Kali snorts too loudly, and Alice’s smile wavers.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Sawy—I mean, Alice,” I say. “But we might be the riffraff your daughter hired the bouncers for.”
“Of course not. It’s my home. I’m paying for the party, and I’d love for you to come.” Her voice takes on an edge. “I’ve been wanting Melanie to make friends with more sensible girls. See you girls later. Oops, I forgot something.” She disappears into the library, then, moments later, her kitten heels clack toward the BMW. Court gets out, and his mom takes his place.
Kali’s still frowning; I bump her arm with mine. “I like that poem. ‘Kite’ is more about being yourself even if it means you’re flying solo. It’s not about being gay. I think you should still do it.”
“Right. And end up like Barry the Fairy.”
Her freshman year, a kid named Barry had to move out of state after bullies spread rumors that he must be gay since he was a violinist, and Photoshopped pictures of him in a compromising position with a male quartet.
The door of the BMW closes with a whump. Court hops to the curb. Before Alice drives away, she lifts a cup to her lips, and drinks.
A Starbucks cup, with the letter D inked on the side. The car smoothly peels away.
Holy gladiola. I just fixed Court’s mother.
FOUR
“BAD DEEDS, LIKE PESKY SEEDS,
GROW INTO MOST VICIOUS WEEDS.”
—Primrose, Aromateur, 1715
MOTHER IS ONE of the gentlest human beings I know. Despite the tight rein she keeps on her emotions, she gets weepy whenever one of the soil engineers (earthworms) has a run-in with her shovel. Her fingers move light as mosquito legs as she nurtures the plants in our garden, hardly leaving a trace of her scent anywhere, unlike me, who tracks fingerprints all over everything I touch. But as sure as the hair standing up on my arm, she will kill me for fixing the wrong person.
Kali bumps my elbow with hers, jolting me from my frozen state. “Snap out of it, Nosey. We’re late for Cardio.”
“I—I just fixed Alice.”
Her eyes bulge. She’s the only one who knows the intricacies of what Mother and I do. When we were thirteen, Kali’s father brought her to help him build our trellis and Mother hired her on the spot. She said Kali “smelled good”—despite all the loneliness wafting off her like the moss baby’s tears.
In a few sentences, I tell Kali what happened.
“It was an honest mistake. Your mom will understand.”
“I can’t tell her. I screwed up a job.” I should have watched to make sure I fixed the right person. I flouted one of our basic procedural rules, but I was distracted. “She’s going to know it was because of a boy.”
“How?”
“She’ll figure it out. She’ll question me, and I can’t lie to her.”
“At least Alice’s elixir won’t kick in for another few days.”
A group of boys saunter toward us, pushing one another and laughing. I move out of their pathway so that I don’t accidentally contaminate them, when the one in front slows, causing a traffic jam with the rest. The boy wipes his palms on his ripped jeans and shuffles up to me. He clears his throat, toggling his Adam’s apple. “Um, hi, Mim. Remember me from Spanish?”
“Er, sure.” I remember the smell at least, elementary moss, and a salty licorice from the Netherlands. The latter triggers the memory of the seed vendor in Amsterdam on whom I dumped my yogurt muesli shake when he tried to kiss Mother.
I realize I’m lingering and shake myself from the unpleasant memory.
The kid, blue eyes staring at me, blushes, and I detect the grassy sweet smell of heartsease. I contaminated him. Maybe I breathed on him in the hallway. I jam my hand into my bag, feeling for my Boy-Be-Gone.
Kali slides her eyes from me to them and sighs. I give her a slight nod.
“Well, would you look at that?” Kali says loudly, pointing behind them.
The boys’ heads snap in the direction of her finger, toward Principal Swizinger in her dark suit and hose. The principal stoops and picks up an empty Doritos bag, which she deposits into a nearby trash can.
I depress the pump of my mister, disinfecting not only the kid with the blue eyes but the two closest to him in one pass. If nothing else, at least Mother will be happy at my economy.
Kali rests her chin in her fingers. “Someone should nominate the Swiz for a peace prize. A Greenpeace prize.”
As Blue Eyes turns back around, his grin fades. His whole face droops like he’s trying to remember the constant for pi. He stares at a cloud. Maybe the pi’s in the sky. Before he can speak again, Kali pulls me away.
“Could’ve sworn you sprayed him before. They’re all starting to look alike.”
“Mother will pull me out of school,” I hiss, back to worrying about Alice. “I haven’t even made it through the first quarter!”
“How are you gonna fix it?”
“I’ll have to make a Potion to Undo Feelings, though I’ve never done one before.” I put my hands to my cheeks, which feel rubbery and cold. “Mother made one ages ago. I don’t even remember what the Rulebook says about it.”