“Curse me all you want, but I’ll freeze you again if you don’t answer my question. Why were you pretending to be Gray?”
“I was under a spell!” Charlene screamed.
“Who did the spell?”
“No freaking idea! You are so going to pay for using magic on me, McKenna. The coven should strip you of your powers like they did to Adrian Montez. You shouldn’t even be allowed to pull a bunny from a top hat. No wonder your mom took off and left you.”
Raj fluttered his lashes and yawned. He turned and headed back inside. “Nice chatting.”
“Asshole!” Charlene called after him.
Her words barely registered in his mind. Why would someone want to make Charlene think she was her sister? It had to be an April Fools’ joke. That was the most likely explanation. Witches and warlocks could be brutal on the first of April. They had it in their powers to pull some pretty elaborate pranks.
Then there was the other explanation—the one Raj didn’t want to dare dream of. Maybe someone had managed to bring Graylee to life temporarily. It was a far easier feat to accomplish than a resurrection. Both were virtually unheard of. The girl he’d seen had certainly dressed like Graylee Perez. He had no clue if she’d behaved like Gray. All he’d caught was a fleeting glimpse of her running. She’d looked frightened.
Like she’d been awakened from the dead.
Raj had to face the facts—Gray was gone. Death was final. Even the death of a witch.
There was only one thing left to do: find the sick freak who’d performed the spell on Charlene and make them pay.
Chapter Twelve
The worst thing about being Charlene wasn’t the hair or even the miniskirt—it was hanging out with her friends.
Don’t think of it as being Charlene, her mom had instructed, imagine yourself as an actress on Glee… without the singing and dancing.
Gray reached around to her backside for the tenth time that morning. It felt like her pleated skirt was tucked inside her underwear, but alas, it was just really short. That was why she kept feeling a cool draft on her bare bronzed legs. Leave it to Charlene to come up with a tanning spell. Charlene hadn’t figured out how to make it permanent, though, and it had to be “applied” every morning—like putting on clothes.
“Oh my god, Char, you look great,” Kiki said.
Time for her lines and they didn’t include “Thanks.”
“How else would I look?”
Kiki giggled.
Apparently being rude wasn’t just clever, but witty as well.
Brittany smirked. Her skirt was equally micro, but her legs were shorter, which made it less obvious.
“Hi, beautiful.” Blake approached from behind and wrapped his arms around Gray. Spiced clove filled her nostrils. She wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be deodorant or cologne. Blake’s arms tightened and he squeezed her against his torso and thighs.
Gray resisted the urge to swat him away or stomp on his foot. This became increasingly difficult when one hand slid down to her backside.
Thank god for Charlene’s No Sex with Blake rule or Gray might just throw herself at him. Gag!
Gray took a step forward. “God, Blake, can’t you keep your hands to yourself for one second?”
He grinned. “Not when you’re around.”
Kiki giggled.
Gray heard the snap of a lighter and turned her head. Raj McKenna was walking by. Gray’s heart pounded inside her ribcage, but Raj barely glanced at her. She watched him pass and then stared at his back. It was almost as if she’d imagined him calling out her name and running after her the week before.
Her real name.
How had Raj known?
Obviously he didn’t think that was the case now, unless his nonchalance was an act. Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach as he rounded the corner.
Gray was dead to the rest of the world. Literally.
Brittany looped her arm around Gray’s and took off with her down the hall. “Does Blake know you hooked up with Todd Hanson?” She didn’t even bother whispering.
“What?” Gray glanced quickly over her shoulder, but Blake and Kiki were no longer standing by their lockers.
She tried to think fast. Charlene hadn’t made any notations about Todd Hanson. Why would she hook up with the senior basketball captain when she was in love with Blake?
“I don’t think so,” Gray said. She turned to Brittany. “Do you?”
Brittany considered this for several seconds before scrunching up her pert nose. “Naw.”
“Todd is really hot,” Gray said, fishing for information.
“I’d do him.”
Not the kind of information she was looking for.
“Do you think Blake would dump me if he found out?”
“Whatever. It’s not like you two are exclusive. If he can screw Jenna Hocking you have every right to go get some hot senior ass.”
Gray nearly choked. “Jenna Hocking! But she’s ugly.” Okay, so that was rude, but at least she sounded like Charlene. And Jenna Hocking? The girl was bucktoothed and frizzy haired. Sure, she had jugs the size of melons, but it was a bit hard to believe that Blake Foster would sleep with her—not when he’d snagged the school’s beauty queen, Stacey Morehouse. So this was the soap opera that was her sister’s life? Gray wanted to ask how Charlene had won Blake back from Stacey’s clutches, but couldn’t think of a way to ask without sounding like she had just stepped out of Looneyville.
Brittany laughed. “I know, right. You showed Blake by hooking up with Todd.”
Gray stopped suddenly. “I need to go to first period biology.”
“See you in fourth,” Brittany said.
Gray unfolded her cheat sheet.
First period biology with Mr. Darling. B Hall, room 104. Sit next to Ryan.
Gray turned down B Hall. Ryan was already seated five rows back, boring holes into her with his big, round eyes. A student’s pen rolled off a desk as Gray made her way back. She knelt down, bending at the knees so she wouldn’t flash her panties at everyone behind her.
The girl’s eyes widened from behind her glasses when Gray handed the pen back. “Thanks,” she squeaked.
Ryan was frowning at Gray. “What?” she demanded as she took her seat.
“That’s not something your sister would do.”
So Ryan was aware of their entanglement. Gray should have been relieved that someone knew—if only that someone had been anyone other than Ryan Phillips.
“Yeah, well my sister’s a bitch,” Gray said.
Ryan winced. “That’s not nice and it’s not true, either. You just don’t know her like I do.”
“Sure, I don’t know my twin sister as well as the boy she barely hangs out with.” Gray dumped Charlene’s messenger bag on the floor beside her desk. “So Charlene told you about our little dilemma?”
Ryan looked like he was inspecting Gray as she spoke. “Yes, and she’s given me the task of helping you out on the days you’re… you.”
“You mean she wants you to keep tabs on me?”
Ryan shrugged. “We have three classes together.”
“Lucky me.”
“You didn’t say anything suspicious to Blake or Brittany this morning, did you?”
“I don’t think so.” Gray smoothed her cheat sheet over her desk. She’d already looked it over a dozen times, but she kept forgetting what order her classes were in. It was like the first day of school. After biology, she noticed, Gray had Advanced French with Madame Girard. Just great. Gray knew two words of French: bonjour and oui.
Gray glanced back over at Ryan. He was still staring at her.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Gray chuckled to herself. “Hey, what’s the deal with Charlene and Blake?”
“They’re going out.”
“Uh, yeah, but they weren’t before I died.” Ryan managed to break eye contact when she said the last word. The eyes in his pear-shaped face darted around the room before ret
urning to her. “Rooftop—Charlene threatening to jump. Ring any bells?”
“Blake Foster realized the error of his ways.”
“Ah, a spell, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t a spell!” Ryan spit out. He squirmed once more when the girl in the seat in front of him glanced back. “Look,” Ryan said in a whisper, “Blake felt really bad for your sister after she lost you. He’s been a great comfort to her during this time of tragedy.”
Tragedy, indeed, if the only outcome of Gray’s death was to bring her sister and Blake Foster back together.
“What about Todd Hanson?”
“What about him?”
“Brittany says he and Charlene hooked up.”
Gray could’ve sworn she saw Ryan wince. He lifted his round chin. “I don’t think that’s really either of our business.”
Gray hid a grin. “So I should deny any accusations?”
Ryan’s forehead wrinkled. “Who’s accusing you?”
“No one. Well, except Brittany. And it wasn’t so much of an accusation as a statement.”
“Good morning, class,” Mr. Darling called out.
Gray faced forward and ignored Ryan for the rest of the period. She meant to stride out of the room without him after the bell rang, but he caught her elbow. His words hissed inside her ear. “Look, it’s a well-known fact that Charlene and Blake aren’t exclusive. For whatever reason, he makes her happy, but that doesn’t mean she has to remain chaste while he screws around. That’s all you need to know.”
“And Charlene’s okay with him sleeping around?”
Ryan shifted in place and looked around. Gray sighed and was about to start walking again when Ryan leaned forward to whisper. “Charlene says leniency is the key to a successful relationship.”
Gray rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah? Dr. Perez ought to write a book on the subject.”
Ryan started blinking again.
“Okay, whatever.” Gray was getting tired of his ineptitude. She would have been better off with him not knowing who she was. The lameoid hadn’t even asked how she, Graylee Perez, was doing or welcomed her back to the world of the living. Gray was a magical marvel. The least Ryan could do was act impressed rather than waste her time with this ridiculous high school melodrama.
Gray climbed the stairs to second period French class with Madame Girard. Charlene had made a notation to sit beside Trish Roberts—the girl who’d stolen Hart Hensley.
This day was just getting better and better.
But when Gray walked into class, there was no sign of Trish.
Now what?
Shay Baxter and Max Curry were seated side by side in the front row. Gray walked past them. Her eyes raced around the room and came to a skidding halt when they landed on Nolan Knapp.
Charlene had French with Nolan?
Two witches and two warlocks—quite the little gathering in French class. Shay Baxter was no surprise, but Gray would have seen Nolan as more of a fun, fiesta Spanish sort. French tended to attract stuck-ups like Shay and Charlene.
Gray walked back to where Nolan was seated and slipped into the desk beside him. He glanced at her and then back at a piece of paper on his desk. It looked like he was drawing cartoons with captions—or so it appeared from the corner of Gray’s eye.
She crossed her legs, hitting her knee against the underbelly of her desk as she did so. Gray cursed softly. Nolan kept doodling.
She managed to get the leg over the other one and began shaking her foot.
The final bell rang and Madame Girard walked to the front of the class. “Bonjour,” she called out in a booming voice.
“Bonjour, Madame,” the class chorused.
Bonjour. That was a word Gray recognized. So far, so good, though she would have been better off in Señora Gomez’s Spanish class in room 156 on the first floor.
The French teacher looked around the room. Gray slouched in her seat. “Monsieur Curry, qu’avez-vous fait cette fin de semaine?”
“J’ai fait mes devoirs. J’ai nettoyé ma chambre et j’ai cuisiné le diner—J’ai aussi étudier pour le français.”
Everyone chuckled.
Great, so not only was everyone semi-fluent, but they were making jokes.
“Bon!” Madame Girard said.
So maybe Gray knew three French words. She knew bon was “good.”
“Now, I want you to find a partner and take turns telling each other what you did over the weekend.”
Okay, the fact that the instructions were said in English was appreciated, but partner? Speak French? There was no way Gray was going to pull this off.
Without thinking, she turned to Nolan. “Be my partner.”
The pen stilled in his hand. His face flushed. “Yeah,” he said. “Sure.”
Gray couldn’t tell if he was just really bashful or what. “I didn’t know you liked to draw,” she said.
Nolan took the drawing he’d been working on and slipped it inside a folder. “Um, yeah.”
“That’s cool.”
He looked up and really stared at her this time. Gray smiled big—a smile that said, I’m keeping a mega secret.
“J’écoute les etudiants parler en anglais,” Madame Girard cried. “En français s’il vous plait. Raconter votre fin de semaine à votre camarade.”
Gray met Nolan’s eye. “You first.”
“J’ai regardé la télévision. J’ai nourri mon poisson… Je me suis lavé les cheveux. J’ai dessiné. J’ai rencontré des amis.” Nolan glanced upwards as he thought. “J’ai mangé,” Nolan finished after he’d thought for a while. “Et toi?”
Gray had no idea what Nolan was mumbling on about.
“Yo estaba vivo.”
Nolan’s forehead wrinkled in confusion.
“It’s Spanish,” Gray whispered. She leaned closer. Her eyes locked with Nolan’s. “It means I was alive.”
Nolan stared back. It was nice to look into his eyes again even if she could see that the information she wanted to convey wasn’t registering.
“Alive is good,” Gray continued, sounding like a foreign student on the other side of the globe attempting basic English.
“Mademoiselle Perez,” their teacher called from the front of the room.
Gray hit her knee a second time, sitting up in attention.
“Why don’t you share what you did over the weekend with the class?”
Gray could feel her eyes widening like saucers over her face. “Uh, oui,” she began. Her eyes darted around the room—all those faces staring at her. If only she could channel her mother, who spoke French better than most natives. Gray sent out a silent plea, but no one answered her SOS.
Madame Girard tapped her foot.
Gray cleared her throat. “I went to zee restaurant with my mozther.” Maybe if she spoke with an accent the class wouldn’t notice her words were in English.
There was a giggle. No, apparently everyone was on to her. Shay and Max had turned fully in their chairs to look at her.
Gray looked at the French teacher and shrugged helplessly.
She raised one very domineering brow. “Amusant, Mademoiselle Perez. En français cette fois.”
“Oui.”
Someone snorted. French pig.
Gray cleared her throat. “May I please be excused?”
“Pourquoi?”
Gray glanced at Nolan. Why, he mouthed. She looked back at Madame Girard. “Because I’m going to throw up!” she cried suddenly. It was impromptu, not really something out of Glee, unless she was playing the impregnated Quinn. It did succeed in getting her out of French class, though. Blowing chunks was disgusting in any language.
Chapter Thirteen
In her haste to leave behind the humiliation that was French class—let Charlene smooth that one out tomorrow—Gray forgot her, or rather Charlene’s, messenger bag. In hindsight, it was a bit like one of those cheesy maneuvers from a romantic comedy. Though when Nolan walked up with her bag after class she had to admit it worked like a
charm.
Gray waited across the hall for the dismissal bell to ring.
She folded her arms over her chest and stared down any classmate who dared glance her way, including Shay Baxter. Once Nolan walked out with her bag she dropped her arms. He smiled as he crossed the hall and handed the bag over.
“Thanks, I couldn’t go back in there,” Gray said.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Um.” Nolan looked at his feet.
“Just kidding,” Gray said. “God, that was humiliating.”
Nolan swept his bangs back. “What happened?”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Gray said, staring down the hall. “I don’t know French. Well, besides bonjour, oui, and now pourquoi.” She looked at Nolan. “Do you think there’s a spell for instant language fluency?”
Nolan’s brows jumped. He looked around quickly and stepped closer to Gray. “Maybe we shouldn’t be talking about that around here.”
Gray stared him in the eyes. What she really wanted was to tell him she was back. If Charlene could tell Ryan, Gray ought to be allowed to tell Nolan. The hallway probably wasn’t the right place to do it. Nolan already looked startled that she’d addressed him at all. Was Charlene that intimidating? And he’d all but had an epileptic fit when she mentioned the word magic in public. Imagine his reaction if she did something really crazy like go invisible?
Gray instantly thought of Raj. He delighted in magical misbehavior. But McKenna was still an unsolved mystery. Why had he run after her one day and ignored her the next?
Some questions were better left unanswered.
Nolan Knapp suddenly seemed feeble-minded compared to Raj. Live a little. That was Gray’s philosophy since dying, anyway. She lifted her chin. “Have I said something to make you uncomfortable? My, what a good little warlock you are.”
She saw his frown deepen, whether at being called a warlock in public or the obvious set down she couldn’t be sure. “Merci for the assistance with my bag.”
Hey, she knew a fifth French word.
Gray turned on her heel and walked away before Nolan could answer. She wanted to believe that her snooty words were all part of the act she was putting on, but the truth was Nolan had frustrated her.
As promised, Ryan appeared in two more of her classes. Before the day was out Gray had been groped no less than ten times by Blake, gotten slapped on the ass by Pete Sutherland (just how many guys was her sister sleeping with at school?), endured Brittany and Kiki’s mean-spirited blather, and worst yet, had nothing but a chocolate Slim Fast for lunch. At least Blake spent lunch with his homeboys. If he’d tried to feel her up in the cafeteria, Gray would’ve been way too tempted to throw the shake in his face.