“I’ll read coffee for you.”
“You mean tea?” she asked.
“No. Where I come from, the coffee is so strong that you turn the cup over when you are finished drinking it and read the dregs.”
“I didn’t know they did that in France.”
“I speak French,” he explained, “and my family lived in France, but we come from Morocco. I also speak Arabic.” He whispered the last word and it brushed lazily across her cheek.
She picked up her cello and started walking.
He walked with her. “Do you find me at all interesting?”
“What?” She stopped and looked at him.
“Or maybe you belong to a very serious religious group? One perhaps that does not allow you to talk to the boys?”
“Why would you think that?”
“All this week I’ve been trying to get you to invite me to your house and so far I have had no luck.” He let his hand run down her arm. She felt herself drifting at the sight of his lazy smile. She didn’t move her arm.
“Well?” He stretched slowly, lifting his books over his head. His black turtleneck pulled up and she caught a glimpse of a sun tattooed around his belly button.
“Sure, you can come over.” She cleared her throat and looked down at her fuchsia cashmere tube top and feather-trimmed zebra-print slacks, then smiled flirtatiously. “Would someone into a way serious religion dress the way I do?”
He laughed. The sound was full and rich and made her want to hug him. “That is why I wanted to meet you. You dress like a Christmas tree. I’m an artist. I love color and style. Look down the hallway—you would think they were winter birds, would you not? All black and gray and navy blue. You are from a tropical paradise.”
She hadn’t thought of it before. The sun was shining but the hallways looked dark. Then she glanced at him. He was wearing a tight black turtleneck, black jeans, black boots, and a thick black belt with a curious silver buckle.
“You should talk!” She laughed.
“I like the way you laugh.” He pressed closer to her.
She pushed into his mind for one quick glimpse. She concentrated and was immediately filled with joy. His memories and thoughts were all in French and Arabic. Maybe she could finally have a real boyfriend. No way could she answer this guy’s thoughts. She couldn’t understand a word.
“Of what are you thinking now?” A slow easy smile crossed his face.
“I don’t speak a word of French,” she said. “Or Arabic.”
“That makes you so happy?”
“Maybe.” She tilted her head. “We’ll see.”
“Do you always smile so much?” he asked. “It is as if you have a big secret.”
If he only knew her secrets.
“Yeah, I guess I have a couple secrets,” she teased.
“Tell them to me,” he whispered.
“Can’t.” She shook her head.
“I like your tongue pierce.” He touched her bottom lip.
Her heart flipped. The way he was looking at her, the light touch of his finger on her lip . . .
His face suddenly turned serious and he leaned forward. “I like you, Serena.” His hands caressed her cheeks.
She wanted to kiss him, right there in the middle of the hallway with kids pushing all around them.
He fixed his eyes on her as if he could read her thoughts and he grabbed her free hand. “I want my invitation first.”
“Zahi.” She tried to say his name as if she hadn’t practiced it in front of her mirror at home. “Why don’t you come over to my house tonight?”
He leaned closer and she wondered if he was going to kiss her. Then she heard a commotion down the hallway, and the moment was gone.
They broke apart and turned. Morgan was walking toward them. She wore a leather maxi coat over a slinky short red dress, and black suede boots that came above her knees. Her hair was all sunlight and shimmer. Every guy turned his head and made a comment or gave a whistle as she passed.
Zahi stared at Morgan. He probably had a major crush on her, like most of the guys at school.
“Ah, Morgan,” Serena commented dryly.
“You are prettier.” He playfully touched her chin.
“I’m afraid that’s not so.”
“Yes, so,” he insisted with a melting smile. “You have class and style that show you think for yourself. Morgan is a page from a fashion magazine.” He touched her arm lightly. “I have to go on to my next class now. The teacher hates late arrivers. I will see you soon, no?” He ran backward, watching her, before he finally turned and sprinted away.
“Class and style,” she whispered after him.
Jimena, Vanessa, and Catty came up behind her. “Why are you looking so dreamy?” Jimena studied her.
“Zahi,” Catty answered with a sly smile. “It’s only completely obvious she likes him.”
“He’s really cute.” Vanessa looked him over appreciatively.
“Serena likes ’em brooding and tortured,” Jimena added.
“He’s artistic,” Serena defended.
“How are you going to kiss him with that barbell through your tongue?” Jimena asked, pushing her playfully.
“Kiss him?” Serena hadn’t really thought about the barbell getting in the way. Would it? She had never gotten to kiss her last boyfriend, and the only other kisses she had had were the awkward pecks from games of spin the bottle in sixth grade, long before she had ever pierced her tongue.
“Isn’t that what couples do?” Vanessa smiled in a pensive kind of way.
“Unless they go invisible,” Catty teased.
“That’s not funny.” Vanessa was still sensitive about the difficulty she’d had kissing Michael. Probably because she was afraid it could happen again.
“Just don’t lick his face like they do in the movies,” Jimena said. “Guys hate that.”
“How do you know?” Catty joked. “Have you licked someone’s face?”
“Listen to the voice of experience,” Jimena bragged. “Don’t lean in too fast—you’ll chip your teeth. And if he shoves his tongue down your throat—”
“Gross!” Vanessa, Catty, and Serena said in unison.
“This is real life, chicas.” Jimena crossed her arms. “You want to hear or not?”
Serena raised her hand. “Yeah, I want to hear,”
“Me, too,” Vanessa chimed in.
“If he jams his tongue in your mouth, pull away and smile at him. He’ll figure it out if you keep doing that.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“Then you stick the tip of your tongue into his mouth so he can see that a kiss is not supposed to require a Heimlich maneuver.”
“You guys are pathetic,” a voice said snidely.
They turned and Morgan was standing by her locker. “If you like someone it comes naturally.”
“Maybe you always kiss guys who have done a lot of smooching.” Catty grinned wickedly. “The rest of us date guys who aren’t disease-ridden.”
“That’s so not funny,” Morgan said. “Besides, when have you ever had a date, Catty?”
“No seas pesada,” Jimena muttered in a low voice.
“What?” Morgan twisted her head around.
“She said don’t be a pain in the butt, Morgan.” Catty arched her brows. “You going to do something about it?”
Morgan glanced at Jimena.
Jimena held her head back and glared at her.
“Who’s planning on getting kissed, anyway?” Morgan pulled a strawberry gloss from her locker and rubbed it on her lips.
No one answered her.
“It’s not like I’m not going to find out,” she said and eyed Jimena as if she were the enemy.
Jimena cocked her head and folded her arms over her chest.
Catty rolled her eyes. “Since when is it your business, anyway?”
Morgan pulled her books from her locker. “As if I really care.” She looked at them derisively. “You going to be
home this afternoon, Serena?”
“Yeah, maybe, why?”
“No reason.” Morgan slammed her locker closed and slunk back down the hallway.
“Man, that girl gets on my nerves.” Serena watched Morgan stroll away from them.
Vanessa spoke up. “You guys should give her a chance.”
They all turned and looked at Vanessa in disbelief.
“She only, like, tried to steal Michael from you,” Serena pointed out.
“And I bet she still would,” Catty added.
The bell rang and they all ran for class.
Serena quickly forgot about Morgan and started planning for Zahi’s visit. She wondered if she should bake chocolate chip cookies. She decided to stop on the way home and buy some chocolate chips at Ralph’s.
Serena stared out the kitchen window. The smells of freshly baked cookies wafted through the kitchen. A pale gibbous moon hung in the sky, even though the sun hadn’t set yet.
“These cookies are your best ever,” Jimena said behind her and spread her khaki pants on the table. “We should start selling them. Seriously.”
The back door opened and Collin walked in.
“Hey,” he said. His nose and lips were still covered with white zinc oxide.
“Oye, Serena, a payaso just walked into your kitchen!”
“Don’t you ever go home?” Collin looked annoyed. He scooped up a handful of cookies.
“Those cookies aren’t for you,” Jimena informed him. “They’re for Zahi.”
“Zahi?” Collin asked. “Who’s that?”
Serena felt herself panic. Now Collin would know a boy was coming over. Would he play guardian as usual?
“Zahi is a friend of Serena’s,” Jimena explained.
Collin looked at Serena. “Have I ever met this guy?”
“No.” Serena kept her voice light. “He just moved here.”
Collin sat down at the table. “Maybe I’d better meet him, then.”
“Don’t you have a life of your own?” Jimena mocked. “If you got a girlfriend, you wouldn’t need to play chaperone to Serena.”
Collin glared at her. “Yeah, I need a pain in the butt like you.”
Jimena’s eyes sparked with fire.
“Would you guys stop?” Serena couldn’t take it anymore.
Collin glanced at the clock. “Later,” he blurted and left the kitchen.
“He’s such a little—” Jimena started.
Serena interrupted her. “Do you ever think that the reason the two of you clash all the time is because you secretly like each other?”
“Mira, Serena.” Jimena laughed. “You can read my mind, so you know that’s not the truth.”
The doorbell rang.
Serena ran to answer it, hoping to find Zahi. She swung the door open. Morgan stood on the tiled porch, looking at the faded ceramic frogs and trolls under the prickly pear cactus near the door.
“Morgan?” Serena couldn’t hide her disappointment.
“A hello would work fine.” Morgan walked in confidently.
“What do you want?” Serena hated the way Morgan kept looking around her trying to see inside.
Morgan waved a twenty-dollar bill. “I want you to read the cards for me.” She was still dressed the way she had been at school.
Serena stared at her.
“Please,” Morgan pleaded more softly.
Serena shook her head. “The psychic shop is closed.” But she gently pushed into Morgan’s mind to find out why she had really come over. It was a mess inside, with half-completed thoughts and lots of worries. She always expected Morgan to be serene on the inside. That’s what she projected outward. But it was only for show. Serena pushed around the surface thoughts, going deeper, trying to find a thought to hold on to and follow. Big speech at the prep rally on Thursday. Shopping. Credit card limit. Credit card limit?! Serena didn’t even have a credit card. Then she found what she was looking for. Morgan liked Collin. She more than liked him. No way did Serena want Collin to become one of Morgan’s trophies.
“Serena.” The word came to her softly at first. Then someone was shouting in her ear. Reluctantly, she left Morgan’s mind.
“What happened to you?” Morgan rubbed her temples as if she had felt Serena inside her head. “You looked like you were in a trance or something.”
“Just thinking.”
“Well, will you read the cards for me?” Morgan snapped impatiently.
“Sure.” Serena closed the front door as a plan came to her. It was wrong. She shouldn’t. But she had to keep Morgan away from Collin.
“It’s dark in here,” Morgan complained.
“So turn on a light.” Serena started down the hallway. She didn’t want Morgan to see the smile on her face and get suspicious.
Morgan flicked on a light switch. A blaze of light sparkled from the chandelier hanging over the entrance. She followed Serena down the unlit hallway and through the dark dining room, turning on lights. Finally they pushed through a swinging door and entered the yellow kitchen, which smelled of freshly baked cookies.
Wally was curled on the table near the khaki pants Jimena had laid out. She was cutting the legs open up to the crotch so she could sew the panels together to make a long skirt.
“That’s so gross,” Morgan commented.
“What?” Serena wondered if Morgan was talking about the skirt Jimena was making.
“The raccoon,” Morgan said with disgust. “They have diseases, you know, ones humans can catch.”
“I take him to the vet every few months.”
“It’s probably against the law anyway.”
“So what you going to do about it?” Jimena put down her scissors and stared at Morgan.
Wally seemed to sense the tension between them. He climbed off the table and scuttled flatfooted toward Morgan. She backed up, fanning the bottom of her coat to shoo him away.
Jimena laughed and Morgan glared at her.
Serena took the plate of cookies to the table. “Here, have one. I just made them.”
Morgan looked at the cookies as if they were rat-poison. “No thanks.” She carefully brushed off a chair before she seated herself.
Serena sat on the other side and shuffled the cards four times. She set the deck in front of Morgan. “Divide the cards into three stacks with your left hand.”
Morgan looked at Jimena. “This is private, all right?”
“Sure.” Jimena gave her a fake smile. She picked up the pants and left the room.
Morgan divided the cards into three stacks, but her eyes kept glancing at the back door as if she expected Collin to walk in any minute.
Serena took the cards and wondered what Morgan would do if she knew Collin was upstairs. Probably find a reason to go upstairs and accidentally stumble into his bedroom.
Serena flipped the first card and didn’t bother to look at the face of the card.
“You’re here about a guy,” she announced as if she had read it in the card.
Morgan smiled and seemed impressed.
“Oh, no.” Serena gasped as she turned the next card over.
“What?” Morgan immediately leaned forward. How could anyone look so perfect?
“He doesn’t like you.” Serena shrugged apologetically. Did he? In reality she didn’t know how Collin felt about Morgan.
Something changed in Morgan’s eyes then. Was she sad? Morgan? Serena actually started to feel sorry for her. She pushed back into Morgan’s mind to see and found something that surprised her. Jealousy. Morgan was jealous of her? Serena Killingsworth? She examined the feeling closely, surprised by how much Morgan admired the way Serena dressed, and how she wished she were talented like Serena. Serena softened a little. She slowly left Morgan’s mind and turned the next card. She started to say there was still a chance, but before she could, Morgan spoke.
“You know, Serena,” Morgan chided, “you really should do something about the way you dress. It’s a complete embarrassment to your bro
ther.”
Serena’s mouth fell open. Was it? Had Collin told Morgan that? Frantically, she shoved back into Morgan’s head and pushed through her thoughts, trying to find a memory of a conversation that Morgan might have had with Collin when he told her that Serena embarrassed him. When she didn’t find it, she stopped and pulled away from Morgan’s mind.
Morgan looked at her strangely. “Do you have any aspirin?” she asked.
Serena searched through the cupboards, then came back with two aspirin and a glass of water. She handed them to Morgan.
Morgan tossed the aspirin in her mouth and sipped the water.
Collin came back in the kitchen. He had changed into vans and khakis and the vintage rayon Hawaiian shirt with palm trees and beaches that Serena had bought him at Aardvark’s.
“Hi, Collin.” Morgan’s headache seemed to have vanished miraculously. She crossed her legs, exposing a nice slice of tan thigh above her boots.
Collin was surprised to see her. Unhappy? No. He looked at Morgan with real joy. “Hey, whatcha been up to?”
Morgan looked at Serena. “I guess your cards got confused.”
“What?” Collin asked.
“Serena was just trying to mess up my life.” Morgan stood and started playing with the buttons on Collin’s shirt.
“I just say what the cards tell me,” Serena lied.
Morgan shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I’m so used to your jealousy that it doesn’t even bother me anymore.”
“What? I’ve never been jealous of you.”
“Oh, please.” Morgan waved her off. “It’s so obvious, the way you look at me.”
Serena looked from Morgan to Collin. She expected Collin to defend her but instead he looked at her as if she had disappointed him.
She knew she shouldn’t do it. Maggie had taught her never to use her gift to her advantage, especially when it could hurt someone. Too bad. She rammed into Morgan’s mind again, searching until she found the speech she was supposed to give at the pep rally on Thursday. With one tiny zap, the speech Morgan had worked so hard on was pushed behind the memory of her sixth-grade Christmas party, when she had stuffed her bra with Kleenex. Serena hadn’t perfected this part of her power yet, so Morgan would probably remember some of her speech. But no way was she going deliver it with the usual smooth Morgan confidence. Serena backed out, satisfied.