Though they had played and teased each other in a myriad of ways, this didn’t seem like their regular games. He felt an ache—dull and uncomfortable—which made him wince.
Sebastian grabbed her by the waist and deposited her on the ground.
“Coward,” she said.
She scared him, the way her eyes gleamed. There was something ugly and much too cold in her, and it made him want to run off. But, as usual, when he took two steps back with Meche he wanted to take three forward. That was her most distressing form of sorcery, the hold she had on them.
On him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at school,” he said.
O
N
M
ONDAYS THE
students assembled in the courtyard for the salute to the flag. The national anthem played, five students marched with the flag and everyone raised their left hand, resting it against their chest. Sometimes the principal said a few words, before everyone shuffled off to class.
That Monday the students marched, the flag went by, the national anthem finished playing.
Sebastian, Meche and Dolores stood at the back of their group and watched as a teacher went to the microphone and briefly talked about an upcoming event.
Principal Estrada took her place, ready to dismiss them, grabbing the microphone.
She opened her mouth and croaked loudly.
The students giggled.
The principal, looking rather surprised, opened her mouth again.
The croak was louder. The giggles multiplied.
A third time and everyone broke down in laughter.
The principle doubled over and began vomiting, a sticky, dark substance.
Ewws
mingled with the laughter as principal Estrada bent down on her knees and continued to vomit. Finally she finished and rose on wobbly legs, stumbling into the school offices.
“Children, children,” said the physical education teacher. “Head to your classes. Now...”
Meche, leaning against the wall, grinned in satisfaction and began whistling a merry tune.
“A
RE YOU GOING
to give me grief just like Sebastian?” Meche asked her.
“No. I just said it was a bit extreme,” Daniela said.
“Why shouldn’t we be extreme?”
“You really have no fear, do you?”
“Fear of what?”
“Of what we are doing.”
“Why should I?”
“Because it’s dangerous.”
God, how was it dangerous? It wasn’t like there was a magic police force waiting to give them a ticket. Nobody could suspect them. Nothing bad would happen to them. Plus, she didn’t feel any guilt over the whole thing.
Power was meant to be wielded.
Meche snorted. “Dangerous for anyone who stands in our way.”
Daniela looked at her, shaking her head while Meche shrugged.
“Look, Estrada deserved it,” Meche said. “She crossed us one too many times and she got what was coming for her. She’s lucky we didn’t break her damn back.”
“Gee, I hope you never get mad at me.”
Meche draped her arm over the shoulders of a cardboard cut-out of David Bowie and eyed the records at the back of the store. It was a wash out. There was no Whiter Shade of Pale in the store and no records with any significant power. This seemed to be the case with most stores which offered new merchandise. Meche had found records with power at used shops, making her guess the power might be related to the previous owner or persons they had come into contact with; a patina that somehow impregnated the vinyl, like thumb prints upon the surface. This was a conjecture she had scribbled in her
grimoire
, but it made sense. And wasn’t most of everything pertaining to the world of magic a conjecture, anyway?
“What are you getting Sebastian?” Daniela asked, giving up the fight.
“I was thinking a Tom Waits album, but then I decided on a movie,” Meche said, her hands drifting over the records, flicking through album covers.
“Like a date?”
“Not like a date,” Meche frowned. “Why would you think I’d go out with him on a date?”
“Oh... No-nothing. It just crossed my mind. It’s all.”
“I’m done here,” Meche said, tossing the record back in its bin.
“He’s going out with Isadora again.”
Meche raised an eyebrow at that. “How do you know?”
“He told me. They’re going out on Sunday.”
“Sunday we’re supposed to practice! And why didn’t he tell me? This is the kind of thing we need to vote on. He can’t just run off...”
“Maybe because you would have asked to vote on it?”
“Ugh,” Meche said and bit her lower lip.
It wasn’t that she wanted Sebastian to practise every day, but this magic thing required some discipline. They were improving at the glamour and although they had triumphed over Rodriguez and Estrada, both spells had worn them down. The one they had cast on Estrada, especially. Meche’s body had ached so afterwards she ate a whole roasted chicken on the way home from the factory, famished and exhausted by the experience. But she could feel they were getting better. They needed to practise their powers, to explore the limits of their sorcery. To attempt bigger things. What else might they accomplish, the three of them?
But they would get squat if Sebastian went out on Sundays with Isadora. Of all the girls! Sure, Isadora was hot but that was about it. Meche felt slightly insulted that her best friend would go for the rich ditz. There was a vague, distant possibility, that Sebastian might actually get it on with the girl and ditch Meche and Daniela for full-time pursuit of his wet dream. With the circle broken, Meche was not sure she could make magic. Not to its full potential.
Maybe she needed to study alone, to see if she could cast hexes and spells without the others. She’d cast a hex by herself the first time, after all.
“Let’s head out,” Meche said.
D
OLORES FOUND THE
thimble in the back of her clothes drawer, packed along with old postcards, a pressed flower and pictures of her sisters. She smiled at the picture of the girls in their white summer dresses with the hair tied in pigtails. Finally, she took out the thimble and pressed it against her ear. She couldn’t hear anything but the faintest of whispers. Magic is for children, for the young.
“Grandma, do you want me to make the rice today?”
Dolores blinked and raised her head. Meche was standing at the doorway. Meche had already changed out of her uniform and into her day clothes. Dolores had spent half the afternoon daydreaming and had not even realized her granddaughter was home.
“The rice,” Dolores said. “Yes. I’ve got to boil the rice.”
She stood up and the thimble tumbled from her hands, landing on the floor. Meche scooped it up. She frowned.
“Feels warm,” she muttered. Meche raised her eyes and stared at her. “Is this—”
“An antique. From days past.”
“But—”
“Days past, my girl. Stories I’ve forgotten.”
Meche nodded and handed her the thimble. Dolores placed it in the front pocket of her apron and rubbed her hands together.
“Now, we need to make rice, don’t we?”
S
EBASTIAN KNEW HE
was a beggar at a banquet, invited only out of pity or as a joke. A new amusement. Perhaps he was an annoyance, simply meant to piss off Constantino, but he still appreciated the chance to go out with Isadora and her friends a second time.
Well, he could do without the friends. The boys hated him and the girls ignored him, but Isadora was what mattered and she listened to him chatter, smiled at a joke and even shared a bag of popcorn with him.
When it was time to part ways, she kissed him on the cheek and he practically sprinted all the way back home. He lay on his bed, lacing his fingers behind his head and wondered if Isadora actually liked him, if maybe, just maybe...
... the phone rang loudly. He tried to ignore it, but it kept ringing and he finally picked it up, pressing the receiver against his ear.
“Yes?”
“What took you so long?”
Meche
. Sebastian closed his eyes. “I was sleeping.”
“So you didn’t go out tonight then?”
“I went out,” he said.
“Oh.”
Was that disappointment, annoyance or regular variety Meche? He straightened up, tugging at the phone cord.
“What do you want?”
“I wanted to say Happy Birthday. But maybe you’re too busy wanking in the bathroom, so good—”
“Yeah, if I was wanking you already ruined it.”
“Gross.”
“You brought it up.”
“You confirmed it.”
Sebastian smiled, turning and looking at the wall with his maps and pictures of Europe. He pressed a thumb against Paris, which was a red dot surrounded by smaller black dots.
“Meche, do you ever...”
His finger slid up the wall, following a river and he did not even know what to ask, the words were all smudged inside his head.
“Thanks for phoning.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
M
ECHE WAS ON
the computer when the screaming started. She hated it when they screamed. If only parents could tear each other to pieces in silence, like civilized people. She turned up the volume on her Walkman until Mecano’s Perdido en mi Habitación was as loud as it could be.
It was not loud enough.
Meche decided to make a run for Daniela’s house. Daniela would bake her cupcakes which tasted like ass, but it was better than the constant shouts streaming through the walls.
Meche put on her jacket, grabbed the backpack and found her father also preparing to leave. He was pulling two suitcases down the hallway.
“What’s up?” she asked, placing her hands in her pockets.
He smiled faintly at her.
“Meche, I’ve got to move out.”
“What?”
Her parents fought. Like, a lot. But Meche could not picture them separated. What, was this temporary? When was he coming back?
“Dad—”
“I’ll give you my address, when I have it. You can come and visit. I’m going to be moving to Puerto Vallarta next year and you can come with me for the summer. It’ll be awesome.”
“Puerto Vallarta?”
“Yeah. It’s all part of the plan. The taxi is going to leave if I don’t get downstairs.”
He grabbed the suitcases and kept on walking. Meche followed him in shock. When they reached the door he turned around and gave her a hug.
“You be good, alright?”
“Dad?” Meche said, watching him head towards the staircase. “Daddy?”
“Get inside!”
Meche turned around. Her mother’s eyes were narrowed, her face was as hard as rock; no signs of weakness.
“He’s really going?”
“We are getting a divorce.”
“Why?”
“You don’t need to hear the reasons. Get inside.”
S
HE MANAGED TO
avoid Sebastian for a good number of days, but Friday, when Meche was crossing the street, she felt hands wrap around her waist and Sebastian lifted her, spinning her around.
“Put me down, please?” she demanded.
“Are you going to skip school with me today?” he asked.
“No.”
He set her down with a frown.
“Why not?”
Meche looked at her sweater’s cuffs, pulling at a little thread and shrugging.
“I don’t feel like it.”
“I’ve got a bag of chips and several cans of soda.”
“Oh my God, it’s my teenage dream,” she said, squealing with mock enthusiasm.
“Well, I dunno. You’ve been mopey all week.”
“So an overdose of salt and carbonated beverages will cure me?”
“It’s all I’ve got. Oh, and a record from Hombres G. What do you say?”
She wanted to wallow in private. Plus, if she kept skipping school the principal was going to phone her mom. But then... it might be fun. Meche weighed the negatives against the chance to get a sugar high and ended up sighing.
“Okay.”
M
ECHE AND
S
EBASTIAN
were hanging out in the factory. They lay on the floor, their feet resting against the wall and little bits of potato chips littering the space around them. The sky was purple like a bruise. They would have to light candles if they wanted to remain into the evening.
“My parents are getting a divorce.”
Sebastian put down the book he had been reading and turned his head to look at her.
“I didn’t know. When did this happen?”
“Few days ago. Just took his clothes and left.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asked.
“Because if I told you, you’d tell Daniela and then Daniela would bake cupcakes to make me feel better. And if I told her, she’d tell you and we’d end up having a heartfelt discussion about it. Which is totally not what I want. I mean, I don’t even know why they’re getting divorced.”
“But is it serious? Maybe they’re just having a fight.”
“My mom changed the lock to our apartment so my dad can’t get back in.”
He stretched a hand and caught a stray chip which had fallen on his shirt, popping it into his mouth.
“What does your dad say?”
“He called yesterday to give me his temporary address and to say he’s seeing about a new job in Puerto Vallarta.”
“You think he’ll get it?”
“I don’t know.”
Sebastian found another chip, trapped in the cuff of his shirt and held it up, staring at it. He was glad when his parents divorced. Their separation ended his father’s beatings, but Meche’s dad did not beat her and he was always nice to Sebastian when he went by the apartment.
“The worst part is my mom is getting totally overbearing. Like we couldn’t meet at my place today because then she’d flip out.”
“Why?” Sebastian asked, frowning.
“Because she’s nuts. She has this fixation; thinks you’re my ‘secret’ boyfriend. Right now, she’d probably imagine we are totally making out. It’s gross.”
Sebastian frowned. “I’m gross?”
“No, you dummy. My mother’s bizarre nightmares about teenagers making out are gross.”
Sebastian tucked an arm behind his head, deep in thought.
“So what you’re saying is making out with me would
not
be gross?”