
day!

Random people wish me happy birthday Tammy brings me a cupcake during lunch. All my friends sing.

I drop my cell phone only twice.

“I didn’t know it was your birthday!” Wendaline says, approaching our table for a quick visit. Luckily, her new friends seem to have stuck. Luckily she hasn’t told them her witchy secret yet. “I would have sent you an e-broom!”

Everyone stares. I give her a look. “Don’t you mean an
e-card,
Wendaline?”

“Right! An e-card! ’Cause why would I send an e-broom? That would be weird!”

And that’s exactly why she’s not invited over tonight. Hey, I’m not being mean. I’ve known her for only a week.

Fine, I’m being a little mean, but tough. It’s my birthday and I can be mean if I want to.

“Happy birthday, dear Rachel…. Happy birthday to you! And many more!”

This song just never gets old, does it?

“Skip around the room, skip around the room,”
Alison sings.

What is she talking about? I don’t skip.

“We won’t shut up …,”
Alison continues,
“till you skip around the room!
Come on, Rachel, it’s a song I learned at camp.
”

“There’s nowhere to skip; it’s a New York kitchen!”

“Skip around the room! We won’t shut up till you—”

I push back my chair and attempt to skip around the table while avoiding stepping on Tigger’s tail.

Hmmm. Didn’t Tigger used to be gray? When did he turn black? When did he gain twenty pounds? This cat needs some serious South Beaching. This cat looks like he swallowed Tigger.

Wait. This isn’t my cat!

“What is that?” I shriek, pointing.

The fat black cat has big green eyes and velvety fur and is clutching something shiny between his teeth.

“How did a stray cat get into the apartment?” Tammy asks.

“It must belong to one of the neighbors,” Mom says. “Go back outside, kitty! Miri, can you show him the way? Who wants cake?”

The cat nuzzles my leg. He’s kind of cute. But what does he have between his teeth?

I squat to the ground. It’s a pink gift bag. On the front, in black calligraphy, it says
Rachel Weinstein.

Huh?

Who would send me a present via a cat?

A witch. The pop quiz? Tonight? Or … Wendaline! She sent me a present! Via a cat! “I got him,” I say, gently scooping him up and carrying him into the hallway.

He snuggles into my boob. Smart animal: he went for the bigger one. I remove the bag from his mouth, place him on the floor, and check out his collar.
Tinkerbell.
Oh, it’s a girl. On the flip side, it reads
Don’t worry about me. I’m charmed and will find my way home!
This cat must belong to Wendaline. Who else would announce her cat’s charmed status to the world?

Do I need to be charming Tigger? It’s not like he ever leaves the apartment. What a slacker. From now on, he’s running all my errands.

When I open the tiny bag, a red balloon soars to the ceiling. Then a yellow one. And then more in silver, gold, white, and blue.

Next I pull out a card:

Finally, I pull out a small black jewelry box. I open it to find a delicate silver broom charm. Aw. How sweet. How thoughtful. I feel a ping in my chest for not inviting her.

How rude of her to make me feel bad on my birthday!

I must hide this charm before Tammy, Raf, or Alison sees it. Plus I must get rid of Tinkerbell. Except … where is Tinkerbell? She is no longer on the floor. Where is she hiding?

“Here, Tinkerbell,” I whisper. “Where did you go?”

No Tinkerbell. I guess she disappeared. Why am I not surprised?

Tammy gives me a bunch of books
(Bliss, Fly on the Wall, A Great and Terrible Beauty).
“They’re all a little paranormal,” she says.

Er. ’Cause my life isn’t paranormal enough.

Alison gets me adorable pink flannel pajama bottoms. “For camp,” she says, although I’m pretty sure I’ll be wearing them every night until camp, ’cause they’re so cute and comfy.

I wait until only Raf is left before opening his gift. My mom and Lex are in the kitchen, cleaning up; Miri’s in her room, trying to make more Mywitchbook friends; and we’re cuddling on the couch. I open the card first.

Omigod. I reread the last line.

Love, Raf.

And again:
Love, Raf.

He wrote
love.
Love! He loves me! He wouldn’t have written it unless he loved me, right? I mean, I know it’s a relatively common sign-off, but still.
Love.
Love! He said love! He loves me! I peek at him to see if he’s waiting for a reaction. What am I supposed to do? Should I show happiness? Excitement? Should I throw down the card and shout “I love you too!”? Or maybe “I love you too and by the way I’m a witch.”

No. No!

I’m not telling him.
Ever.

At least until we’re engaged.

Anyway, he didn’t say “I love you.” He just signed the card
love.
How do I know that this isn’t standard practice for him? Maybe he signs all his cards
love.
Birthday cards. Anniversary cards. Mother’s Day cards. Of course he signs Mother’s Day cards
love.
What kind of son doesn’t sign Mother’s Day cards with
love
? Jerk sons. And Raf is no jerk. Maybe he signs Mother’s Day cards
All My Love.
Or
Love Always.
Maybe
love
is a step down. A bad sign! Maybe he’s breaking up with me. Maybe—

“Um, Rachel?” Raf asks, squeezing my shoulder. “Aren’t you going to open the present?”

Right.

I delicately peel off the red paper. It’s another jewelry box! Inside is a thin gold chain, and dangling on it, a small gold heart.

Omigod. He gave me his heart! Seriously! He totally loves me! I think I’m going to cry! “It’s beautiful,” I say, and blink the waterworks away.

“Really? You like it?”

“I love …” You! I love you! “It.”

He helps me with the clasp.

And then … well, let’s just say my calculations were right. Birthdays definitely include extra kissing.