Zel shot another look at Linda. To her relief, Linda didn’t seem alarmed by the talking mirror. Surely the dryer was too loud for her to hear. Linda patted her bangs. “Another minute,” Zel shouted to her.
“I can’t do it,” Gothel said firmly.
Zel played her trump card: “Julie would be thrilled to see you.”
Gothel hesitated, and Zel began to hope. “Ursa has been doing some maid work at the motel recently,” Gothel said slowly. “She’s very good at making beds, and she has a knack for noticing things out of place. I suppose I could ask her.”
“Her husband and son could watch with her,” Zel persisted. “No one will mess with the three of them.” Julie would be so pleased to have her grandmother come to dinner. It would help make up for Snow’s seven being there.
Gothel chuckled. “You always get what you want, don’t you?”
With a sharp and sudden pain, Zel thought of her husband, lost so long ago. For an instant, she couldn’t breathe. She smiled weakly. “Nearly always.”
Chapter Three
After School
Waiting for the bus with Gillian at the end of the school day, Julie saw the orange Subaru speed into the school parking lot. “Oh, no,” she said. Hadn’t her day been bad enough? She wished she could melt into the sidewalk.
Gillian saw it too. “Maybe the bus will get here first?”
No such luck. Julie watched the car swing into two parking spaces. “Don’t get out of the car. Don’t get out of the car,” Julie said under her breath. But her mom’s friend Cindy got out of her orange car and waved cheerily at Julie.
“At least you don’t have to take the bus,” Gillian said.
“You want a ride?” Julie said.
“Uh, no, thanks.”
Bangle bracelets sparkled on her arm as Cindy waved. “It’s like a car accident,” Kristen March said loudly, behind Julie. “You don’t want to look, but you can’t help it.” Cindy’s chosen outfit of the day was a yellow taffeta top, pink Lycra pants, and clear plastic ’80s jelly shoes. “Yoo-hoo, Joo-lie!” Cindy called. “Over here!”
All the kids on the sidewalk turned to look at Julie. Behind her, she heard Kristen sputter in laugher. “Joo-lie,” Kristen cooed, “I think she stole your Halloween costume.” Knowing her face was flushed tomato red, Julie speed-walked across the parking lot. She felt dozens of eyes boring into her back.
“Darling, how are you?” Cindy said. “How was your day? Ooh, I think that boy is looking at you!” She pointed at a sandy-haired eighth grader.
Julie slunk into the car. “Please. Just drive.”
“All-righty-roo!” Cindy jumped into the driver’s seat, threw the stick into reverse, and flew back out of the parking spaces. She squealed the brakes. “Sorry!” Cindy called out the window.
Julie looked over her shoulder at Gillian and mouthed, “Help me.”
Gillian held her hand to her ear like a phone and mouthed back, “Call me.”
Switching on the radio, Cindy bopped to an old Britney Spears song as she peeled out of the parking lot. Soon, the school was out of sight behind them—Julie wished it was out of sight, out of mind. She leaned her head against the window and watched the Northboro landmarks zoom by: the Dairy Hut, Agway’s ten-foot rooster, Bigelow Nurseries. Ever since Kristen had mentioned her weekend with her dad, Julie hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her own father. In English, she’d been singled out twice for not paying attention. In math, she’d messed up problems. In history . . . The history quiz had included the question “How did the Middle Ages end?” All Julie could think of was the truth: the Middle Ages had ended when the Wild was weakened and the fairy-tale characters escaped in some grand, mysterious way that Mom never discussed.
But she couldn’t write that. She had scrawled an answer about the weight of armor and the problem with plague rats in Hamlin. At the last minute, she had thrown in the word Renaissance.
As they turned onto Crawford Street, then West, Cindy chattered about her weekend plans—in full, gory detail, to Julie’s acute embarrassment. Trying not to listen to comparisons of kissing styles, Julie focused on the road as they bounced up the hills to her house.
Mr. Wallace would read her answer out loud in class on Monday. She was sure of it. Maybe she could fake sick and stay home. Maybe she wouldn’t have to fake. She felt nauseous just thinking about it. Or maybe it was Cindy’s driving.
Cindy swerved into the driveway, and Julie got out quickly. “Um, thanks for the ride,” she said.