“If she was truly psychic, wouldn’t she know we were here?” I whispered.
“Maybe she does and doesn’t want to talk to us,” Abby said pensively.
But I was suspicious. Maybe Dr. Meadows wasn’t going to come out right away so she could overhear our discussions. Or maybe she was watching us on a hidden camera.
Abby perused books on witches, and Ivy headed straight for the jewelry displays. Any gift shop was a potential sale to her. She was sizing up some aquamarine earrings that matched her eyes. I thought they were beautiful, and if I had more money, I, too, would have loved a pair. I caressed the glassy stones, trying to figure out how long it would take for me to buy them. Ivy didn’t even bat an eyelash.
“That’s not why we are here,” Abby said, taking the earrings from Ivy and returning them to the jewelry stand.
Abby rapidly tapped a bell on the counter.
“Maybe she’s back there casting a spell or something,” she said. “Or making potions.”
No one came out to wait on us. We were certain the store was open but not sure how long we should stay. My friends were often impatient—but not this time.
“We can leave,” I offered.
“Not without my receipt,” Abby said. “If you think I’m going to be Dylan’s servant for a week . . . I can only imagine the horrors he’ll ask of me. Clean his locker? Forget it. Besides, I’ve been thinking all day of things I can have him do. I really could use a back massage.”
“And Jake can return those skirts I bought at the mall,” Ivy said.
I wondered what I’d ask Nash to do as my servant. Carry my books? My backpack worked fine. Do my homework? I wasn’t a cheater. Clean my room? He never came over. Then it occurred to me. The one thing that would really make Nash squirm. I’d have him host a party and make him invite a Westsider.
“You’re right,” I said. “We need to get those receipts!”
Now I tapped the bell.
A woman appeared, startling all of us.
“I’m so sorry to keep you girls waiting. I hope you had a chance to look around. What brings you in today?”
“Are you Dr. Meadows?” Abby asked.
“Yes, have you heard of me?” she asked incredulously.
Dr. Meadows’s appearance wasn’t that of a typical doctor. She didn’t wear a lab coat or scrubs. She also didn’t look like a witch doctor. She did, however, have long gray hair tied back in a ponytail, and she wore an oversized silk blouse, a floor-length scrunchie skirt, and layered beaded necklaces. I guessed she was in her fifties.
Dr. Meadows had a gentle energy around her. Not that I was an aura reader, but I imagined hers to be a mixture of warm and bright hues.
“We’d like our fortunes told,” Abby said.
“You mean an interpretive reading?” she asked as if fortune-telling was so “yesterday.” “Have you had one before?”
Again, I figured she should already know this, but I just shook my head.
Dr. Meadows turned the sign hanging on the door from OPEN to CLOSED.
“We can’t have any distractions,” she said. “Let’s go into the reading room.”
The reading room was painted indigo blue, with a hanging teardrop chandelier. There was a square table with chairs on each end. In the corner were a small waterfall and a tea service.
“I thought you’d have a spooky room with a crystal ball,” Abby said.
I wouldn’t admit it to Dr. Meadows, but I was surprised, too. Though I didn’t subscribe to her New Age philosophy, I certainly respected that this was her establishment, not ours.
“I’ll go first,” I offered. I just wanted to get this over with.
“No—I will,” Abby bulldozed, and scooted into the chair before I could land on it. Ivy and I took the empty chairs by the tea service and observed.
Dr. Meadows took Abby’s hand and matched her gaze. Then the doctor closed her purple-painted eyelids. I imagined she was planning her dinner menu.
“You are a very spirited girl,” she began. “That is good. It will take you far. But you can relax. It is okay to slow down. You have your whole life ahead of you.”
“Wow—she’s good,” Abby said.
I wasn’t impressed. Just by looking at Abby, a stranger could tell she was athletic and high-strung. And it wasn’t much of a reading, I thought. Was she going to meet a handsome stranger? Was she going to win the grand prize on a reality show?
Ivy and Abby swapped chairs. Ivy’s hand was ultrafeminine, as dainty as the porcelain teacup. Her perfectly manicured nails were without a hangnail or uneven polish like mine.
“Worldly things are very important to you,” Dr. Meadows said. “But it is okay to find the things that matter most inside.”