“Just something Ilyan said to me in the hall.”
She watched me, and I recognized the same look in her that I often had myself when I was talking about my dad. She was deciding how much of the truth to tell me.
“It’s Czech,” she said. “It means charm.”
I guess that made sense. He was using his charm on her all the time; it fit anyway.
“Oh, that makes sense.”
“What did he say to you?” Wyn asked, that same alarm lacing her voice.
“It’s nothing. It was just an odd word, so I was wondering what it meant…” That seemed to pacify her, so I left it at that. Still. I knew that face; it gave me the nagging sensation that she wasn’t being entirely truthful.
The sooner I got home and to a search engine, the better.
Thirteen
I had stayed up way too late last night trying to find the translation for “kouzlo” on the internet. The closest thing I found for a long time was “koza” which meant “goat”. Why someone would give someone a goat to protect them, I didn’t know. I finally found the translation I was looking for, and it did say that “kouzlo” meant “charm”, but I still felt like Wyn was keeping something from me. After all, why would she have that reaction to the word charm?
Due to my prolonged internet searching, I was nowhere near ready when my mom burst into my bedroom the next morning, fully dressed, breakfast in hand, ready for our full day of shopping. She set the breakfast down and danced out of the room, saying she would wait for me in the living room.
I ate my breakfast—Fruit Loops and toast—as I tried to wake up. I had finally gotten to sleep at three a.m., and now my mom had me up at ten. Seven hours should have been enough, but I still felt like I was dragging.
I set my breakfast on the kitchen counter across from the bathroom, as I made my way to a nice, warm shower. The hot water did the trick, and after a few minutes my body felt alive and energetic.
I dressed in my red, birthday shirt and my only pair of jeans that weren’t ripped before making my way to the mirror to figure out something to do with my hair. I slipped Ryland’s necklace over my head and slid it into its normal place under my shirt.
I was reaching for my hairbrush when my eyes fell on the bright, purple bead. It looked so innocent just lying there on my dresser. I stared at it as something clicked in my mind. Kouzlo. Hadn’t my father used that word in his letter?
I whipped around to look at the small wastebasket next to my dresser and cringed to see it empty, the letter long gone. My life was turning me into a lunatic. Crazy father, hopeless crushes, and bizarre foreign friends; no wonder I was losing it. I had made something out of nothing. I grabbed the bead and shoved it into my pocket before pulling my hair up in a half-ponytail, making sure to leave enough hair down to fall over my ears and cover the mark.
I blotted on some lip gloss, blush and a little bit too much eye shadow before leaving the bedroom and declaring myself ready. My mom turned off the TV and turned to face me. She brought her hand to her mouth, her eyes glossing over. Great, she was going to be crying all day.
“Mom,” I said. I already felt out of place, and I didn’t need to be cried over.
“Oh, honey,” she said, “you are so pretty.”
Her arms encompassed me in a big, motherly hug. I could feel her body shake just a little bit as she leaked out tears of joy. I returned the hug, my arms hanging awkwardly on her back.
“Thank you,” she whispered in my ear before pushing me away from her. “Forgive your blubbering mom, will you? I’m just a little bit excited to show off my beautiful daughter.” She smiled before grabbing my hand and dragging me out the door.
We drove straight to the biggest mall in the city and wandered first into one of the few main department stores, much to my disappointment; I always enjoyed the smaller boutiques more. She led me straight to the misses department and began loading me up with graphic t-shirts and peasant tops. It was then that I realized what this trip was. I had been trapped in Dress-Up-Your-Daughter Day. I groaned, but hoped that I could finagle at least one pair of jeans out of her.
After I came out in my first shirt, I began to wonder if my mom was going to be able to turn off the waterworks at all today. She gushed at me in a bright, blue t-shirt emblazoned with Hello Kitty in camo gear on the front. Not the shirt that would be one to induce tears. I ran back into the dressing room and ripped the shirt off. It was cute, but I would never forget her crying over Hello Kitty-Goes-Army.
“Mom,” I begged from behind the door, “you can’t cry over everything I put on, please?”
“I know,” her sniffles breaking her voice a bit. “It’s just… I have always waited for this day...”
“Mom…” I pleaded.
“I know. I’m sorry.”