House of Ivy & Sorrow

THREE





I check the hall mirror every couple seconds as I wait for Gwen and Kat to show up. I can’t help it. Sometimes I have nightmares that I’ve gone back to the crazy-haired, freckle-faced, buck-toothed version of myself.

It was bad. Seriously bad.

Right after Mom died, I came home from elementary school bawling because Emily Harrison said I looked and acted like a boy. Admittedly, my wiry hair had turned into a frizzy nightmare without my mom’s wondrous ability to tame the beast. Emily told all the girls that I must have gotten cooties, and for the rest of the day no one would sit next to me, let alone talk to me. Nana wasn’t happy. Let’s just say Emily started a lice epidemic the next day, and then everyone said she had cooties instead.

“Don’t you worry, Josephine,” Nana would say to me in junior high, when an onslaught of pimples was added to my freckles. “Ugly children become beautiful adults. You will be gorgeous one day—the most beautiful girl in the whole town.”

“Gee, thanks, Nana. Good to know you think I’m ugly,” I’d say.

She would laugh as she sat in her chair by the fireplace. “But not forever!”

I knew she meant well, but it was hardly comforting at the time. What if I really was doomed to be an ugly little mouse for the rest of my life?

Back then I didn’t know that Nana is never wrong.

It practically happened overnight, like someone had cast a spell on me. I woke up the morning of my sixteenth birthday, barely a year ago, and my freckles had faded so much I couldn’t see them under makeup. My hair started curling the right way, instead of whichever way it wanted. And it was like my face finally fit my gigantic teeth. I rushed down the stairs to the picture of my mother on the mantel. Taking it to this same hall mirror, I fought back tears as I stared at her and me together. “So I am your daughter after all.”

As I fix a few stray curls, the floorboard creaks, and I jump. “Nana, you scared me.”

“Are you going somewhere?” By the look on her face, I have a feeling I should have told her sooner.

“Out with the girls. We got invited to watch a movie at Winn’s house. A bunch of people will be there, so you don’t have to worry about anything.” Not that she won’t. Even though I begged her to stop, she’ll totally spy on me.

“It’s not a good idea, considering what happened this afternoon.”

I put on my best pout. “But you said it was nothing. I’m not using the bridge door, and he’s probably long gone in that fancy car of his. He definitely didn’t live anywhere around here—probably not anywhere in Iowa.”

One of her eyebrows arches. That was so not the right thing to say. “Strange that he would drive all the way here, then, just to ask for your mother. Who was murdered. By the darkest of magic. Without so much as a clue to who is responsible.”

She has a point, but this is Winn we’re talking about. I won’t back down so easily. “Nana, is he dangerous or not? Two and a half hours ago you said he was nothing to worry about, and now you won’t let me go out the Main Street door because of him? I have a feeling you’re not telling me something.”

Gwen’s horn sounds from outside.

Nana sighs. “If you see him again, you are to come straight home. By any means necessary.”

I give her a hug. “Thank you! Love you!”

I’m out the door before she can change her mind. Gwen honks her horn three more times, though she can see me walking down the path. The Main Street house is much like the one under the bridge, except without the ambiance. No stained glass. No cobwebs. Just a perfectly manicured lawn and a white picket fence that blends in flawlessly with the rest of our sleepy old town.

“Hurry up!” Gwen calls from the window of her giant, decrepit truck. She inherited it when her dad got a new one, mostly because he was tired of driving her from the farm to work at the town deli. Since Kat and I are woefully devoid of transportation, Gwen’s truck is the best we have.

“Where are we eating?” I squeeze in next to Kat, who rounds out our trio with her indifference and constant, endearing grouchiness. If it weren’t for her, I’m pretty sure Gwen and I would fight all the time. Kat makes sure we know when we’re being stupid.

“Marcello’s,” Gwen says. “According to Winn.”

I lean my head back, unable to restrain my smile. Winn Carter is by far the cutest guy in our grade. It’s practically mandatory for every girl in town to have at least a little crush on him. He is so gorgeous he had an older girlfriend, Chelsea Marlowe, who broke up with him when she went to college. This has been the first time anyone else has had a chance, and yet he hasn’t made a move on anyone all year. Until me. Of all people.

“You have no idea how happy I am right now.”

Gwen flips her blond hair. “You better be! It’s about time you two take it up a notch. We need some official coupling around here. Tonight is the night!”


We both squeal.

“Oh, for the love,” Kat says. But she’s smiling, so Gwen goes on.

“That is not even the best part, honey.” Gwen rummages around in her purse and soon produces a piece of familiar yellow paper—an order slip from the deli. “Here.”

I take it from her and read it. Then read it again. And again just to make sure. “This really is the best night of my life.”

Kat rolls her eyes. “What does it say?”

“‘For Jo,’ with his phone number and ‘Call me anytime.’” He’s tried to give it to me before, but Nana always gets in the way. I still haven’t forgiven her for the time she made me throw up when he asked for my number. I barely missed his shoes.

“Whoa.” Kat takes it from me, her mild interest saying everything. “This is big.”

“So big!” Gwen laughs.

“I know.” Suddenly I feel fluttery all over. I can’t help but fear what Nana might do if he tries to make a move. She could curse him blind if he puts his arm around me. What if she strikes me down for holding his hand?

“Are you gonna barf?” Kat asks.

I shake my head, searching for a plausible cover. “Okay, kind of freaking out now. What am I supposed to do? Do you think he’ll try something? I’m not exactly, uh, well versed in that stuff.”

Gwen shrugs. “Just do what you’ve been doing. It’s obviously working.”

“But I haven’t been doing anything!”

“Then don’t do anything, duh,” Kat says. “It’s called being yourself.”

I whimper. “Why does that seem so hard all of a sudden?”

“Stop it.” Gwen parks in front of Marcello’s, the only pizza place for thirty miles. “Josephine Hemlock, you are arguably the hottest girl in school now—”

“Believe me, we’re just as surprised as everyone else.” Kat pushes her long bangs to the side. “A year ago you were the ugly one of the group.”

“Shut up!” I laugh.

“Don’t interrupt my pep talk!” Gwen shoves Kat. “As I was saying, you will go in there and be your ridiculously charming, beautiful self. Winn will finally confess his undying love for you, and you will be official by the end of the night.”

I cover my face, trying to calm my nerves.

“And then me and Kat will get dates, too, because Winn’s friends will be around us so much that they’ll realize how amazing we are.”

“There’s the real motivation!” I say. “Gwendolyn, you’re evil.”

“I don’t want a boyfriend,” Kat says. “Guys are idiots.”

Gwen gets out of the truck, and we follow. “Whatever. Idiots or not, you know you want one. Someone nice and jaded who can share your negative view of the world.”

“That could be refreshing. I hate being the only practical one around here.” Kat opens the restaurant door, and it dings. The place is fairly busy, being Friday and all. There are only three restaurants in town—Marcello’s, the deli, and the Lucky Star diner. There’s also a bar, but it’s hard to sneak in when everyone knows you.

“Jo! Over here!” Winn calls.

My face flushes as I follow the voice. There he is, his perfect smile in place. Lots of things make Winn attractive—the hardworking farmer-boy build, the dusty blond hair that curls by his ears, the stormy blue eyes—but it’s his smile that gets me. His mouth. It sounds dirty, but he has an incredible mouth.

All I did the first month sitting next to him in art was try not to stare too much at his lips. But the way they pursed when he concentrated . . . I still get fluttery when I think about it. Then one day, we had to draw a display our teacher put up. It was a family of ceramic frogs.

Yes. Frogs. With red eyes.

“The one on the right looks like it wants to kill us all,” I said under my breath, but not quietly enough, because Winn heard and laughed.

“That smile definitely means he’s up to something,” he said. “Frogs don’t smile unless they have diabolical plans.”

I nodded. “World domination, probably.”

“For sure.”

“All hail our demon-eyed overlords.”

We both busted up, so much so that we almost got in trouble because we couldn’t stop laughing. Winn drew one of his frogs with an army helmet, and it was over. My little crush was a full-blown he-is-the-most-awesome-guy-ever-born obsession. And by some miracle we’ve been friends ever since, building into whatever we are now.

I manage to wave at him. Gwen has to nudge me to get my feet moving, and then we’re at their table. Winn stands. “Hey.”

“Hey, uh, glad your face is . . .” I stop. Of all the things I could have said, why am I starting with the pimple attack? Get it together, Jo.

He cringes. “Oh, yeah. Must have been some kind of allergic reaction, because it disappeared as soon as I got home. Weird, huh.”

“Yeah.” It’s scary how easy it is not to bring up magic. Nana says science was the best thing to ever happen to witches. Now there are all sorts of logical explanations for what we do, and people are always inclined to believe those first.

“Anyway . . .” Winn looks at his feet, and I feel horrible for embarrassing him. “I’m glad you could make it. Kind of last-minute plans.”

“Not a problem. It was this or homework.” I slide into the booth, immediately regretting the homework line. I’m not sure this being-myself crap is going so well, but then he laughs.

“Glad we’re at least better than homework.”

“Barely.”

“Ouch.” He smiles as he slides in next to me. Gwen and Kat end up by Winn’s buddies, Adam and Billy, filling out the round booth.

“So.” Gwen sits way too close to Adam, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Please tell me you didn’t rent scary movies so you could watch us scream, because I’m really hoping you guys are cooler than that.”

“We have a bunch of different stuff,” Winn says. “Pooled all our Netflix orders, so you have your pick.” The closest movie theater is like an hour away. Without Netflix we’d never see anything.

“Don’t let Gwen pick.” Kat grabs a breadstick. “Otherwise we’ll be stuck with some sappy romantic comedy.”

“Hey! What’s wrong with that?”

The guys laugh, and I’m so distracted by my friends that Winn’s shoulder against mine takes me off guard. “Your friends are funny,” he says into my ear.

“I was thinking crazy, but that works, too.”

“Crazy people usually are funny.”

I smile. “True.”

He pushes a menu in front of me. “What do you want?”

“Hmm.” I pick it up, though I already know I want pepperoni and olives. It’s been my favorite for as long as I can remember. “Are we doing the mini-pizza thing or sharing bigger ones?”

“Mini pizzas have crap toppings,” Billy says. “It’s like one pepperoni a slice.”

“I’m for sharing,” Kat says. “We can take whatever we don’t eat.”

The battle over toppings begins, but I manage to get a half pizza with my choice. As we wait for the pies, I’m surprised how well the conversation goes. Gwen has a way of getting people to talk. I love her for it.

“How are we doing against homework now?” Winn asks right as the pizza comes.

I purse my lips, pretending to think about it. “Pretty good, I guess.”

“So maybe you’d skip it next Friday, too?” His eyes meet mine, all bright and hopeful.

“The night’s not even over. You never know; it could go downhill. Are you sure you want to commit to another?”

“Really sure.” His knee bumps mine, and a thrill runs through me. “You?”

“Oh, I think that would be—”

The door dings, and I can’t help but look at who comes in. Everyone is staring, because no one in town owns a suit like that. And somehow, his eyes find me immediately.

No.

Not fair. I don’t want to go.

But that dark something is there again. I can feel it slinking under the door, weaving its way through the room like a black spider.

“Jo?” Winn says.

It’s only then that I realize I’m standing. I have to get out. Even if I don’t want to, I must. It’s more important than Winn. More important than everything. “I have to go. Right now.”

He moves, though he doesn’t look happy. “Now? Why?”

I gulp down the fear. “I . . . I just do. I’m so sorry. Next Friday, though. If you still want.”

The man stands at the front door, so I head for the side exit. The shadows are wrong. The door is ice. Whatever this evil is, it’s too close.