The Zodiac Collector Read online

  Mary and I glance at one another.

  I shrug. “Haven’t really planned anything yet.”

  “Hard to with studying.”

  “Yeah.”

  He scrunches his face like he’s working out an algebra problem in his head. “Let’s see. Your birthday is in late June… That makes you guys Gemini, right?”

  “That’s right. You into the Zodiac?”

  He shrugs. “A little. I play this Zodiac-based RPG and the characters traits are based on their sign and constellations. Each sign has its own power—water, air, fire, earth—and Pet System. Like the Gemini are pretty good warriors. They use windstorms, and their Pet System is a horse.” He pats the mare’s neck.

  “You know a lot about Gemini.”

  The corner of his mouth ticks up. “It’s important for strategy.”

  “Which sign are you?”

  “I stick with Aries. It’s a cardinal fire sign. I get lots of extras with that one.”

  “Is that your real sign?”

  “Yep.”

  “Cool.”

  Mary, who’s been quiet so far, nudges closer. “Anne’s an expert on the Zodiac. Once you get her started on it, she can’t shut up. Seriously, she can tell you any fact you’d never want to know.”

  I frown at her. “Very funny.”

  “I’m just saying.” She tips her head so her hair hides her face from Shequan’s view and gives me a what-the-triple-heck-are-you-doing look.

  I glare at her.

  “Bet I can out-talk you.” He gives the mare more hay and adjusts the noseband of her halter.

  Mary tucks her hair behind her ear. “Please, don’t give her a dare.”

  Shequan laughs.

  I open my mouth to lob a comeback and Mary gives me another look. The snark dies on my lips and coats them like sticky gloss. Geez, one flirt fest with Evan has given some sort of super power—Confidence Girl with the power to steal retorts and fizzle arguments with one stare.

  For once, I let Mary cart me off. Though I’ll admit, I’m so curious to ask her why she freaked about Zodiac chat, getting her one on one will give me an opportunity. I wave ’bye to Shequan. “So…I guess we’ll see you around the faire.”

  “Sure.” He unties the mare, who’s now sporting a fourth shoe, and walks her toward the stable.

  “Meet you girls at the shoppe?” Dad snuffs the fire in his forge and helps Marcus lift the anvil into the truck bed.

  “Yep.” Mary nods.

  I wait until we’re out of earshot. “What happened back there?”

  “Why do you always have to go on and on about Zodiac stuff?”

  “Just like you go on about photography?”

  She pouts. “Touché.”

  “Besides, Shequan brought it up.”

  “I don’t want you wrangling him into this.” She twists her arms and wiggles her fingers.

  “Wrangle? He’s not a wild bull and I’m not a cowboy.”

  “You know what I mean.” She tucks her hands into the rear pockets of her jeans.

  “Actually, I don’t. What makes you think I’m going to ask Shequan to chant with me?”

  “Forget I said anything.” She turns toward Dad’s shoppe.

  I make a beeline for her and bump shoulders. “Hey, if I knew so much about the Zodiac, I’d be able to make a chant work. I’m not going to drag anyone else into this, I promise.”

  She nods, sucking on her bottom lip. “Good. It’s best if you leave this stuff alone.”

  “Why?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Because it isn’t real.”

  “Then how do you explain what happened in our room?”

  She slows. “I don’t know. But I don’t want to try again to find out, either. We pinky swore, remember?”

  “I’m not saying we should chant again.” I leave off right away. Guess I’d have to practice on my own for a while. It’d make spell casting harder. Like Gamma said, we needed to work together for full power.

  Unless I can find a substitute.

  * * *

  I have to take a break from studying. It’s Sunday night, after all. Lots more studying is lined up for tomorrow. I need my strength and I find it in surfing the Internet.

  “I thought you were studying.” Mary lies on her stomach, her upper body propped up on a pillow. Her knees are bent and her lower legs are crossed, sticking up in the air. Her history textbook is open in front of her. She must memorize the pages somehow. I have no other way of explaining how easy straight A’s come for her.

  “I am.” I log on and scroll over my favorite website. New pics from the Magicks page take up most of it. Some are funny, some are inspirational, and some are simply pictures of misty woods and mythical creatures.

  An instant message tab pops up in the bottom right corner. It’s William. My heart digs its heels into my rib cage and makes a leap up my chest.

  He writes: The stars are out tonight.

  I smile, biting my lower lip, and reply: Yeah?

  We should meet and look at them. I’ll bring my telescope.

  I almost squeal. My fingers hover over the keys, humming with eager glee. I want to snap back a “yes” immediately, but don’t want to look desperate like I had at the stable, so I make myself wait. One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand… I clench my fists and sit on them until I hit thirty. Then I type: Where should we meet?

  The park by the fountain. Twenty minutes?

  It’s a farther walk for me, but I don’t mind. See you there!

  Okay.

  I power down the laptop, my mind whirring. “William wants to meet me in the park.”

  “Now? Why?”

  “To look at the stars.” I skip to my closet, hyped on girly giddiness, and yank a light-blue hoodie from its hanger. The days are warm, but the nights cool down. Maybe I should bring some hot chocolate.

  “How romantic,” Mary croons, flopping onto her back and resting a hand on her forehead in a fake faint.

  “Yep.” I lace up my sneakers and give Castor a jovial scratch behind the ears. “See you later.”

  She rolls her eyes, but her smile says she’s happy for me. “Don’t stay out too late.”

  * * *

  I clutch the Thermos to my chest and savor the weight of my backpack against my spine. My heart is pounding between my lungs like a magic jumping bean. William and I hang out all the time, but this is different. A nighttime rendezvous, alone, to look at the stars. Like Mary said, it’s romantic. My lips feel dry. I lick them, thankful that the minty sting of my toothpaste still coats my tongue.

  I find William in the middle of the park, near the water fountain like he’d said. It’s not running, so the night is quiet—except for the chirping of crickets. I wonder what they’re saying to each other.

  “Hi, Anne.” William greets me with his signature dimple-laden smile. He’s got the telescope set up already. A lantern sits next to it, casting a ring of somber yellow light around him. It edges along the fountain’s wall and to the grass on the opposite side.

  I wave. Lame. “I brought some hot chocolate.” I pause. “But I only have the lid for a cup.”

  “No worries. We can share.”

  Right. No big deal. Two friends sharing a cup. We do it all the time. “Cool.”

  He dips his head to the telescope and points it west. “I found Libra. Wanna see?”

  “Sure.” William’s birthday is in October, making him a Libra. True to his sign, he’s laid-back, levelheaded, diplomatic, and just. He always finds a way to get people to compromise and get along. On the flip side, he can’t make a decision to save his life. I peek in the viewfinder and stare at the mass of white dots speckling the black sky. If I trace a line between the stars in the constellation, it looks like a lopsided house drawn by a five-year-old.

  “Wouldn’t it be cool to travel to other galaxies, visit other planets, and feel the heat of different suns?” There’s awe in his voice. It carries wonder and adventure. The shockwave
of it blasts me, inspiring me to dream.

  “We could visit the stars of our Zodiac signs. Alpha, Beta, and Gamma Librae.” I step away from the telescope and point to each star in the constellation. “Then Castor and Pollux.” I have nowhere to point because they’re not visible from our location.

  “They say a planet in the Librae system could sustain life.” He grins.

  “We could inhabit another world.”

  “Yeah, one without SATs.”

  We laugh. He stares at me so intently I squirm like a butterfly under a microscope. Heat rushes to my cheeks and anxiety pools in my belly.

  “Er, you seem deep in thought,” I croak.

  “You looked really pretty, wearing that dress.”

  Right there, without warning, my heart melts. The lack of blood flowing through my body creates a sharp ringing in my ears. I press a shaky finger to my temple as if it’ll stop my brain from exploding. He’d commented about how Mom’s dress brought out the color of my eyes, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about looking pretty.

  “Are you okay?” He drapes his hands on my shoulders. So gentle. His touch shatters me.

  “Y-yeah.” I lie. I mean, I’m not complaining about him being so close to me that I can smell his soap or feel the heat of his breath on my cheeks. It’s one hundred percent, completely what I want. Which is what makes me not okay. We’re best friends. Have been since we were in diapers. This is new territory and I don’t know how to act.

  Maybe there’s a spell for that.

  * * *

  I slip my backpack off as soon as I reach the top of the porch stairs. Slinking to the far corner, past Dad’s rusty bench, I drop to my knees and steady my breathing. Mary would flip out if she knew what I’m about to do.

  Huddling in the dark like a robber planning a break-in, I unzip my backpack and draw out a candle and book of matches. It takes three tries to get the wick to light. I scrape the wax off the stardust bottle’s top with my thumbnail. The cork sticks and I have to wiggle it back and forth. It comes free with a soft thunk.

  My stomach tumbles like an Olympic gymnast. I still haven’t had a chance to practice spells with Gamma and the last one was a mess. This would probably go better with Mary, but she doesn’t want any part of it. I take a deep breath and begin.

  “Four elements of the Zodiac,

  Earth, fire, water, air.

  Gemini twins,

  Castor and Pollux.

  Hear my plea.

  Help me figure out

  How to make William and me be!”

  I tip the bottle toward the flame, my hand shaking. Am I really doing this?

  Yep.

  With a flick of my wrist, a flurry of glitter rains down. It sizzles on contact with the melted wax and the candle almost goes out. Then the sizzling grows louder and the fire brightens, at first to a pale yellow, then a bright white.

  I expect it to die down, but it doesn’t. Instead, the light keeps getting more dazzling, more blinding, more… star-like.

  I lean back, squinting. This isn’t normal. I gulp. The old woman, Zeena, couldn’t really have given us real stardust. She couldn’t be a real witch. A kooky chuckle gurgles up my chest and past my lips.

  The candle starts wobbling all by itself. There’s no wind, no earthquake, no reason whatsoever for the thing to move on its own. Except for magick.

  “Holy Castor and Pollux,” I blurt. Had I listened to Mary and tossed the stuff away, I wouldn’t be here, crouching on my front porch, caught in a spell beyond my control.

  With a loud crack, the candle explodes and…

  …disappears.

  I’m surrounded by all-encompassing darkness, like the sky without stars.

  Chapter Nine

  Ms. Sutters, Math Teacher Extraordinaire, goes at the whiteboard with her marker like a butcher hacking into a rack of ribs. Red ink smears across the surface in symbols and letters that are supposed to make some sort of sense. Maybe they do to a smart person. Me, on the other hand, I can’t organize a math problem from start to finish, even if my life depends on it.

  The teacher walks us through the problem and adds another for us to practice. I copy the wonky mess and stare at it, mouth slack. I squeeze the daylights out of my wizard’s-staff-shaped pencil. There’s no way a solution will come out of this. Maybe the ghost of a math whiz will possess my hand and scrawl something across the page and help me out, ‘cause I sure as heck can’t.

  After five agony-filled minutes, I drop my pencil and smash my cheek against my notebook with a groan.

  Mary jerks and the tip of her pencil snaps off. She purses her lips and glares at me.

  I wince. “Sorry.”

  “Quiet,” Ms. Sutters wanders down our row. She pauses between Mary and me. Vanilla and cinnamon drift off her, and my nose tingles with a sneeze. Her brown bob ends precisely at her jaw, straight and boring like her boxy, plain white shirt and navy pants. She peers down her aardvark-like schnoz at me.

  “I was apologizing for startling my sister,” I explain.

  Her thin lips grow thinner. “Why don’t you go up to the board and solve the equation?”

  My head whips back and forth. “No way, I can’t.”

  Her arched brow climbs her forehead. “Try it. The class will help you.”

  Swallowing my pride and begging my knees to hold me up, I slide out of my seat and do the dead-man-walking march to the whiteboard.

  My fingers curl around the red marker. I yank off the cap and raise the point to the space beneath the math problem. My vision blurs as I search for something recognizable. Surely, I can get the problem started. A wheeze shivers in my chest. I need to start writing. I need to save face.

  Soft snickers trickle behind me. My ears combust and sweat bursts from my body.

  Ms. Sutters claps once. “Let’s be productive, class, not judgmental. Shequan, give Anne a hand.”

  I grind my teeth at the scrape of metal chair legs against tile floor. Quick footsteps move in and Shequan appears at my side. He picks up a blue marker, gives me an easy smile without any hint of pity, and explains the solution to me while scribbling across the board almost as fast as Sutters had.

  “Can you take the test for me?” I whisper as he underlines his final answer.

  His grin flashes brighter. “No, but I can teach you a trick to solving these problems. Come find me during lunch, okay?”

  I nod. “Thanks.”

  He drops the marker on the rack and saunters to his desk.

  I turn to follow him, but Ms. Sutters extends a hand.

  “Wait. I’ll put another equation on the board for you to practice on.” Her clunky heels pound the floor, sealing my fate step by step.

  I stand there, frozen to the ground, in front of the class, wishing I could melt into the wall and disappear.

  There’s no way I’m going to solve any equation, let alone pass the exam.

  * * *

  “I think the girls would like riding lessons.” Dad’s voice carries from inside, through the screen door, to the porch where Mary and I halt, striking awkward poses—arms mid-swing and legs half in the air—like we used to while playing Red Light, Green Light.

  “Horses are dangerous animals. Besides, we can’t afford lessons,” Mom says. They must be in her studio. I can’t imagine she’d be anywhere else, considering she only leaves the room to pee or grab some food.

  “Marcus is a good trainer. They’ll be in good hands. It’s for their birthdays. They deserve something nice; they’re good kids.” He’s pleading with her. I gotta give Dad props for defending us.

  “It’s not happening!” she screams.

  I catch Mary’s gaze. Her shoulders square with rigid fear while mine slump with disappointment. Mom’s heinous. There’s no reason to hope she’ll change. If I do get a spell to work, she’ll find some way to ruin things, whether it’s my birthday or something else. The proof is in the porridge, since we can’t even go horseback riding. Other kids turning sixteen would b
e begging for a car. Mary and I wanted a nice party and riding lessons. Not a big deal at all, but in Mom’s world both are impossible.

  It’s like she can’t let us be happy. Or maybe she just doesn’t want us to be.

  “You’re being ridiculous, Liz,” Dad says.

  Oh boy. He’s essentially poked the dragon with a stick. My lips curl back from my teeth. Mary takes a reflexive step backward.

  “What?” Mom’s screech is like a handful of razor blades slicing down my spine.

  “You’re out of control. You need to take your medication.” His words settle around me like a shroud. A heavy, confining, restricting shroud. More like a straightjacket, actually. My legs wobble under the weight of it. I tremble, aching to run, but my feet are rooted to the pressure-treated wood under my feet.

  “How dare you!”

  A jet engine would be quieter. Amazing all the glass in the house doesn’t shatter. Something does smash with a jaw-clenching clatter. She must have thrown something.

  “I’ve had enough of your insanity, Liz.” Dad’s heavy stomps fade deeper into the house.

  Mary digs her fingers into my elbow. “We should go.”

  “Where?”

  A steady scamper takes over for the deathly silence inside. Castor and Pollux appear at the screen door. Castor scratches at it and Pollux picks up his plea with a whine. They hate Mom and Dad’s fighting as much as Mary and me.

  “To Grandmother’s.” She retreats slowly, silently, gaze fixed on the door.

  “Good idea.” I open the door, snatching both dogs’ collars before they can make a break for it. Mary takes over dog-handling while I slip inside to grab their leads. I paw at the wall like a cat scratching at a laser dot, gaze locked onto the living room door for any signs that the beast is moving. The first sign would be smoke. Second is the stream of fire.

  “Anne, hurry.”

  With a frown and a lump in my throat, I grip the leashes and escape to the safety of the porch. I attach the clips to the dogs’ collars.

  Mary and I scurry down the driveway.

  The dogs have no trouble keeping up. In fact, they rush ahead of us, quickened by the animal instinct to flee.