Bye-Bye, Evil Eye Read online

  A trio of footsteps stomp away down the hall. And then silence. Hours pass while I fade in and out of restless sleep. It’s strangely quiet in the house. So quiet, I can hear my empty stomach rumble and roll. Finally, with a sigh, I glance at my clock: 4:16 p.m. My stomach growls again — louder this time. Gum doesn’t take you far on an empty stomach. And I haven’t found nearly as many halfeaten bags of chips at the bottom of my purses as I thought I would. Andrea, our cleaning lady, must have gone through my closet and cleared out some of my trash while I was away in Greece.

  Just the thought of the chips makes my stomach moan. Trying to ignore it, I pick up my cellphone to call Nick. Maybe my hunger’s making me delusional, but I’m suddenly ready to tell him everything. If I confess about being cursed, maybe he’ll understand why I lied about not seeing him.

  I dial his number, but chicken out and hang up just before it starts to ring. What if he breaks up with me and says he never wants to see me again? Or even worse, what if he forgives me and then gets hit by a car on his way over here — the next victim of this curse? I’ll never be able to forgive myself. Maybe the best thing to do is to just cut him loose. At least until my life goes back to normal again.

  Chucking my phone into my closet, I dive back under the covers and try to ignore the waves of hunger that are crashing around in my stomach. Another hour ticks by. Just when I think the world might actually have given up on me, there’s a knock at my door. A soft, timid knock. Definitely not my mother or my sisters. I glance at my clock again: 5:30. Too early for Dad to be home. For the tiniest of moments, my heart flickers with hope. “Nick?” I whisper under my breath, too scared to say his name out loud. But a girl’s voice floats under the door instead.

  “It’s me. Kat.”

  My heart sinks. “I don’t want to see anyone.”

  I hear a soft thud. Like a forehead bumping against the door. “Please can I come in? I think I understand why you’re doing this. I’m here to help.”

  “How could you possibly understand?” I moan. “No one’s put a curse on you.”

  She rattles the doorknob. “Listen, I have a list of ideas from Mummy. I’m going to stay with you until we get rid of this thing, okay? One of these ideas has to work.”

  “Excuse me, but what are you talking about?’ Mom’s outside my door too. And she’s starting to scream again. “Get rid of what? Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”

  I feel the tears coming again. I’ve officially never cried this much in my life. Sliding off my bed, I shuffle through the mess on my floor and unbolt the door.

  “Fine, Kat. But just you,” I say, opening it up a crack. Ushering her inside, I push it shut quickly and turn the lock. She’s only been in my room for a couple of seconds before my smell hits her. She struggles to keep the grimace of disgust off her face. But it doesn’t work.

  “I know I stink,” I say with a shrug.

  “It’s not so bad,” she lies. Then, as if to prove that she’s telling the truth, she steps towards me and gives me a tight hug. I hug her back. She’s so skinny, even when she’s wearing a backpack, my arms feel like they’re holding onto a stick.

  “Why did you lock yourself in here?” she asks. “Your mother’s really worried about you.”

  I let her go and stumble back to my bed. I must be getting lightheaded from lack of food. “I’m not going to leave this room again,” I whisper, in case Mom or my sisters are listening at the door. “It’s not safe. Do you know I almost got flattened by a car last night?”

  Her face scrunches with worry. She takes a seat at my desk and pulls a small yellow notepad out of her backpack. “Cheer up. I’ve got a list of new ideas from Mummy. She read through that big book of curses and cures today. One of these will work for sure.” And then she does the most perfect impersonation of Mrs. P’s “sucking lemons” face. Despite my awful mood, I have to crack a smile.

  “So,” she continues, “the first thing on the list is a cure my Yiayia used to take whenever she thought that someone had given her the Evil Eye. It’s pretty easy, so we can go do it right now. All we have to do is go to a Greek Orthodox church and ask the priest for some holy water.”

  The smile dies on my lips. “What for?”

  “You’ll have to drink it, of course. But only after I spit in it three times.”

  Stale potato chip crumbs rise up in my throat. “Are you kid ding me?” I say. “What is it with all the spitting? It’s disgusting.”

  “Of course I’m not kidding. Didn’t you ever see that old movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding? Don’t you remember when they spit on the bride? Spit scares the Evil Eye away. Everyone knows that.”

  I shake my head emphatically. “Your garlic cure was bad enough. Sorry, but there’s no way on earth I’m going to drink spit. Don’t even try to change my mind, ’cause it won’t work. What’s next on that list?”

  With a sigh, Kat consults her notepad again. “Okay, you’re probably not going to like the next one either, but Mummy’s pretty sure it’ll work. Although she’s never tried this cure herself.”

  I lean forward, eager to hear. “I’m listening.”

  She’s chewing on the corner of her lip. Like she’d rather be anywhere other than here right now.

  “What is it?” I press.

  Her voice lowers to a whisper. “Well, Mummy says that if you go back to Greece and gouge out the eyes of the girl who cast the spell, the curse will probably be lifted.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I look at her very carefully, trying to decide whether or not she’s being serious. Crap. I think she is. A creepy feeling begins to tiptoe its way up my spine. I lower my voice another notch. “Are you and your mother insane?”

  Kat’s brown eyes widen with surprise. “No!”

  “Good. Because I’m not gouging out anyone’s eyes. I might be desperate, but not that desperate. And anyway, I don’t know for sure it was that girl from the beach. Costa’s a suspect too. What if I gouged out the wrong person’s eyes? I can’t believe I’m even discussing this. No, no — the answer is no!”

  With a shake of her head, Kat picks up the list again and scans her eyes down the page. “There’s one more thing on the list. It’s probably the hardest. But, according to Mummy, definitely the most effective.”

  “What?” I demand.

  Stepping carefully over my piles of dirty clothes, Kat crosses the room and takes a seat on the bed next to me. If she’s still offended by my garlicky smell at all, she doesn’t let on. “Mummy explained to me how the Evil Eye is all about jealousy. So she says that the fastest way to get rid of it is to give up everything in your life that other people might be jealous of.”

  I shrug as I look around my room. “Okay, like what?”

  “She gave me a few suggestions for you.” Kat looks back down at her list. “First of all, she said you shouldn’t get Rosie fixed. That car has probably been attracting the Evil Eye from day one. And she also mentioned cutting your hair — it’s too long and pretty. A shorter cut would be much better. And she also suggested that you go through your closet and pare it down. If you get rid of some of your fancy, expensive clothes and designer shoes and purses, people would stop looking at you. And then they wouldn’t be jealous anymore. And then the Evil Eye would be gone forever.”

  My first reaction is another emphatic no. “Sorry. What else is on your list?”

  That’s when Kat puts down her notepad and shakes her head slowly. “Like I said, that was Mummy’s last suggestion. There’s nothing left.”

  No cures left? Really? “So you’re telling me I have to choose between drinking spit, tracking down and mutilating a kid, or giving away my stuff?”

  Kat just nods, her lips smashing together in a tight, thin line. Standing up, I walk over to my closet and look inside. Stacks of shoes, piles of clothes, rows of purses teeter on either side of me. My eyes skip across the va
rious racks and shelves that line the walls. How much do I really care about these things anyway? Suddenly, the stuff fades away and my thoughts soar back to that day at the Greek airport when I didn’t know if I was ever going to get home again. In those awful hours, all I wanted were my parents, my home, my bed. And yes, even my wicked sisters. I don’t remember yearning for any of this stuff. Not even Rosie. Not even for a second. Clothes and shoes and purses and cars — these aren’t the things that matter to me.

  “Dani?”

  At the sound of Kat’s voice, the scene in front of me slowly eases back into focus. Man, there’s a lot of junk in this closet. Does all this really belong to me? Why haven’t I ever noticed how much of it there is before now? Maybe I’m like that Queen Cassiopeia from Greek mythology. Too vain and proud for my own good. And this is the universe’s way of hanging me out to dry.

  “Dani?”

  “Yeah?” I say, still staring at my overflowing closet.

  I hear the bedsprings creak as she rises off the mattress. “I think you should ask yourself, what good is all this stuff when you’re too afraid to even step outside your own bedroom?”

  Whoa. Good question. As I turn to answer, I catch a glimpse of myself in my shattered mirror. I rake a hand through my long hair and watch with horror as a grotesque, broken reflection of myself stares back. I look hideous. But I don’t care. I, Dani Price, don’t care how I look anymore. What the heck’s happening to me? I don’t even care about getting Rosie fixed. All I want is for the bad luck to go away. And if getting rid of all this stuff will lift the curse and make my life normal again, I’m ready to do it.

  I turn away from the shattered mirror and walk over to Kat.

  “I’ll get the scissors,” I say.

  Chapter 17

  Over the next few days, I go through everything I own and give away more than half of it. Belts I’ve never worn. Jackets I’ve forgotten I had. Purses I don’t carry. Shoes that are out of style. Jewellery I never liked in the first place. Kat’s thrilled to take it all off my hands, and I’m thrilled to let her have it. She’s in desperate need of a new wardrobe anyway. With every box I cart over to her house, I feel a surprising change in myself. A feeling of lightness seems to come with owning less stuff. Does that mean the curse is lifting? I’m not exactly sure. But what I’m doing feels good. Like I’m taking the right steps to get my life back again.

  I’m even getting used to my new haircut. I barely even care that it’s so short and choppy. And with the heat wave we’re having, the air on my neck is kind of refreshing. Mom, however, definitely doesn’t agree. When I finally emerged from my room that night after I let Kat cut it, she was horrified. Her eyes bulged out and all the colour drained from her face. She looked like a vampire from one of those cheesy movies.

  “Oh my God, look at you!” she shrieked, reaching out to touch my head. “What have you done?”

  “Come on, Mom, it’s only hair. Short is the style now anyway. It’s very Miley Cyrus.”

  She started crying and clutching at her head. You’d think she was the one who lost her hair. “Why? Why, Dani?” she wailed, grabbing onto the wall for support. “I’ll take you to the beauty parlour first thing in the morning — they’ll fix it up so it won’t be so bad. Maybe they can even put in some extensions.”

  But I refused. Honestly, the last thing I want in my life is more beauty. As far as I’m concerned, this is my last chance at ditching this curse and I’m not about to mess it up.

  That was a whole week ago, and so far Mrs. P’s plan seems to be working. Nothing bad has happened to me lately, and I’m actually beginning to think I’m in the clear. Of course, through it all, I’ve been missing Nick something awful. Has he been thinking about me? Is he still mad? Will he give me another chance? I’m aching to see him again and find out. Now that the bad luck’s under control, I’m really hoping we can start all over. So when the day finally comes that Mrs. P declares me cursefree, I hop on my old bike and ride straight to his house. I’m so excited to see him, I practically pound down the front door. After a few seconds, a tall, beautiful woman with a side-swept bob and glowing green eyes answers. I clear my throat nervously. “Mrs. Barbas?”

  “Yes? Can I help you?”

  It’s obvious where Nick gets his looks from. When she smiles, she looks just like him. Well, except for those tiny lines creasing out from the corners of her eyes. But somehow, this lady’s able to make her wrinkles look good. “My name is Dani Price. Is Nick home?”

  In an instant, her smile shrinks and those happy creases fade away. She leans against the door frame and cocks her head to one side, like she’s studying me. I shift my weight from one foot to the other while I wait for her to say something. I feel like a bug under a microscope. My fantasy about looking over Nick’s baby pictures with this woman dies a quick death right then and there. After the longest minute of my life, Mrs. Barbas finally nods and points towards the back of the house.

  “He’s in the pool. You can go right through.” Her Greek accent is strong and reminds me of Mrs. P’s, but I don’t mention that. I have a feeling that the less I say, the better. “Thanks,” I say simply, hurrying through the house before she can change her mind.

  The pool sits in the middle of a beautiful cedar deck, surrounded by landscaped beds of brilliantly coloured flowers. Nick’s alone in the water, face down, cutting gracefully through the blue water with his perfect front crawl. I watch him swim a few lengths — his arms paddling through the water, his skin glistening in the morning sunlight. Seeing him in his bathing suit instantly reminds me of our days in Greece. I miss our time there. More than anything, I want to jump right into the water, say I’m sorry, and wrap my arms around him.

  But I don’t.

  So much has happened in the past few weeks. And somewhere along the way, I know I’ve lost the right to act like his girlfriend. So instead, I kneel down by the side of the pool and tap his shoulder as he swims towards me.

  “Nick?”

  He lifts his face out of the water and looks at me in surprise. I take a shaky breath and smile my signature smile. Please, please, please let everything be okay. For a second, he smiles back and my heart flickers with hope. But the smile disappears and the light in his eyes clouds over with anger. With a splash, he pushes away from the edge of the pool. “What?” he asks, his voice as cold as a dead fish.

  My words feel thick in my throat — like a peanut butter sandwich that won’t go down. “I wanted to see you. We never got a chance to talk about what happened last week.”

  He stands up so we’re face to face and he rakes a hand through his dripping hair. My heart swells as I watch him. I take a deep breath and inhale a lungful of his coconut sunscreen. I think about Greece again. And how he told me I made a carnival happen inside his head. All day, every day, he said. The carnival can’t be over, can it? Another flicker of hope sparks inside me. And then he gives his head a slow, sad shake and the spark dies out.

  “Don’t do this, Dani,” he says. “Whatever we had, it’s over now. Okay?”

  My heart plummets into my flip-flops. What? Just like that? His words gut me so deeply, I almost lose my balance. I can’t believe I’m losing him after everything I’ve been through. I was so sure the curse was gone.

  I struggle to find my voice as I steady myself again. “It’s over? But, I don’t understand.”

  Nick’s eyes flash with disappointment. “What don’t you understand? First you don’t want to see me anymore, then you lie to me about your cousins, and now you’re surprised it’s over?”

  I can’t believe this is really happening. I reach a hand out towards him, but he backs away like I’ve got cooties.

  “Please, Nick.” I’m begging now, but I don’t care. “I had to lie. I was trying to protect you. You can’t break up with me over a curse. Or maybe it’s my hair? You don’t like it short? Or maybe —”

&n
bsp; He holds up his hands to stop me, sending droplets of water spraying onto my toes. “Stop, Dani. I really think it’s all for the best. We probably should never have been together in the first place.”

  How can he say that? My cheeks start to burn, like his angry words have reached out and slapped them. This isn’t how I planned for this conversation to go at all. I haven’t even gotten a chance to tell him how I’ve been fighting off the Evil Eye. And all the things I’ve done to protect him. I clamp a hand defensively around my guitar string bracelet. Is he going to ask for it back now? My heart feels like someone’s pushing it through a paper shredder.

  “Are you serious?” My voice has shrunk to a pathetic whisper. “How can you say that?”

  His eyes drop down to the surface of the water. “Come on, you know it wasn’t the nicest thing to do to Kat. Especially with you two being friends and all. Didn’t she get mad at you for going out with me?”

  “Mad at me?”

  He shrugs. “I thought girls got all jealous about stuff like that.”

  That’s the point when my head begins spinning like one of those dizzy rides at the amusement park. You know, those ones that make you want to throw up? “What are you talking about? Why would Kat be jealous of me?”

  Nick’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You mean she didn’t tell you?”

  “Tell me what?” I say, bracing my hands against the cedar deck. I have an eerie feeling that I’m not going to like his answer one bit.

  Turns out I’m right.

  “Our families have this, I guess you could call it an arrangement,” he says, wiping a stray trickle of water from the end of his perfect nose. “They, well … they kind of promised Kat and me to each other when we were babies.”