“Yeah... yeah,” Sebastian agreed. “He won’t teach again.”
“I don’t want to tell the principal.”
“We’ll go with you,” Meche said. “We’ll tell her together.”
“What if she doesn’t believe me?”
“She’s got to.”
Daniela uncovered her face. She nodded weakly. Meche sat with her and held her hand.
“It’ll be fine.”
T
HEY SHOWED UP
promptly at Principal Estrada’s office on Monday morning, asking for a brief meeting and were admitted into her office. Estrada sat behind her massive desk, photographs of former students decorating the walls, the history and pride of the institution reflected through the decades. She listened to them, hands clasped in front of her, and sat very still as Daniela spoke.
Once Daniela had finished she placed her hands upon the desk.
“That’s quite a story,” she said.
“It’s true,” Meche said. “Mr. Rodriguez is a creep.”
“Mr. Rodriguez has been with us for five years. He performs very well on his evaluations and has never given us a cause for concern.”
“Well, there’s a cause here,” Meche replied.
“Look, I understand,” the principal said.
Meche sighed with relief.
“It’s hard being a kid these days. All that sex in music videos on the television. There is very little sense of decency left. It’s terribly confusing.”
“What does that have to do with Daniela?” Sebastian asked.
Principal Estrada gave Daniela a kind, motherly look.
“Look, I talked to Professor Rodriguez already—”
“You did?” Daniela mumbled.
“Yes. Yesterday. He told me you tried to kiss him. He was terribly ashamed about the whole thing.”
“It’s the other way around,” Meche said. “He was trying to touch her boob.”
Principal Estrada rose, circling the desk and standing next to Daniela. She stared down at the girl. Daniela lowered her head, as if she were trying to look at something stuck to the floor.
“Did he really try to touch you?”
Daniela did not answer. Meche saw how she gripped the arms of the chair she was sitting in.
“Can I leave?” Daniela asked.
“I asked you a question.”
“No. Can I go now?”
“Yes. That goes for the three of you.”
Daniela rushed out of the office. Sebastian hurried after her. Meche stopped at the door, looking back at Principal Estrada.
Estrada sat back behind her desk, tidying her papers and utterly ignoring her.
“W
AIT,
” M
ECHE SAID
, running after them and catching up as they exited into the courtyard. “We can’t leave it at that.”
“We are going to leave it at that,” Daniela whispered. “She doesn’t care.”
“She doesn’t care, but we do,” Meche said. “We have to do something.”
“Like what?!” Daniela turned around, clutching her books against her chest. “What can we do?”
“Everything,” Meche said. “That’s what magic is for.”
“What kind of spell are you talking about?” Sebastian asked.
“Something to teach him a lesson, so he’ll never bug Daniela or any other girl again.”
Daniela and Sebastian looked at each other nervously. Daniela stared down at her shoes, biting her lower lip.
“Black magic?”
“Oh, black magic is the shit they say in movies,” Meche said with a chuckle. “Magic is magic.”
“It’s not the same to ask for money as it is to hurt a man,” Sebastian said, feeling terribly uncomfortable with the whole conversation.
“Like I don’t know it?”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
Meche’s eyes narrowed. She grabbed Sebastian’s arm, digging her nails into his skin. Like when they played Where Did the Eagle Land. Only not really, because there was this glimmer in her eye which he did not like. Sebastian brushed her hand off.
“Rodriguez must pay,” Meche said.
“Maybe,” Sebastian said. “But magic it’s not the way to do it.”
“Can we even do it?” Daniela asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Meche said. “I’m sure we can.”
D
ANIELA SAT IN
the front seat, nervously touching the steering wheel and staring at Meche through the rear-view mirror.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Daniela said. “I don’t have a permit yet. This is not even my car. If my sister finds out...”
“Shhh. I’ll be quick.”
“Yeah, I don’t know about this either,” Sebastian said. “You’re making an awful lot of assumptions here.”
“We practised.”
“Um, barely.”
Meche handed him the portable record player, placing the record on top of it.
“It’ll be fine.”
“Why don’t you let me go?” Sebastian asked. “I can do it.”
“Nope. I can do this and I can do it better than either of you can.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I know,” Meche said.
Meche jumped out of the car before he could say anything else. Sebastian stretched his head out the window. She went around the corner and rang the interphone.
“Yeah?” Mr. Rodriguez’s voice came through the speaker.
“Hi, Mr. Rodriguez? It’s Meche. I’m here for the tutoring session.”
“Oh, alright. Come on in.”
The door opened and Meche slipped into the building. She reached the end of a hallway and had hardly knocked when Rodriguez swung the door open, letting her in.
“You’re early,” he said.
“I caught a ride.”
“Good. Come in.”
Meche followed him, hands in the pockets of her heavy jacket. She eyed the living room carefully, looking at all the books and the photographs sitting on a shelf. She glanced out a window and saw Daniela’s car below. Meche checked her watch. Three more minutes.
“Do you want something to drink? Soda? A glass of water?”
“Water is fine.”
Rodriguez went to the kitchen, filling a glass for her. He handed it to Meche and she took a tiny sip, nodding.
“Mr. Rodriguez, you know I’m friends with Daniela, don’t you?”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Friends tell each other things, Mr. Rodriguez.”
He raised a hand, scratching the back of his head and smiling. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“I think you are.”
The man’s eyes narrowed and the smile grew a little crooked. “Are you going to start making accusations against me?”
“Oh, they’re not accusations. It’s the truth. Ten.”
“What?”
Meche turned her wrist, looking at the watch. Tick tick tick it went, marking each passing second.
“Eight.”
“What are you going on about?”
“Just counting down. Four.”
Meche paused.
“To what?”
“Candyman. Siouxsie and the Banshees,” she said.
The little minute hand reached the mark and Meche dropped the glass. It shattered on the nice, oiled floor of Mr. Rodriguez’s apartment. He stared at the puddle and Meche shrugged, making an exaggerated pout.
“Oops. Clumsy me.”
“What are you... maybe you better leave.”
“So fast? You don’t want to make a pass at me? Try to rub your dirty crotch against my side?”
“Hey,” Rodriguez said, stepping towards her and wagging an angry finger at her.
Meche raised a hand and a book flew through the air, hitting him on the head. Rodriguez stumbled, touching his head and looking up in surprise.
“Now how did that happen?” Meche wondered out loud. “Oh, yeah, it went a bit like this!”
She extended her other hand and a thick dictionary whacked him on the back. Rodriguez turned around, surprised.
“What is happening?”
Meche looked at her nails, flicking a finger, and a third book bounced against his leg.
“Magic,” she said.
She couldn’t hear the music but she could feel it outside, swimming up and stretching up her arms.
Rodriguez rushed towards her, perhaps thinking he could overpower her. Meche raised the glass shards from the floor, sending them flying into his face like darts. He fell on his knees and began to roll on the floor, crying like a little baby. Meche pressed a foot against his ribcage and looked down at him, feeling rather numb at the sight of his pained face and the blood.
“If we ever see you again, we’ll make it
really
hurt,” she said. “And if you ever touch another girl we’ll make you cut off your balls and eat them. Believe me, we can.”
She gave him a kick, for good measure, and slammed the door when she left. The whole building crackled with the power. When she leaned down next to the car, her hand rested against the hood and a little spark of electricity shot through her fingers.
Meche felt like she had just drunk a whole bottle of tequila. She opened the back door and collapsed next to Sebastian.
M
ECHE SQUINTED.
S
EBASTIAN
was smoothing her hair. She could feel his long fingers and the familiar smell of him that was... him.
“Mmm,” she muttered, smacking her lips.
“How’s it going?” he asked. “You’ve been out for ten minutes.”
“Great,” she said, feeling groggy. “I guess telekinesis takes its toll, huh?”
“Maybe it’s ’cause we weren’t in the room with you.”
“You were very near, though.”
“I don’t know the rules of this,” Sebastian said with a chuckle.
“Meche, you sure you’re okay?” Daniela asked.
“Yup.”
Meche sat up. Saw they were in motion already. Good. She rested her head against Sebastian’s shoulder, frowning.
“Are you guys hungry? I need to eat something.”
“Famished,” Sebastian agreed.
“How about
birria
tacos?” Daniela asked.
“Where?”
“By the subway station,” Sebastian said. “Take a left.”
T
HEY DRANK
J
ARRITOS
, lifted tacos with expert fingers while holding little plastic blue plates and elbowed their space around the crowded stand. Meche spoke.
“What are we going to do to Frankenstrada?”
Sebastian wasn’t sure he had heard her right with all the people around her, so he shook his head. “What?”
“What are we going to do about Frankenstrada?” she repeated.
“Meaning?”
“We have to punish her too. We can’t let her go on her merry way, can we?”
Neither Sebastian nor Daniela spoke. He grabbed a napkin, carefully cleaning his greasy fingers and wiping his lips. Daniela sucked on a lemon and looked down.
“Really? You pussies!” Meche said dismissively.
“Hey, I didn’t
enjoy
doing what we did to Rodriguez and I don’t want to do it again,” Sebastian said.
“Liar,” Meche said. “You liked the power as much as I did.”
He recalled the rush of power as the music played, the intensity of it coursing through his veins. The taste of raw anger in his mouth, pleasant and sickly sweet. But despite this, he had not enjoyed it. It was not something he would choose again.
“I did not.”
“Then maybe you are not a real warlock. Just some second-rate impostor.”
It stung to be called an impostor and her tone of voice made it even more painful. Sebastian snatched his Jarrito and sipped it, biting down on the straw.
“I didn’t like it either,” Daniela ventured weakly. “It was scary.”
“It was fucking awesome,” Meche said, chuckling.
“No, it was not,” Sebastian muttered.
“Okay. Then it wasn’t. For you. Whatever. She didn’t lift a finger against that pervert. Do you want to let her get away with it? Doesn’t that deserve some sort of punishment? I say it does.”
“Well, it’s three of us,” Sebastian replied. “And I vote we let her be.”
“Daniela, what do you think? Aren’t you still mad at Frankenstrada?”
“I am still mad,” Daniela whispered, her thin lips barely opening and letting the words out.
“Then should we punish her?”
“You don’t have to do what she says,” Sebastian said, reaching towards Daniela.
Meche pressed a hand against his chest, pushing him back. Not shoving. Her fingers just gently pressed against his shirt, the slightest of contacts and yet it had a very clear, sharp meaning. A defiance. It made him pause in his trajectory.
Meche, strong-willed, most often than not led the pack. He didn’t like the way she looked at him right now, eyebrow quirked, blocking his path.
“So?” Meche asked, turning her head, addressing Daniela with dark, piercing eyes.
“I do want to punish her a little,” Daniela said.
“Good,” Meche said, picking up her soft drink and taking a long sip.
“I’m full,” Sebastian said, putting down his plastic plate.
“W
HY ARE YOU
being a hard-ass?” Meche asked him.
“I’m not.”
They were standing at the bottom of the stairs to her apartment. She had her arms crossed and looked rather smug, lips slightly curved into a smile. He hated it, hated her, when she got like this.
“You think you’re better than us,” he said.
“Oh?”
“At magic.”
“Maybe a tad,” she said with a shrug. “I figured out the whole spell thing, didn’t I?”
“At life.”
“What are you—”
“I just want you to know, I don’t agree with what you are making us do.”
“I’m not making you do anything. We took a vote. You lost.”
“You can’t push Daniela around all the time.”
“Loser.”
“You think I’m joking?”
“Blah, I’m bored,” Meche said, climbing up a couple of steps.
He grabbed her by the wrist, giving her a strong yank. Meche stumbled down, bending against him.
She still stood two steps above him but she had almost lost her balance and was holding on to the collar of his jacket for support. He raised an arm, resting it against her back, holding her in place.
“One day, if you’re not careful, all your bullshit is going to bite you in the ass,” he whispered.
“Really, mister?” Meche asked, tipping her head at him. “You don’t scare me. I can hex the life out of you if I want to.”
“Yeah? Let me step back so you can hit your face against the ground,” he said.
“Try it,” she said, her hand inching up and resting against the back of his neck for leverage.