faire unleashed a fresh tidal wave of despair. Thanksgiving. Another move. Papo's deadline hung like a guillotine over my neck. After Salem and I performed our scene in Drama, I'd never see her again. Would we spend Christmas in the van or in another soulless, vacant house? And then what?
"Maybe one of the servants gave Bianca the love potion." Salem softened her voice, as if she knew I had gone to a dark place and was coaxing me off the ledge.
"Maybe. Though I like the grimoire idea." I leaned in. "Let's wow people with this play. You know, make it unforgettable." So you won't forget me.
Salem sat up straighter and unfolded her legs. Even encased in her thick-heeled combat boots, her feet didn't quite touch the floor. "You're on." She tapped her pen against her notebook. "So we need something more original, more outside the box." She consulted her copy of Taming of the Shrew . "Hortensio was the older suitor who pretended to be a music teacher to be near Bianca. What if he gave her a book of music, not realizing it was an enchanted ancient grimoire?"
The skin on my nape prickled. "I like it. But where did he get the book from?"
"Maybe he bought it in a used book store, or from a foreign street peddler."
"Sounds plausible." Too plausible. Almost like it actually happened. " Either scenario is fine with me." Our gazes locked. It almost seemed like Salem was trying to read me as much as I was trying to read her. Staring into her ice-blue fairy eyes, my thoughts sidetracked, and my gaze dropped to her lips.
Salem clicked her pen. "One of us should write this down."
My attention swung to her pen, then back up to her eyes. "Want me to do it?"
She hesitated. "No, I will. Just don't make fun of my spelling."
"Promise." I crossed an X over my heart. "I'll type up the final draft. But I'll have to use your computer. Mine's broken."
"I don't have a laptop, but you could come over to my house and use the computer there." Her hopeful expression collapsed. "If my sister is okay. I mean, if she comes home."
Without thinking, I reached across the empty seat and squeezed her hand. Our palms connected, detonating a blast of blue magic. It rippled through my body, resonating in every cell.
Salem dropped her pen. "I, uh…" She glanced about wild-eyed, maybe wondering, like I did, if the explosion had rocked the whole auditorium.
"I'll… find… your pen." I released Salem's hand. The air between us thrummed, thick with expectation. Crouching at Salem's feet, I groped beneath the seat in front of her until I found the ballpoint. I carried it between my thumb and forefinger. Magdalena was sure to sniff me like a hound when I returned. I just hoped I had snatched enough salt to scour every trace of Salem's magic from my skin.
"Found it." I handed over the black ballpoint and returned to my seat. "Which do you want to do first? Outline the three acts, or write the scene we'll perform?"
Salem gaped. I could hear the question screaming in her head: Didn't you feel what I felt?
The bruises along my jaw erupted with pain. I cowered back in my seat. Inside my head I heard Papo's snarl. The clock is ticking, Nico.
"Aidan?"
The room whirled. The blood leached from my face and pooled in my feet. I gripped the armrests to keep from falling. For a second, Magdalena's ring glinted before my eyes. Salem grabbed my arm and screamed my name. Then the auditorium went black.
****
A high-pitched, mosquito-like whine woke me. I swam up from the dark void into the harsh glare of a buzzing fluorescent light. "Man!" I shielded my eyes with my forearm and took mental inventory. A long-forgotten scent permeated the room. Fresh sheets. I rested on something soft — well, softer than a bedroll on the floor. A cot?
"I always thought it would be great to have cute guys fall at my feet. Now, not so much."
Salem. My heart did a choppy kick-start. " So, you think I'm cute?"
"I think you are mental."
"Liar." I lowered my arm just enough to peek out.
"Maybe one of the servants gave Bianca the love potion." Salem softened her voice, as if she knew I had gone to a dark place and was coaxing me off the ledge.
"Maybe. Though I like the grimoire idea." I leaned in. "Let's wow people with this play. You know, make it unforgettable." So you won't forget me.
Salem sat up straighter and unfolded her legs. Even encased in her thick-heeled combat boots, her feet didn't quite touch the floor. "You're on." She tapped her pen against her notebook. "So we need something more original, more outside the box." She consulted her copy of Taming of the Shrew . "Hortensio was the older suitor who pretended to be a music teacher to be near Bianca. What if he gave her a book of music, not realizing it was an enchanted ancient grimoire?"
The skin on my nape prickled. "I like it. But where did he get the book from?"
"Maybe he bought it in a used book store, or from a foreign street peddler."
"Sounds plausible." Too plausible. Almost like it actually happened. " Either scenario is fine with me." Our gazes locked. It almost seemed like Salem was trying to read me as much as I was trying to read her. Staring into her ice-blue fairy eyes, my thoughts sidetracked, and my gaze dropped to her lips.
Salem clicked her pen. "One of us should write this down."
My attention swung to her pen, then back up to her eyes. "Want me to do it?"
She hesitated. "No, I will. Just don't make fun of my spelling."
"Promise." I crossed an X over my heart. "I'll type up the final draft. But I'll have to use your computer. Mine's broken."
"I don't have a laptop, but you could come over to my house and use the computer there." Her hopeful expression collapsed. "If my sister is okay. I mean, if she comes home."
Without thinking, I reached across the empty seat and squeezed her hand. Our palms connected, detonating a blast of blue magic. It rippled through my body, resonating in every cell.
Salem dropped her pen. "I, uh…" She glanced about wild-eyed, maybe wondering, like I did, if the explosion had rocked the whole auditorium.
"I'll… find… your pen." I released Salem's hand. The air between us thrummed, thick with expectation. Crouching at Salem's feet, I groped beneath the seat in front of her until I found the ballpoint. I carried it between my thumb and forefinger. Magdalena was sure to sniff me like a hound when I returned. I just hoped I had snatched enough salt to scour every trace of Salem's magic from my skin.
"Found it." I handed over the black ballpoint and returned to my seat. "Which do you want to do first? Outline the three acts, or write the scene we'll perform?"
Salem gaped. I could hear the question screaming in her head: Didn't you feel what I felt?
The bruises along my jaw erupted with pain. I cowered back in my seat. Inside my head I heard Papo's snarl. The clock is ticking, Nico.
"Aidan?"
The room whirled. The blood leached from my face and pooled in my feet. I gripped the armrests to keep from falling. For a second, Magdalena's ring glinted before my eyes. Salem grabbed my arm and screamed my name. Then the auditorium went black.
****
A high-pitched, mosquito-like whine woke me. I swam up from the dark void into the harsh glare of a buzzing fluorescent light. "Man!" I shielded my eyes with my forearm and took mental inventory. A long-forgotten scent permeated the room. Fresh sheets. I rested on something soft — well, softer than a bedroll on the floor. A cot?
"I always thought it would be great to have cute guys fall at my feet. Now, not so much."
Salem. My heart did a choppy kick-start. " So, you think I'm cute?"
"I think you are mental."
"Liar." I lowered my arm just enough to peek out.
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