Still, I really should call Spike. Not tonight, but maybe later.
Mikaela’s ready and waiting when I pull up in front of her apartment complex. She gets in, wearing a long black velvet dress and knee-high burgundy Doc Martens and smelling faintly of sandalwood. Her eyes look huge, lined thickly with black eyeliner and some kind of smoky gray shadow.
“I’ve got something for you, Sunny honey,” she ann-ounces, plopping a little package in my lap. It’s wrapped in the Sunday comics. “It’s your birthday and your Christmas present. Two for the price of one.”
“Thanks!” I’m embarrassed and pleased at the same time. I’d told her not to worry about my birthday. “Your present’s on the back seat.”
“Well, I’m greedy. I want it now.” She grins and unbuckles her seat belt so she can turn around and fumble in the back seat for her gift. I focus on driving and try to imagine Cody’s reaction to my goth snowman.
Mikaela picks at the elaborate ribbon, which my mom tied artistically around the little package. “It’s too pretty,” she complains. “I’m going to wreck it.”
“Just open it.” I turn the car down a side street next to the Orangebrook shopping center, following Cody’s directions to a strip mall I’ve been to a few times with my parents.
“Oh!” Mikaela draws a sharp breath. “Oh, Sunny, you jerk.”
I smile. I can hear her tearing off the plastic backing attached to the bracelet I found at a funky import store. It couldn’t be more perfect for Mikaela: a silver chain, inset with bits of onyx and burgundy-colored stone in jagged, irregular shapes.
“It’s no big deal.” I pull into the strip mall parking lot, maneuver the car into a spot under a bright lamppost, and kill the engine.
“It is. I love it. But I thought we agreed—no more than fifteen bucks.” She glares at me.
“I got a discount.”
She keeps looking at me. “You can’t buy my love with a bracelet. I don’t swing that way, anyway.”
I laugh. “It was cheap. I promise. One of my dad’s friends owns the store. Khan’s Bazaar on Seventh, okay? Jeez. Can I open my present now?”
“Yeah, okay,” Mikaela says. I can see her eyeing the bracelet, now glinting off her right wrist. “Just get it over with.”
“Shut up.” I tear off the newsprint wrapper. Inside, I find a small blank book with an intricately filigreed cover design, all silver spirals and knots on the black cloth cover. I turn it this way and that. The patterns glitter and twist in the dim light of the streetlamp.
“Mikaela. You drew these yourself, didn’t you?”
“Little old me,” she says. “And my silver marker.”
“It’s gorgeous!” I run one hand over the notebook reverently. She put so much thought and care into her gift. Meanwhile, I just got her some store-bought bracelet.
“It’s no big deal,” she says, and smiles at me. She always seems to know what to say when I freeze up. She doesn’t even need to read my mind. I smile back, relaxing a little.
“Oh,” she says, like an afterthought. “Cody asked me to give this to you.” She rummages in her purse and throws a small paper bag in my lap, folded down at the top and stapled. “I told him it was your birthday.”
I open it, curious, my stomach doing a little flip. Inside is a necklace, a slender silver chain with a tiny sun-shaped charm dangling on it.
“I pointed it out to him, but I didn’t know he went back and bought it. It’s cute.”
It’s beautiful. Too beautiful. My stomach flips over again. He probably didn’t pay for it. At the same time … he was thinking about me. I fold it back inside the little bag, and slip it into my purse.
“So where’s the party again? Cody didn’t specify.”
There’s only one business still open besides the Vietnamese noodle house, and Mikaela points at it.
I look. Immediately, I cringe.
“What?” She swats my arm gently. “Let’s go.”
I sigh and get out of the car. “Krishna Bookstore? Really?”
“What’s wrong with Krishna Bookstore?” She smiles at me wickedly and gestures at the hand-painted sign, complete with the Sanskrit “om” symbol in gold paint. “C’mon. It’s groovy.”
“I know it’s ‘groovy.’ I’ve been here with my parents. They bought a batik wall hanging.” Not to mention the ceramic bong that my dad keeps insisting is a vase, as if I have no idea what goes on when they’re laughing in his study late at night. It’s horrifying. They think they’re still in college.
I lock up the car and we head for the square of light spilling out of the shop window. The window display has all these crystals and geodes artistically arranged around a bunch of books with titles like Today’s Witchcraft and Your Psychic Potential, and CDs of whale songs and sitar music. My dad always makes fun of that kind of crap. Never mind the fact that he’s been known to shop here.
I hesitate outside for a moment. Mikaela turns back and puts her arm through mine.
“No need to be shy. I’m sure they’re perfectly nice people. Even if they are friends with Cody,” she says with a smirk. “Besides, you never know. You might actually like them.”
“Have you even met them?”
She gives me a worried look. “No, but … give it a chance, huh? Cody’s going to be there. I’m sure he’s already here.”
“Okay, okay.” I slip through the door as she holds it open. A sign in elaborate loopy handwriting, taped to the glass, says “If you are here for our special event, proceed to the Gathering Room.” The shop is empty, but I can hear voices wafting from an open door at the back.
“Must be where the party is,” Mikaela says, gesturing toward the rear of the shop. “After you.”
I start walking, see who’s standing behind the counter, and stop dead. I can’t believe I forgot this crucial piece of information.
“Oh, shit,” I mutter. “Antonia.”
“Huh?” Mikaela is distracted, fingering a crystal of smoky quartz. “Who’s that?”
“She’s friends with my mom,” I whisper. “She works here. I totally forgot.” I try to duck behind a shelf and sneak by.
It doesn’t work.
“Sunshine! Well, look who it is! Are you here for the solstice? I never knew you were interested in witchcraft! Have you heard about our Mother Goddess Group?” She has a huge smile on her face, and, oh god, she’s wearing glitter eyeshadow.
“Hi, Antonia,” I mutter. I have to get out of here. I don’t know what a Mother Goddess Group is and I don’t want to. There’s glitter all over her red hair, too, and she’s wearing a silver sweater that clings too tightly to her ample bosom.
“We’re just here because a friend invited us,” I say, trying to cross the room as quickly as possible.
“Well, it’s a lively little group; you’ll love it. I have to mind the store during the party, but you go right on in! Have a glass of champagne—I promise not to tell your mom!” She winks at me. Mikaela gives me this cross-eyed look and I almost lose it, so I grab her arm and we flee for the back room.
We stop in the doorway. About twenty people are standing in little groups around the room, and they’re all staring at us like we have horns. Or maybe like we don’t have horns—who knows what these people are into. Most of them are older than we are, in their twenties or thirties. The walls are painted an unnerving orangey-red color, with posters of nature and diagrams of people’s chakras. I recognize one of the chakra diagrams from my mom’s weekend yoga sessions. Thick white candles are burning here and there throughout the room.
I feel like I’m having a very surreal dream.