Vacations From Hell (4 page)

Dad—who knew nothing about the single most important thing in the lives of his wife and his daughter—called, “We’ve got to drop Pudge off at the O’Farrells and get to the airport within one hour. Unless nobody wants to go to the beach house this year!”

Cecily shook off her melancholy and zipped her suitcase shut. Time to go meet the coven.

Of course, none of the men involved knew the annual Outer Banks trips had anything to do with witchcraft. They all believed that this was a reunion of “college friends”: six women who remained very close and wanted their families to know one another. So each year they rented a couple of North Carolina beach houses within walking distance of one another and split them between the families. The trips had begun before Cecily was born, so by now the six husbands were good friends too, and they liked to say that their kids were “growing up together.” Cecily could happily have skipped the experience of growing up with Kathleen Pruitt.

“We have a coven at home,” Cecily had complained last month when she’d asked to skip the Outer Banks for one summer. “Why can’t we just spend extra time with them instead of hanging with the witches you practiced with in college? I learn more that way.”

But her mother wouldn’t hear of it. She insisted that some covens had a special energy that made it worthwhile to keep in touch and someday Cecily would understand. When Cecily tried to explain that a week with Kathleen Pruitt was like six months in hell, Mom had said she was being dramatic. (Mom might have understood if Cecily had told her about that stunt the year before, when Kathleen had loudly claimed on the beach that Cecily’s tampon string was hanging from her swimsuit, which it
so was not
. But Cecily could never bring herself to speak of it.) So the Outer Banks. Again.

At least they were at the beach. Cecily, who loved swimming in the sunshine, thought that was every summer’s silver lining.

Except, of course, if it was raining.

“The weather report swore this front would stay south of here,” Dad said, turning up the windshield wipers of the rental car to top speed.

Theo kicked impatiently at the back of their mother’s seat. “You said I could swim as soon as I got there. You
promised
.”

“I’ll bet the storm blows over soon,” Mom said soothingly.

Theo would not be consoled. “We can’t even use the Jacuzzi tub if it’s raining!”

Cecily looked at the heavy dark clouds with foreboding.
What could be worse than spending a week with your worst enemy?
she thought.
Being trapped inside with her
and
your whiny little brother because of the rain. That’s worse.

Then she reminded herself of her goals not to worry about Kathleen Pruitt and to be nicer to Theo, who was only eight years old and couldn’t be expected to have any perspective. “Hey, remember the foosball table in the front room?” She poked his shoulder. “Last year, you couldn’t beat me, but you’re bigger now. You should challenge me to a rematch.”

“I guess that would be okay.” Theo sighed, still pretending to pout. But Cecily could see the gleam of mischief in his eyes. When she threw the foosball game, he’d be thrilled.

When they reached the beach house, a couple of her mother’s friends rushed out to greet them, storm or no storm. Mrs. Silverberg, Ms. Giordano—they looked so ordinary, in their mom jeans and pastel-colored polo shirts. No man alive (nor most women) would ever guess the powers they taught to their daughters. Now they shouted hellos while raindrops softened the sheets
of newspaper they’d tented over their heads, and there were big hugs for everyone. Cecily tried hard to look enthusiastic, though it was difficult while she was getting drenched.

While her father grabbed most of the luggage, Cecily glanced around warily for Kathleen. One year she’d met Cecily at the car—only to hit Cecily’s bag with an itching spell. Cecily’s mother hadn’t figured out the real problem for two whole days, during which Cecily had scratched her arms so raw that swimming in the ocean was impossible.

There was no sign of Kathleen, though. Slightly relieved, Cecily tugged the last suitcase—hers—from the trunk, grimacing at the weight and wondering if she’d really needed that autoclave. Then a strong hand reached past her to clasp the handle. “Let me get that.”

Cecily glanced over her shoulder at the most gorgeous guy she’d ever seen.

He had blond hair and blue eyes, so striking that she started thinking dorky things about golden sand and dark seas. He was perhaps a foot taller than Cecily, who normally preferred guys closer to her own height but felt she would make an exception in this case. His white T-shirt was rapidly becoming transparent as it got wet, which was the best reason Cecily could think of to stay outside in the rain.

“Heavy,” he said, lifting her bulging suitcase with no
apparent effort. “You must have packed a lot.”

“Every year I promise myself I’ll bring less,” she confessed. “I never quite manage it.”

He smiled even more broadly. “That means you want to be prepared for anything.”

Gorgeous, polite,
and
understands the value of thorough preparation. I’ve got to be dreaming.

“Cecily?” Mom called from the steps of the house. “Are you two going to stand out there all day?”

“Coming!” Cecily answered. The Gorgeous Polite Guy laughed softly as he toted the bags inside.

Her sandals squished against the floor as she came into the beach house, which they were supposed to call “Ocean’s Heaven.” (All the houses at the Outer Banks had stupid beach-pun names, and they had driftwood sculptures on the walls and bedspreads with patterns of pelicans or seashells.) Cecily’s T-shirt and cropped cargos stuck to her in weird, uncomfortable folds, and her makeup had probably all been washed into the sand. What would Gorgeous Polite Guy think? Quickly she wrung out her bedraggled ponytail and parted her dripping bangs—to see Kathleen Pruitt.

“
There
you are,” Kathleen said. “I was just asking Mom where you could be. You look just the same!”

Drops of water from Cecily’s soaked clothing pattered onto the rug of the beach house. “Wow, thanks.”

If Kathleen noticed the sarcasm, she ignored it.
Cecily would’ve liked to add a snide comment about Kathleen’s appearance in return, but unfortunately Kathleen looked great. Super-great, actually. She wasn’t that much cuter than Cecily, who in moments of hard honesty would’ve called them both “average,” but the Pruitts had a little more money to spend on clothes, makeup, and highlights for Kathleen’s hair. It made a difference, one that Kathleen didn’t let Cecily forget.

Outside, thunder boomed, suggesting Cecily was going to be stuck inside with Kathleen for a very long time.

“Kathleen’s been asking and asking about you!” said Mrs. Pruitt, who was hugging Mom. “Just couldn’t wait to catch up with her best summer bud!”

Bud. Ugh.
Cecily forced a smile. “Seems like we were here only yesterday.”

“Oh, Cecily,” Kathleen singsonged as she gestured toward the bathroom. “Did you meet Scott?”

From the bathroom stepped Gorgeous Polite Guy, a.k.a. Scott. He had a towel slung around his shoulders, which he had apparently just used to dry his hair, which was now delectably tousled. Before Cecily could think about all the ways she would have liked to muss his hair for him, she saw, to her horror, that he was walking straight toward Kathleen—who snuggled against him in satisfaction.

In the background she could hear Kathleen’s mother
saying, “Well, we thought Scott could room with Theo, if that’s all right with you. He’s such a nice young man—you’ll love him. His parents gave their permission so I thought why not let Kathleen bring her boyfriend?”

Boyfriend. This amazing, incredible, perfect guy is Kathleen Pruitt’s boyfriend. There is no justice. There is no God. Okay, maybe there’s a God, but justice? None.

Kathleen smiled even more broadly. “Did
you
bring anyone along this year, Cecily?”

Cecily would’ve shaken her head, but Theo piped up, “I tried to bring Pudge, but they wouldn’t let me. Pudge is my hamster.”

Kathleen whispered to Scott, just loud enough for Cecily to overhear, “He named it after his sister.”

Scott didn’t laugh at Kathleen’s mean little joke. He frowned, playing dumb, as though he didn’t get it, though of course he must have. No, he was too polite to laugh at something so mean. Too nice. Too good. That made the situation even worse.

Kathleen had somehow managed to get her hooks into a guy who was tall, handsome, polite,
and
totally non-evil. (In other words, a guy with whom she had nothing in common.) Obviously she intended to use her new relationship to make Cecily feel as small and alone as possible. And the rain was only falling harder.

It’s official
, Cecily thought.
I am in hell.

SELF-IMPROVEMENT GOALS: REVISED

During this hellish week at the Outer Banks I will:

• continue to be nice to Theo, and never ever once give in to the temptation to ask him about Scott, because I do not care about Scott
  
• talk to Scott as little as possible, because I should avoid any guy who would decide to date Kathleen of his own free will
  
• really concentrate during the coven meetings and turn this into a learning experience, because, let’s face it, as a vacation, it’s already pretty much ruined
  
• remember that I am too good to notice the bitchery of Kathleen Pruitt, even though said
  bitchery is big enough to be seen from outer space
  

The women sat in a circle in the basement, a candle flickering in the center. Acrid fumes laced the air. Cecily was used to the smells by now, but sometimes she wondered if they couldn’t use a scented candle to make their work atmosphere a bit more pleasant. Or would any new element disturb the energy? She’d have to ask.

Mom used a thin white switch to etch the rune patterns in the mixed ashes. She had a beautiful hand for it—precise and delicate—and Cecily envied her mother’s sure touch.

Someday I’ll be that good
, she promised herself.

Each woman sat with her daughter or daughters—save for Mrs. Pruitt, because Kathleen had skipped coven. That was unlike Kathleen, who normally liked to use those occasions as opportunities for embarrassing Cecily. Then again, Kathleen liked to use every occasion to embarrass somebody or other. Cecily was grateful for the brief break.

When the rune pattern was complete, Mom put something in front of the small pile of ashes—a single brown shoe, one that belonged to Cecily’s father. Everyone else put something in as well: a husband’s T-shirt, a father’s sunglasses. Cecily set Theo’s Game Boy atop the rest. Another couple flicks of the switch drew lines of ash around the pile of items,
containing them within the spell.

“Time to anoint,” her mother said to the circle as a whole. The other moms all nodded, and their daughters—who ranged in age from Cecily’s down to a four-year-old in pigtails—scooted closer to get a better look. Then her mother added, “Try it, Cecily.”

Cecily had been performing this step in the spell for a couple of months now, and sometimes for harder spells than this. But she’d never done it in front of anyone but her mother before—not even for the coven at home. She saw the mothers trade glances among themselves, surprised and not necessarily approving. Most witches were a couple years older than Cecily before they were capable of handling that kind of power.

No pressure
, she thought.

She picked up the vial they’d cooked up in the autoclave late last night. The deep purple liquid within was viscous—maybe more than was ideal—but at least it would be easier to pour. Cecily pulled out the stopper and refused to wrinkle her nose at the smell. She tipped the vial forward and deftly poured a thin stream into the shape of the rune, following her mother’s outline precisely. The grooves in the ash caught the fluid, and the rune of liquid began, ever so slightly, to glow.

“Very good,” her mother said. Cecily felt the tension in the room ease. Her mother took the candle—a part Cecily wasn’t very good at yet because she always lost her
concentration when the heated wax singed her fingers. Mom didn’t flinch once as she dipped the flame toward the fluid—which caught fire.

For a moment the flames leaped high—still brilliant purple, still in the shape of the rune. Then the ash caught fire too, and a smoky cloud appeared above them. There, flickering in three dimensions, were the people they’d sought with the spyglass spell: all the fathers and brothers, out watching a baseball game at a nearby sports bar. Cecily caught a glimpse of Theo stealing an onion ring from Dad’s plate, and she nearly giggled.

The next thing she saw, however, wiped the smile from her face.

There was Scott—somehow even more insanely gorgeous than he’d been the day before. His arm rested around Kathleen’s shoulders, and he stared at her adoringly as she filed her fingernails. Neither of them was paying any attention to the game.

Scott doesn’t even like sports
, Cecily thought. The guy she’d gone with briefly in the spring had wanted to spend most weekend afternoons watching televised golf, which was pretty much in a nutshell why she wasn’t going out with him anymore. Not liking sports was virtually the only way in which Scott could’ve become more perfect, so naturally he’d gone and done it.

Finding a boyfriend who was perfect to the point of not liking sports was virtually the only way that
Kathleen Pruitt could’ve become even more unbearable. As much as Cecily had always loathed Kathleen, she’d never envied her before.

No doubt Kathleen knew that Cecily was jealous, and was enjoying every second of it.

Maybe she doesn’t even like Scott that much
, Cecily thought hopefully.
Maybe she’s only with him to spite me.

But there wasn’t much chance of that. Although probably Kathleen would do anything to spite Cecily, any girl would like Scott.

Just when the sight of them together seemed to sear Cecily’s eyes, the image flickered out. The flames smothered, and where the ashes had been were only a few sprinkles of dust on the basement floor. A clean working area was the sign of a spell well cast.

“Very nice,” said one of the mothers, and Cecily knew the praise was for her.

The coven meeting more or less broke up at that point. This was more of an instructional session than anything else; the spyglass spell had been for demonstration purposes only, since all the women knew about the sports-bar excursion. Some of the mothers went over the finer points of the spell with the daughters as everybody got up and gathered together the items they’d taken to focus their magic, to put the things back where they belonged.

“You did fine work today,” her mother said, pulling
gently at Cecily’s ponytail.

“I try to pay attention.” Cecily attempted to look innocent. “Instead of skipping coven. Like some people.”

“Can it.” Mom glanced to make sure Mrs. Pruitt hadn’t heard; they were good friends, which was one reason Cecily wasn’t allowed to show openly how much she loathed Kathleen.

As Cecily tucked Theo’s Game Boy back into his luggage, she wondered,
Would she skip coven if it meant she could spend time with Scott? Without Kathleen?
Cecily decided she wouldn’t do it often—but she’d certainly do it once.

But no. Scott wasn’t perfect. Nobody was perfect. Sure he was gorgeous—and sweet and built—but he had chosen to date Kathleen. So there was one huge flaw right there. No doubt his other faults would make themselves known in time.

The guys, plus Kathleen, all returned about an hour later, after the baseball game had ended. If anything, it was raining even harder than before, which meant that Ocean’s Heaven once again seemed crowded and loud. Cecily sneaked up to her room to text her friends back home for a while, but Theo wouldn’t leave her alone.

“You said you would play foosball with me!”

“I did play foosball with you,” Cecily said, pressing
the keypad with her thumb so her friends would read
THEO BEING BRAT
. “We played three games yesterday. Remember?”

“But I want to play today.”

“Theo—”

“You don’t like playing anymore because you can’t always win now that I’m bigger.” Theo folded his arms across his chest. Apparently this was her only reward for pretending to lose: an even sulkier baby brother.

“Okay, okay. Let’s play.” Cecily’s first thought, as they headed downstairs, was to show Theo that she could in fact still beat him at foosball, absolutely
cream
him, so he wouldn’t bug her about playing any longer. Then she reminded herself that being nice to Theo was just about the only vacation self-improvement goal she’d been able to keep.

In the game room a group of people were watching a DVD on the wide-screen TV, some action movie that seemed to be mostly about things blowing up. Her father sat in the center munching on pretzels. With a cheery smile Ms. Giordano called to them, “You kids having fun?”

“I can beat Cecily at foosball now!” Theo proclaimed. Cecily gritted her teeth.

Then she heard, “Well, then, maybe I should help Cecily out.” She turned to see Scott put his hands on the
side of the foosball table. “What do you say, Theo? Can I play on Cecily’s side? Give her a chance?”

“Well—” Theo clearly didn’t like the idea of relinquishing the upper hand.

“I’m not very good at foosball,” Scott confessed. “So it’s not like I’d be that much help.”

Theo smiled. “Okay, then.”

Cecily went to the foosball table, so she and Scott stood side to side. This was the closest they’d been since he’d helped carry their luggage. She glanced around for Kathleen, who was nowhere to be seen, and Cecily wasn’t about to ask where she was. “You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself in for,” she said. “Theo’s pretty fierce.”

Theo spun some of the foosball men around, obviously hoping to prove her point.

“I’m strong.” Scott kept his face completely straight. “I can take it.” The glint in his eyes told Cecily that he’d lose the game on purpose, just like she would have on her own—which would make Theo’s ego almost unbearable, but would also make him really happy.

Gorgeous, sweet, built, and nice to little kids. Okay, I
have
to figure out what’s wrong with this guy before it drives me insane.

“How did you meet Kathleen?” Cecily said as Theo dropped the ball into the table.

“At school,” Scott said, giving the ball a whack. “I’d
seen her around all year, but we never got to know each other. Then after spring break, the first time I laid eyes on her—it was like I was seeing her for the first time. You know?”

“Mmm.” Cecily concentrated on the game for a second, because that seemed like the best way not to actually gag out loud.

Scott continued, “It’s sort of funny, though. We have this great relationship, even though we don’t enjoy the same things. I used to think that was impossible.”

“What kind of stuff do you like to do?” Cecily felt she could guess Kathleen’s interests: reading gossip magazines, bleaching her roots, tormenting the innocent.

“You would never guess my number-one hobby.”

“I’m not even going to try. Just tell me.”

“I like to cook.” Surprised, Cecily glanced at Scott instead of the foosball table, which gave Theo a chance to score. As Theo cheered himself, Scott laughed. “You don’t think guys should cook? You don’t look old-fashioned.”

“I’m not,” she said. “It’s just—you know—I
love
to cook.”

Scott nodded. “You get it, then. I was thinking about maybe trying to become a chef someday.”

At home on Cecily’s desk, where most of her friends would’ve kept college catalogs of prospective universities, she had brochures from every top cooking school in
the nation and a couple in Paris. “Oh,” she said weakly. “Me too. That’s—”

“A huge coincidence, huh?” Scott gave her a conspiratorial grin. “I’m crazy about Kathleen, but I don’t think she can even make toast.”

Cecily’s absolute, ultimate dream for her future was one she’d never seriously expected to come to pass, because dreams were dreams and reality was reality and she felt people were better off understanding the difference. But it was still fun to dream, so she’d imagined falling in love with a gorgeous, sweet, built guy who loved cooking absolutely as much as she did. Then they would open their own restaurant together, and it would be a huge success, and Cecily and the future Mr. Cecily would be incredibly happy cooking side by side.

And Scott was the very first guy she’d ever met who’d made her realize that dream might not actually be impossible.

“It’s great that you know what you want,” Scott said. “Too many people don’t.”

“Exactly! They keep saying that at our age, you don’t have to make up your mind. But shouldn’t you
want
to make up your mind?”

“So you have some direction. It’s all so much clearer that way.”

“Absolutely.”

“Hey,” Theo said loudly. “You’re not even paying attention!”

Cecily blushed. Scott laughed and rumpled Theo’s hair. “Sorry, buddy. We were just trying to get you off your guard, so maybe we’d stand a chance.” Then he glanced back at Cecily, and something about the affection in his blue eyes made her bones seem to liquefy. She leaned against the table, telling herself that kissing another girl’s boyfriend in the middle of a crowded room wasn’t a good idea. Even though her body seemed to be swaying toward him, beyond her control—

“What’s going on in here?” Kathleen wandered in, holding her hands out in front of her, fingers splayed. Her nails gleamed wetly of red polish.

Theo said, “Scott’s helping Cecily, but I can still beat them both!”

Kathleen sighed. “I guess there’s no helping Cecily, is there?”

“You were doing your nails?” Cecily said. “Again?”

“Yes.” Apparently Kathleen didn’t even register that as an insult. “This color is much better, I think. I want to do my toes too. Scott, lend me a hand, okay?”

“Okay.” Scott winked at Theo. “You and I are going to have a rematch later. Cecily—good talking to you.”

“You too.”

Already Scott had turned away—willing to drop
everything to give Kathleen a pedicure. He had to be absolutely crazy about her to do something like that.

How can he be so into her?
Cecily thought in despair.
How can any guy so right for me be in love with the peroxide piranha? This just can’t be for real.

Wait—THIS CAN’T BE FOR REAL.

Cecily’s eyes went wide. Adrenaline made her heart thump crazily, and nothing around her seemed entirely genuine. Although she remained at the foosball table occasionally spinning her men, she couldn’t pay any attention to what was going on; for once Theo beat her fair and square.

As soon as the game ended, Cecily hurried upstairs to her room. She needed a couple of seconds of privacy to think. Because if what she suspected was true—