Spell For Sophia (24 page)

The silver dime tied to my ankle thrummed as the trio neared. I debated unscrewing the salt shaker and creating a line of protection, but sprinkling salt on the table was sure to draw unwanted attention.

Bernita seated the two men and left, leaving one empty booth between us. Breaux would have to walk past them to reach me. I twisted and checked the back. No rear exit. I guess the diner didn't want people skipping out on their tabs.

A few minutes later Breaux reappeared. He almost collided with our waitress as she headed to the drug lord's booth, tall sodas in hand. Bernita nodded approvingly at Breaux's clean bandage. The bandana had disappeared, probably stashed in his pocket. He had scrubbed the dried blood from his forehead. No one would look twice at him now.

Breaux gestured for Bernita to precede him. She bustled ahead. I laid the menu over the steak knife and slid the utensil up my sleeve.

Bernita chatted up the drug lord and his crony as she placed their sodas in front of them. They barely glanced at Breaux as he walked past. His gaze remained fixed on me. When he slipped into the booth, I released the breath I had been holding.

"What?" he asked.

Before I could lean across the table and tell him, Bernita bustled up to the table and asked, "Can I get y'all anything else? We have an excellent apple-cranberry pie tonight."

"I'm good." I dropped my voice as low as I could.

"Me too," Breaux said.

"Then I'll just leave this with y'all." She placed the bill on the table. "And take these away." She stacked the plates and gathered up the silverware with brisk efficiency. If she noticed the missing steak knife, she didn't say anything.

After she left, Breaux leaned sideways and peered under the table. "What happened to my steak knife?"

"Shh." I hooked my finger under my hoodie cuff, exposing the pointed tip.

Breaux's eyebrows scrunched together. He lowered his voice. "Why? What's going on?"

I leaned forward and gave him a whispered update. "They're here, the men from the boat. You just passed their booth."

Breaux started to look over his shoulder, then stopped himself. He leaned forward, a study in controlled movement, and used his straw to swirl his iced tea. "Did they see you?"

"I don't think so."

"Good." He scanned the area behind me.

"No rear exit. I already checked."

His head bobbed once as he sipped on the straw, drawing amber liquid up through the clear plastic tube.

"We could try to wait them out, but then we'd risk encountering them outside in the dark," I said.

Breaux shook his head. "Too dangerous. We're the only customers left besides them. We're too noticeable."

I placed the twenty on top of the meal ticket. Breaux pulled out three one-dollar bills and added them.

"How about we wait until Bernita returns with their food? Then we walk past while they are distracted, hand the meal ticket and our money to the cashier, and then saunter out like we don't have a worry in the world."

"I like it," Breaux said. "Tell me when you see her."

I raised the mug so it shielded the lower half of my face. Breaux sprinkled some salt onto his palm and tossed it at me. White specks sprinkled my hoodie like dandruff. "Protection," he mouthed.

I returned the mug to the table and reached for the shaker. Breaux blocked me with his hand and pointed to the knife in my cuff. My jaw dropped. If I had thrown the salt, the knife might have flown at Breaux or at least clattered onto the table, drawing attention.

Idiot!
I slid the knife onto the table. When I glanced up, my pulse spiked. "She's coming. Wait…"

Breaux scooped up the meal ticket and the money.

"Now."

Breaux exited the booth first and stepped toward me, partially blocking me from view. I kept my chin down as I slid across the plastic vinyl seat. Bernita reached the other booth. My heartbeat sounded in my ears, drowning out the clatter of dishes and small talk. With Breaux leading, we reached the drug lord's booth as Bernita dispersed the platters balanced on her left arm.

"Good night, hon," Bernita called out.

I shrank behind Breaux's right shoulder as he said, "Good night. Thanks, again."

We made it past the booth. Breaux reached for my hand. I laced my fingers through his. Five more tables and we would arrive at the cash register. Breaux slid his arm around my waist and casually guided me in front of him, placing himself between the drug lord and me. My heartbeat filled the room. Four tables. Three.

The front door opened and two uniformed police officers stepped inside. My footsteps faltered.
Did Bernita call her son?
My chest tightened. Breaux squeezed my hand. "Please give Bernita the change," he said as he handed the cashier our money and the meal ticket.

"Will do, sir," the cashier said.

The younger of the two cops tensed when he heard the waitress's name. The older cop stood between the door and us. "You two live around here?" he asked, his voice a commanding whisper.

"No," Breaux said. "We're just passing through."

The cop clasped the doorknob and motioned with his eyes for us to move closer. As we approached he whispered, "Go directly to your car, then leave immediately. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," we said in unison.

We stepped from the glare of the brightly lit diner into the dark street. I clasped Breaux's arm.

"Stay close," he whispered.

Our sneakers thudded on the sidewalk as we speedwalked to the hybrid. I sensed several sets of eyes tracking our movements. When we reached the car, Breaux used the key instead of the loud remote. I figured he didn't want to startle the Drug Enforcement Agency agents staking out the diner. At least I hoped they were DEA. They could have been a Special Weapons and Tactics team. Hard to tell when they were hidden behind cars. Either way, I hoped the uniforms inside kept Bernita and the rest of the staff safe from whatever was about to go down.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ainslie

After breakfast Yemaya drove off in Bugsy. My parents fanned out on the third floor — Dad to the media room, Mom to her home office. Alone on the silent second floor, I holed up at my desk and typed away on my laptop. I liked making lists. They calmed me.

Reasons Sophia Didn't Contact Me:

1. She was held hostage.

2. She was in an area without phone service or Internet.

3. She lost her memory or was physically hurt.

4. Something terrible happened to her, and once she was free she was too ashamed or afraid to contact me.

5. She feared her phone calls and emails were being monitored. (Why didn't she use the fake name she had picked out, Hope Huntleigh?)

6. She found a new best friend and forgot about me.

Possible Places for Sophia to Live:

1. With me, in the guest room. (Impact on Mom and Dad's marriage?)

2. With Aunt Terra and Uncle Esmun (at least she'd be in California).

3. With her last foster parents.

4. Board at Athenian. (See if they've filled the spot left by the Kenyan girl who just returned to Africa.)

5. Group home for foster teens — NO WAY.

6. Louisiana?

Which School Could She Attend?

1. Athenian Academy — convince Mom and Dad to pay her tuition (GOOD LUCK!), but tell Sophia she received a scholarship, which would be technically true and not feel like charity. Or ask the school if they have any scholarship money available — doubtful if she starts this late in the school year.

2. Jefferson — Public School, lots of kids who knew her at Carter Middle School will be there, which could be good or bad.

3. Whatever high school they have in Palm Springs near Aunt Terra and Uncle Esmun.

4. Louisiana?

I hit the save key. Studying the lists, a plan of attack took shape. The question was should I execute it now, or wait until I heard from Sophia? My parents would tell me to wait. Athenian would tell me to wait. Aunt Terra and Uncle Esmun would want to meditate on it and would ask me if I had read my almanac entry for the day. Hmm.

An odd sound reached me — something between a hiss and a
psst.
I raised my hand toward the heating vent. No air stirred.

Hisssssss. Psssssst. Rattle. Rattle. Rattle.

The fine hairs on my forearms pushed against the sleeves of my sweater tunic. I swiveled my chair around to face the noise. The spell book wobbled, rattling the inset glass on the table in front of the daybed. Yemaya had closed it before we'd gone downstairs for dessert. I eased out of the desk chair and inched toward it. Each step I took increased the vibration.

I halted and froze three feet away, afraid the glass would shatter if the grimoire grew more agitated. With a violent heave, the alligator-hide cover flew open and knocked against the glass. Exotic trills, whistles, whirrs, and ribbits filled every corner of the room. A mint-green funnel cloud formed over the grimoire and flipped the pages in rapid succession.

The tornado ended. My suite fell silent. A cautious step brought me closer as though I were playing the game "Mother, May I?" and had been given permission to advance. Emboldened, I drew nearer and peered down at the open page.

Thankfully, the writing was in English.
Spell to Restore Friendship. Burn Balm of Gilead buds and myrrh or carry Balm of Gilead on your person to reconcile friendships or estranged love relationships.

Balm of Gilead. Where had I seen that name? I ran to my walk-in closet. The spot where I stored my box of magical necessities was vacant. My heart accelerated to bullet-train speed. Then I remembered. We had taken candles from the box to clear my room.

I dashed into the hall. On the high, narrow table near my double doors rested the box of magical necessities with its carved dragon lid. Breathless, I rummaged through the carefully labeled plastic bags until I found myrrh and Balm of Gilead buds. I paused over the charcoal still wrapped in its foil container. Deciding it wasn't worth setting off the super-sensitive fire alarm hardwired above my doors, I skipped the charcoal and rushed to the spell book.

"Here," I said, sprinkling a few sticky buds on the page. For good measure, I added a couple of rough chunks of glittery myrrh, even though they were probably magically inert without fire. "Please restore my friendship with Sophia and enable her to live a happy life."

Nothing happened. I closed my eyes and envisioned Sophia happy and smiling, her face free of stress and worry. "Wherever you want to live, Sophia, whoever you want to be with, I wish you lifelong happiness. You deserve it."

In my mind's eye, violet light surrounded Sophia. Our eyes met. Her smile, hesitant at first, grew and grew, making me smile in return. The image vanished, and I opened my eyes and glanced down at the spell book. The myrrh glowed; its crystal-like facets radiated light into my room. I blinked and the rough chunks of resin returned to normal.

My laptop pinged, signaling a new email.

The spell book uttered a satisfied whirr.

Epilogue

Sophia

The basketball shot from Breaux's hands, arced above the heads of the ragtag group of foster kids, rebounded off the backboard, and dropped through the net. "Yes!" Breaux shouted, pumping his fists into the air.

Eight-year old Elroy captured the ball. I waved my arms, pretending to block him, but let him dribble close enough to the basket to make a wild throw. Five-year old Tanisha shrieked and ran after it. A third child whose name I had forgotten dashed after her.

Clouds scudded across the sky, pushed by a late March breeze. Their shadows slipped across the schoolyard. I glanced at the red brick classrooms and saw a flash of my younger self. Breaux gathered me in his arms for a quick hug.

"We should get back," I told him.

He clasped my wrist and raised my arm so he could check my watch. "She's not due for forty-five minutes." He angled his head at me. "You're nervous."

"No, I'm super-nervous." I smoothed my hands over the black slouch sweater and rolled-at-the-cuff jeans Miss Wanda had given me.

"But you and Ainslie have been emailing, texting, and having video chats for over two months."

"I know, but meeting in person is different." I morphed my expression into a smirk. "Be warned. I told her all about you. I'm so glad your spring breaks coincided. You'll finally get to meet each other."

Breaux pulled me closer. "Admit it. You planned it on purpose because you wanted backup."

I averted my gaze and watched Elroy shoot one off the rim.

"Soph?" Breaux prodded.

I glanced up at him. Our eyes met and my insides fluttered. I knew he wouldn't give up prodding, so I sighed and plunged in. "I'm afraid when she hangs out with me, she'll change her mind."

"About the scholarship to her private school, or her parents assuming guardianship of you until you turn eighteen?"

"You left out realizing she's made a horrible mistake and not wanting to be my friend anymore."

"You passed the Athenian Academy's entrance exam and only got held back one grade. You should be celebrating."

I stared down at my sneakers. "I know."

Breaux clasped my shoulders and bent his knees a little so we were eye-to-eye. "What's the worst that could happen?"

A basketball bounced against his leg. "You two playin' or what?" Elroy demanded.

Breaux rolled the ball to Tanisha. "In a minute." To me he said, "No wonder you don't want to stay here and live with these rugrats."

"It could get awkward." I took a step back. "You might fall in love with some sorority girl at UCLA."

Breaux made a
tsk
sound. "Yeah, but then I'd have to ditch her in ten years. Which reminds me. I have a present for you." He pulled something small, flat, and gift-wrapped from his pocket and handed it to me.

I flipped it over. It weighed next to nothing and was shorter than a bookmark. "What on earth?"

"Most guys wouldn't book a date this far out. But I'm willing to risk it. I figure you and Ainslie will have the whole space-time-continuum thing worked out by then, so…" His voice trailed off as I slipped my finger under the seam in the gift wrap and popped the tape.