Bye-Bye, Evil Eye Page 10

  I have to stop myself from laughing as he picks out the tune. “Under Pressure.” He has absolutely no way of knowing how perfectly that describes my life these days. And I’m determined to do everything I can to keep it that way. I sit down on the edge of his bed and listen to the easy, low tones of his bass.

  “How long have you been playing?”

  Nick looks up from the guitar and grins. He’s to-die-for cute when he smiles. It actually hurts my eyes to look at him sometimes. “Since before I can remember. My mom says that even as a baby, I always chose instruments over toys. She has pictures of me playing Dad’s guitar on the floor when I was too small to lift it.”

  I make a mental note to ask Mrs. Barbas to show me some of those baby pictures when I meet her. When the song’s over, he puts the guitar back on its stand and comes to sit beside me on the edge of the bed. His eyes lock with mine as he circles his arms around my shoulders and pulls me close. I tense with nerves. Any closer and he’ll discover Mrs. P’s awful necklace. And then he’ll know about the curse.

  “It’s getting late. I think I should get going,” I say, pushing him away before he can hug me. I jump to my feet and step away from the bed. My hands fly up to my neck, checking to see if the scarf is still in place. Nick looks surprised at my reaction. But thankfully, he doesn’t argue.

  “Okay. I’ll walk you home now.” I can tell by the sound of his voice that he’s disappointed.

  I hate having to push him away. But what choice do I have?

  Overnight, Toronto gets hit with a late-summer heat wave. When I open my window, I practically choke on the air. I’m talking “fry an egg on the sidewalk” type weather. Turtlenecks and silk scarves are suddenly out of the question. What am I going to wear now? No way I’m going to be able to hide my eyeball necklace under a T-shirt or a tank top. I run my fingertips over one of the smooth glass balls wondering what to do. I consider taking it off. But it’s still too early to know if it’s been helping or not. Nothing bad has happened to me in five days — the longest stretch of time since this whole mess started. Does that mean I’m cured? Feeling brave, I pick it off my neck and lift it up to my forehead. I pause and wait, for what I don’t know. A lightning bolt? A clap of thunder? The roof to come crashing down over my head?

  Despite the heat outside, a cool shiver runs up my back. I drop the necklace back down with a thump. No, I should keep wearing it until I’m sure the bad luck is gone. Really and truly gone. Just a couple more days. I take a deep breath and head downstairs to the kitchen.

  “Dude. Why are you wearing that disgusting thing around your neck?” Toby asks, walking in halfway through my bowl of Lucky Charms.

  Putting down my spoon, I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and swallow the urge to reply with something snarky. “It’s just something Mrs. Papadakis gave me,” I say, oh so calmly. “This necklace belonged to her grandmother.”

  “Okay. But that still doesn’t explain why you’re actually wearing it.”

  I’m trying to protect you and the rest of this family from getting slashed to pieces in the middle of the night, like what happened to Rosie, I feel like yelling. “It’s supposed to keep bad luck away,” I say instead. Toby snorts and chugs a glass of orange juice.

  “And you think that thing is going to help? It looks like a prosthetic eye factory threw up all over you.”

  Now Charley joins us at the breakfast table. I brace myself for the worst. “It’s hideous. It makes you look like a freak,” she chimes in.

  Okay, that’s it. I push my chair away from the table. “Very helpful. Thanks.”

  I can hear them laughing as I storm out of the room. I feel like clocking both of my sisters with my string of giant eyeballs. Why exactly am I trying so hard to keep them from getting killed? It’s easy to forget when they treat me this way. Maybe I should just be happy it’s taken them this long to notice the necklace. After all, I’ve been wearing the stupid thing for almost a week now.

  Nick calls shortly after breakfast. “Want to come over for a swim? It’s going to be a scorcher.”

  Yes, yes, yes, I want to shout.

  “I don’t think so,” I say instead. “My, um, cousins are visiting from out of town. I have to spend the day with them.”

  Can he tell I’m lying? My conscience pings with guilt. But what choice do I have? There’s no hiding this necklace under a bathing suit. Nick’s Greek too, which means he probably believes in the Evil Eye. And once he sees my string of eyeballs, he’ll know I’m cursed. And then for sure he won’t want anything to do with me anymore.

  I can’t take the chance.

  “Cousins?” Nick asks. “You never mentioned them before. Can’t you get away for a bit? I really want to see you.”

  His voice sounds gruff. I picture the sad pout look that’s probably on his face and feel even worse. Man, I hate lying to him. But what can I do? What would you do if you were in my shoes?

  “Sorry, I really can’t leave them,” I mumble. “My parents made these plans for us a long time ago and I can’t bail on them now. I’ll have more time next week, I promise.”

  Because hopefully by then, I’ll be rid of this curse, I think. I hope. I pray. Honestly, I don’t know how long I’m going to keep this act up. At this point, I feel like I’m at the end of my rope.

  Turns out, I’m going to need a bit more rope.

  I go shopping with Mom that afternoon, hoping it’ll help me de-stress. We finish with a mani-pedi at the day spa around the corner. When we get home, we find the front door of our house coated in a layer of dripping eggs and a carpet of shattered shells strewn across our porch. Mom and I stand in the driveway and watch the oozing mess in silence. My heart is a block of concrete.

  “Should we call the police?” I finally ask.

  Mom shakes her head and sighs. “No. It’s probably just some neighbourhood kids playing a stupid prank. I’m going to walk around the house and make sure nothing else has been damaged.”

  I’m too upset to go with her. Instead, I pull out my phone and send a text to Kat: <911—EE still here>

  Without a thought for my freshly painted toenails, I crunch through the mess of broken shells, unlock the dripping door, and limp right up to my room to wait for a reply. A few minutes later, “Get Lucky” goes off in my purse. I fumble to answer it. Before I can even say hello, Kat’s words rush into my ear.

  “We need a new plan. Mummy says that the necklace might not be the answer.”

  I almost drop the phone. “Excuse me?”

  “She says it’s definitely helpful if you want to keep the Evil Eye away before the curse has been made. But since you’re already cursed, it’s probably not doing much. You can take it off now. She has another idea. Something a bit more drastic.”

  Are you kidding me? I yank the thing off my neck and toss it to the floor. “What is it?” I ask, pulling in a deep breath and trying to prepare myself for what’s coming next. Somehow, I know I’m not going to like it.

  “She wants to know if you have any garlic in your kitchen. You’ll need at least three pieces.”

  What a bizarre question. “I don’t know. Why?”

  “Mummy says a good way to ward off the Evil Eye is to carry garlic in your pockets. It has to be the real stuff — garlic powder doesn’t count.”

  “Isn’t garlic for vampires?”

  “Yeah. But it works for evil spirits too.”

  “But I’ll stink.”

  Kat sighs. She sounds frustrated. “Maybe a bit. But it won’t be forever. Mummy says evil spirits hate the smell of garlic. It’s a really effective way to send them packing.”

  Yeah, and everyone else in my life too. I can hear my words morphing into a whine. “You don’t seriously expect me to do this, do you, Kat?”

  Her voice hums with pity. “It shouldn’t be for long. Just until your luck turns around again. Then w
e’ll know that the Evil Eye is gone for good.”

  I let out a tortured sigh as I trudge down the stairs to search the fridge for garlic. What am I going to do about Nick? How on earth am I going to explain my new odour to him? I can’t help but wonder which would be a bigger turnoff — the garlic or the curse? One thing’s for sure, I don’t want to find out. I’ll just have to keep avoiding him. But for how long? A week? Two? How much longer will he wait around for me? What if the garlic doesn’t work? Then what?

  I decide not to think about that possibility. This has to work, I tell myself as I locate an abandoned bunch of garlic at the back of the fridge. I tear it apart and find six cloves inside. Kat says that three cloves will be enough. Maybe for anybody else, that would be fine. But I’m desperate. If three cloves are good, six will be even better. As per Kat’s instructions, I peel them and stick them all over my clothes. One in each pocket, one tucked into my underwear, two in my T-shirt pocket. I have one left over, so I put it in my mouth and swallow it, my lips twisting as I force it down. Now I’m ready to fight off the evil spirits with my own breath. I lean over and give my body a couple of sniffs but don’t really smell anything. A tiny spark of hope rises up in my chest. Maybe this cure isn’t going to be so bad after all?

  But an hour later when my sisters get home from the mall, they dash that bit of hope to smithereens.

  “Ew!” says Charley, waving a hand in front of her nose. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Toby backs away, her nose wrinkled like a bulldog. “You smell like a heap of garbage. No wonder people are egging our house. You’re disgusting.”

  I indulge in a smile as I watch them leave the room. At least I know the garlic’s working. If it can repel my dreadful sisters, those evil spirits don’t stand a chance.

  Now if I can just keep telling myself that, maybe it’ll come true.

  Nick calls again later that night.

  “Come on, Dani, can’t you just sneak out for a bit? I’m sure your family will understand. Remember how much fun we had the time we snuck out in Greece? And it’s a clear night tonight — perfect to see the stars. I’ll show you some new constellations.”

  My thoughts flash back to that night at the ruins. It’s so tempting. “I’d love to,” I start to say. But then I remember how my sisters reacted to my new, um, body odour. I don’t want to go out with him smelling like a heap of garbage. “But I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  His voice turns gruff again. “Not even for a bit?”

  Shoot. Why is he making this so hard on me? “Sorry, but we’re having a big dinner here tonight. You know how it is with family.”

  “Fine, then I’ll come over there. I don’t mind hanging out with your family if it means I get to see you.”

  My fingers twist nervous pretzel knots in my lap. “Please, Nick. Just one more week. Once my grandparents leave, we’ll see each other every night. I promise.”

  The phone line goes deadly quiet.

  This is where things really start to go downhill, you think.

  “You said it was your cousins who were visiting,” he finally says. His words are short and furry with frost. My face burns with a mortified heat. Is that the smell of garlic sizzling on my skin or just my sick imagination?

  “Yeah. That’s what I meant,” I lie. “My cousins and my grandparents. They’re actually all here.”

  But it’s too late.

  “Have a great night, Dani,” he says. Before I can say another word, he hangs up.

  Anger boils in my belly. I click off my phone and hurl it against the wall. It hits one of my little jewelled mirrors, shattering it into a spiderweb of broken glass. Another sign of bad luck. A crazysounding cackle flies out of my mouth as I stare at the ruined mirror. Fine, go ahead, I think, add another seven years to my sentence. At this point, I almost don’t care.

  Flinging open the door, I race out of my room and run outside into the hot night. My ankle throbs with each step as I stagger up the street. My head is spinning with so much self-pity that I can barely feel the pain. And my eyes are blurred with so many hot tears that I can’t see straight. I don’t even see the end of the sidewalk when I rush out into the street. And I definitely don’t see the big black minivan that’s heading straight for me.

  BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!!!

  The horn blasts in my ears. My heart freezes in my chest as my eyes fly up to see two glowing headlights and a big black bumper screech to a stop just inches from my body. A second later, the angry driver sticks his head out the window. His mouth is a black pit.

  “You’re lucky you didn’t just get killed, kid!”

  Lucky? Seriously? Despite my racing heart, I actually laugh. And then I cry. Right there in public. I’ve never done that before. I must look terrible. But for the first time since I can remember, I don’t care what I look like. What on earth is happening to me?

  My face dripping with tears, I keep running down the street. I have no idea where I’m going and I don’t even care. I feel like I might actually be losing my mind. After a few minutes of blind running, I realize I’m heading south — the direction of Nick’s house. But that’s dumb — he won’t want to see me now. Not after what just happened.

  I spin around and run the other way — this time towards the Papadakises’ house. But halfway there, I slow up. What exactly are they going to be able to do for me? Give me another crazy cure? No thanks. I’ve had enough of those. Where else can I go? I can’t get far on this ankle. And all of my other friends are still away at camp.

  My eyes foggy with tears, I begin to walk again. I really don’t know how I find my way home. It’s like there’s a pair of invisible hands on my shoulders, steering me in the right direction. A few minutes later, I’m on my own front porch. The eggshells have been swept away, but I can still see the streaky outlines on the door where the broken yolks dripped down the glass. I dash right past them, straight upstairs, and lock myself in my room where the Evil Eye can’t hurt me.

  Maybe I should stay here for the rest of the summer. Maybe I should become one of those hermits who never go outside. Maybe I can live off the packs of gum and half-eaten snacks at the bottom of my purses. I have my TV to keep me company, after all.

  Right?

  Right.

  Part of my brain realizes that I’m not thinking rationally. But a stronger, more desperate part of my brain has taken over. Still crying, I stagger to my bathroom, pull the garlic cloves out of my clothes, and flush them down the toilet. Even then, the smell lingers. So I jump into the shower and wash my body three times with my watermelon body wash. When I come out and dry myself off, I can still smell the garlic.

  Kat was right. That stuff is powerful. Too bad it didn’t do a thing to help me. I crawl into my bed and pull the blanket over my head. I just want everything to be normal again. It’s hard to believe that only a couple of weeks ago my biggest worry was getting a bad tan line.

  Now it feels like I’m fighting for my life.

  Chapter 16

  And so the next day, I turn to hermit-hood.

  To be honest, the first couple hours aren’t so bad. I cower under my covers, do some yoga breathing, and try my best to stay calm. But about halfway through the morning, the air in my room starts to get stuffy and the garlic smell becomes overpowering. Like, hard-to-breathe overpowering. I can’t even open my window to get fresh air because I know the heat wave outside will turn my room into an oven. I go to my bathroom and spray on some perfume. But that just makes it worse. Now I smell like lilac-scented shrimp scampi.

  Gross.

  I crawl back into bed and try to ignore it. When I don’t show up for breakfast, Mom must figure I’m sleeping in. But when I haven’t made an appearance by lunchtime, she comes looking for me. It’s about one-thirty when I hear her gel nails clicking against my door like a synthetic drum roll. That’s how my mother knocks.

  “D
ani? Are you okay?”

  I lift my head a couple of inches off the pillow. “I’m fine. I just want to be by myself today.”

  “Did something happen?”

  Yeah, someone put an evil curse on me and I can’t shake it.

  “Honey? Do you want to talk?”

  “No! I’m fine, really. Just leave me alone, please.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief when I hear her footsteps disappearing back down the hall. I settle down into a dreamlike trance. Not awake and not asleep. Just a loop of short, shallow breaths. The bare minimum for survival.

  Later in the afternoon Mom’s back rattling my doorknob. And this time, she’s brought the Dreadful Duo with her. “Dani, can you unlock this door? We’d like to come in.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Dani? Your sisters are here. They want to say something to you.”

  I poke my head out from under my covers and turn towards the door. What on earth do Toby and Charley want to say now? I hold my breath and listen. At first there’s only silence. Then Toby’s familiar voice, whining through the door, “Fine. Okay, okay …”

  Mom must have elbowed her.

  There’s a sudden pounding of a fist against the wood. “Hey! Sorry I was mean to you. You’re not disgusting. And you don’t smell like a garbage heap.”

  And then more pounding, followed by Charley’s voice. “Yeah, I’m sorry too.”

  I sit up in bed. My sisters are sorry? That has to be a first. For a moment, I consider opening the door and letting them in. And then I hear the unmistakable sound of Charley snickering into her hand. I should have known better.

  “Dani? Did you hear that?” It’s Mom again. “Your sisters are sorry. Can we come in now?”

  I dive back under my blanket. “No!”

  That does it. Now Mom’s mad.

  “Daniella Ryanne Price! If you don’t unlock this door right now, I will call the police and have them tear it down!” She’s screaming now. Told you she’s a screamer.

  “No!” I answer, calling her bluff. “This isn’t about you or Toby or Charley. I just want to be alone!” I know she’ll never call the police about something like this. She’ll just wait for Dad to come home and let him handle it. Luckily for me, he doesn’t usually get home ’til past dinnertime. Hopefully by then, Mom will have forgotten all about me.