The Dolls (14 page)

That night I dream again of the parlor and blood pouring out from beneath the doors. But this time, the images are blurry and vague, as if my brain can’t muster the energy to form them whole.

Still, I wake up with my heart racing, the alarm clock blaring on my bedside table next to me.

I haul myself out of bed and head toward the bathroom. As soon as I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I stop in my tracks and stare.

It would be no exaggeration to say that I look like a model. The so-called magic mask seems to have continued working overnight, making my lips even fuller, my skin even more luminous, and my eyelashes even thicker. My hair, which is normally creased and wild when I wake up, looks like it’s been professionally blown out.

I dress quickly in my school uniform, then dig into the box of accessories Peregrine sent to my house and pull out a pair of huge diamond studs. I’ve only ever had the fake kind you can buy at stalls in Chinatown, though I have the feeling these are the real thing. I put them on and study myself in the mirror, admiring the way they catch the light. I’m about to dig back into the box to see what else is there when Aunt Bea’s words from yesterday flash through my head.
They may be your sister queens, but that doesn’t mean you have to become one of them.

I’m hit with a surge of guilt. Am I doing something wrong by embracing the advantages zandara can give me? Then again, my ancestors risked their lives so that we could have this kind of power. After a minute, I close the box up, but I keep the earrings on.

Downstairs, there’s hot coffee in the pot on the counter, and Aunt Bea has left a note saying she had to get to the bakery and will see me this afternoon. I guess that means I’ll be walking to school. I shoot Meredith a text saying,
You’ll never believe the makeover I got
, toast a Pop-Tart, pour myself a paper cup of coffee, and head out the door. Maybe the walk will clear my head.

But Peregrine’s Aston Martin is already idling in my driveway. “Get in,” she says through her open window, looking me up and down. “No, on second thought, go back inside, change your shoes, and get in.”

I glance down at my loafers then back at her. “What are you doing here?”

“Giving you a ride,” she says calmly. “Unless you insist on wearing
those
hideous things. The least you can do after we went out of our way to help you yesterday is to wear some heels.”

“But I don’t
want
to wear heels.”

“There are at least six pairs in the box I sent,” she says. “Seriously, go. The purple stilettos will look perfect with your skin tone.”

I retreat back inside and throw the shoes on, grateful that Aunt Bea isn’t here to see this. When I totter back out, Peregrine calls from the car, “Now roll up your skirt. What are you, a nun?”

I suppose she has a point, so I roll it once at the waistband, raising the hem an inch from my knees.

“Roll it again!” she commands.

I shake my head vehemently. “I’m not a nun,” I grumble as I climb into the passenger seat, “but I’m not a prostitute either.”

She makes a face. “This would be so much easier if you’d just accept my fashion advice.” She revs the engine, puts the car in drive, and roars down the hill toward town. It’s only when I glance absentmindedly toward the backseat that I realize her creepy snake is sitting there, his eyes fixed on me. I shriek, and Peregrine swerves.

“Crap, Eveny, what’s the problem?” she snaps. “You’re going to get us into an accident!”

I flatten myself against the door. “Your snake is staring at me.”

“So?”

“So it’s creepy,” I say.

“Oh for goodness’ sake, grow up. Snakes are an important part of zandara. Did you know that in some parts of the world, people who practice magic even worship them?”

“You’re never going to get me to worship your snake.”

Peregrine laughs. “Of course not. If anything,
he
worships
us
.” I look back at Audowido, who’s still staring at me with his beady little eyes. I shiver as his tiny tongue darts out of his mouth.

“Aw, he likes you,” Peregrine says. “That’s his way of blowing kisses.”

Peregrine laughs, and I could swear that I can see Audowido crack a small, snakey smile.

As I walk down the hall toward first period flanked by Peregrine and Chloe, people turn and stare. And it’s not the who’sthe-new-girl? stares I got on Monday or the what’s-she-doing-with-The-Dolls? stares I got Tuesday. No, these stares are disbelieving and appreciative. A few guys whistle at me, and I feel myself turning red.

As we take our seats in English class, everyone turns to look at me. A cheerleader is openly glaring at me from the front of the room, and a guy wearing a Pointe Laveau baseball uniform and glasses is actually drooling.

“You’re welcome,” Chloe says, beaming at me.

“This is all because of my makeover yesterday?” I whisper.

“Maybe you’re underestimating how unfortunate you looked before,” Peregrine says.

I grit my teeth. “So this is your secret? You cast charms on yourselves, and boys just fall all over themselves with lust?”

Peregrine pouts dramatically. “You say that like it’s a crime! You’re forgetting that
we’re
both beautiful to start with, so it’s not like we need as much work as you do.”

“Leave her alone, Peregrine,” Chloe says wearily. “You know she’s pretty.” She turns to me and adds, “Just between us”—she gestures to her ample cleavage—“this is magic too!”

“Your chest?” I ask incredulously.

“Our whole
bodies
,” she replies. “Our moms created a charmed floral mud; the effects last about six weeks. It works amazingly.”

“Maybe if you play your cards right, we’ll let you have one too,” Peregrine says. She looks meaningfully at my chest and adds, “Your A cups will thank you.”

As much as I’d love to magically have the perfect body, Aunt Bea’s warning echoes in my head again. But can I really turn down something like this? I settle for saying, “Let me think about it.”

Peregrine snorts. “Suit yourself. But don’t blame me when the frat boys at our party mistake you for an eight-year-old girl.”

When I slink into my seat in third period French class with Mrs. Toliver, trying to avoid the catcalls in the hall, I’m surprised to see that Drew’s back.

“Hey! I didn’t know you had this class with me!” I say. “Are you feeling better?”

But Drew just stares. “What happened to you?” he asks. I’m not sure whether the question is appreciative or critical.

“A little makeover. No big deal.”

“Whoa,” is all he says. But the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

I clear my throat. “So you were out sick?”

“Yeah, must have been a stomach bug or something. I woke up Monday morning feeling totally gross. So how was your first week?”

“It was okay. I made some friends.”

“At this school? You must have magical powers or something.”

He’s just joking, but knowing how close he’s come to the truth makes me flinch. “Liv Jimènez is nice,” I say. “She says she knows you.”

“Liv? Yeah, we went to grade school together.”

“You don’t hang out with her now?”

“Not at school too much, just because we have different classes. But she comes to see my band play sometimes. She knows a lot about the music industry, actually. She’s a real cool girl.”

The bell rings, and Mrs. Toliver tells us to quiet down. Drew takes the seat beside me and scoots his desk a bit closer. “So what other classes do you have?” he whispers.

I dig my class schedule out of my backpack and hand it to him. “Bummer,” he says. “This is the only one we have together. Figures you’d be in all those smarty-pants AP classes.”

“Eveny? Drew?” Mrs. Toliver asks. “Think your conversation could wait until after class is over?”

“Sorry,” we say in unison.

After class, Drew walks me to my locker. “So,” he begins as I pull out my economics book and stuff it in my bag, “my band’s playing at this bar tonight. I was wondering if you might want to come.” He looks nervous and hopeful.

“Sounds cool,” I say. “Where is it?”

He jots down the name and address of the place. “It’s in the Périphérie, though. Is that going to be a problem?”

I look at him blankly. “Of course not. Why would it be?”

“I don’t know.” He looks me up and down. “You just seem to be adjusting real quickly to this side of town.”

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

I
’m standing in line in the caf when Liv and Max walk by without so much as a glance.

“Liv!” I call out.

She turns and does a double take. “
Eveny?
” she asks. “What happened to you?”

“Holy face-lift,” Max says.

I look down. “I just got a haircut and a facial. No big deal.”

Liv looks me up and down and waits for me to meet her gaze. “You look like a different person,” she says flatly. It’s not a compliment.

I open my mouth to explain, but I’m interrupted by Peregrine’s voice behind me.

“Eveny?” she trills. “Why in the world are you standing in line?”

“Yeah, come on,” Chloe, who of course is standing beside her, cuts in. “Up in the Hickories, Margaux and Arelia are serving smoked salmon blinis and caviar, and they brought Veuve Clicquot today.”

“Veuve what?” I ask.

Peregrine makes a face. “It’s a brand of champagne, Eveny. Obviously.”

How was I supposed to know that? “Well, can Liv and Max come eat with us too?” Liv is glaring at Peregrine, and Max just looks nervous. His eyes dart back and forth between Liv and me.

“I’m sure Liv and Max would prefer to eat with their own people,” Peregrine says. “Isn’t that right, Liv?” Somehow, Peregrine manages to make her name sound like a dirty word.

“Whatever,” Liv mutters, calling Peregrine a few dirty words of her own under her breath. “See you in class, Eveny. Have fun with your new friends.” She storms off, dragging Max behind her.

I start to follow after her, but Chloe grabs my arm. “Let her go,” she says gently. “She’s a nice enough girl, but this is bigger than her. She’s not one of us.” She and Peregrine begin walking away without waiting for me. I glance after Liv and Max, but they’re already gone.

After a moment’s hesitation, I follow Chloe and Peregrine toward the Hickories. I know it’s where I’m supposed to belong, but I can’t help feeling like I’ve just made a mistake.

Arelia and Margaux openly glare at me when I sit down, but when Peregrine tells them to pour me a glass of champagne, Arelia grudgingly does so, and Margaux shovels a spoonful of caviar onto a plate and thrusts it in my general direction. My nose wrinkles when I taste it; it’s salty, and the texture is peculiar.

“Take a sip of your drink,” Peregrine advises. “It brings out the flavor.”

I take a small sip of champagne and am surprised to realize she’s right.

“You forgot the verbena in Eveny’s champagne!” Peregrine says, shooting daggers at Arelia.

“Sorry.” But Arelia doesn’t look sorry at all as she grabs a sprig of purple flowers, leans across the picnic blanket, and shoves it into my drink.

I’m about to ask her if she needs help refilling people’s glasses, but I’m interrupted by the arrival of a cute guy with huge, broad shoulders, dark hair that curls at his ears, and empty-looking brown eyes. His sleeves are rolled up to reveal bulging muscles, and he has a letter jacket slung over his left shoulder. “Hey, baby,” he says dully, plunking down next to Peregrine. He doesn’t look at anyone else; he immediately busies himself with giving her a shoulder massage while sniffing her hair adoringly.

“Oh sorry, Eveny, perhaps you haven’t met Beau yet,” she says. “Beau, this is Eveny. Eveny, Beau.”

Beau grunts what I assume is a greeting, but he doesn’t tear his eyes away from Peregrine for even a millisecond. “Beau Fontenot?” I ask. It’s the name I heard them utter in the cemetery on Wednesday night. I realize in an instant that this is what his part of the charm was about: making him fall blindly in lust with Peregrine.

“Yes.” Peregrine narrows her eyes at me. “Anyhow, as I was saying, people who aren’t in on the Secret of Carrefour are not welcome to eat in the Hickories. This is
our
place.”

“Well, what about Beau?” I ask.

Beau goes on massaging her shoulders lovingly. Peregrine laughs. “Oh, Eveny, he’s so enthralled with me that he’s not listening. Isn’t that right, Beau?”

“Baby, you’re hot,” Beau mumbles robotically.

“See?” Peregrine says.

I glance at Chloe and realize she’s not paying attention to us at all. She’s staring at Justin, who’s sitting down in the courtyard outside the cafeteria, laughing with a few other guys. I turn my focus back to Peregrine. “I thought you didn’t believe in using zandara to make people fall in love with you.”

“Love? Don’t be ridiculous. This is just lust, which is much easier to control. Besides, you’ve been in Carrefour for, like, thirty seconds. I don’t think you’re exactly in a position to judge me.”

“Whatever.” I scoot away from them and toward Chloe. “What’s the matter?” I ask her as I reach her edge of the blanket.

The expression on her face is mournful as she watches Justin. He’s grinning, and from the way the three guys around him are laughing as he talks, I’m guessing he’s telling a joke, which surprises me because this is the first time I’ve ever seen him exhibit anything resembling a personality.

“Did something happen with you two?” I venture.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” she says. “He’s totally ignoring me.”

“At least he’s not hitting on other girls,” I point out. I’m trying to think of something else comforting to say when I realize that his behavior is probably my fault. If Peregrine cast a charm to make Beau fall in love with her that night, Chloe was surely doing the same with Justin. When I dug his doll up, I must have reversed it. “Um, sorry if this is a personal question,” I say, “but did you cast some sort of charm to make him like you?”

Chloe looks at me sharply, but then her face softens and there are tears in her eyes. “Maybe,” she says. “But he liked me before that. I just helped things along. He’s really shy.”