Bye-Bye, Evil Eye Page 6

  Chapter 9

  Thalia was so wrong. The fish at the hotel isn’t fresh after all. Two hours after eating what I thought was a perfectly good snapper from the restaurant’s fish locker, I came down with a hideous case of food poisoning. I’ll spare you the gory details, but let’s just say it wasn’t a pretty scene in the bathroom that night. Or the next day either. And in between all the waves of puking, I felt so sick that all I could do was lie in bed and wait for the nausea to go away. Kat felt sorry for me, but I could tell by her wrinkled-up nose that she didn’t want to hang around the barf chamber any longer than she had to.

  “You don’t mind if I go to the beach while you’re resting, do you?” she asks the next morning. “My mom is here to take care of you.”

  I shake my head and wave her off. She grabs her swimsuit and bolts for the door. For the first time since we left Toronto, I actually don’t mind hanging out with Mrs. P. The instant I got sick she sort of transformed into my own personal angel of mercy. She stayed with me the whole time, holding my hair back whenever I spewed chunks and cleaning out my vomit bucket when I got too weak to make it to the toilet. She stayed at my bedside for hours on end and held my glass of ginger ale while I took tiny sips through a straw. For the first time in my life, I’m beginning to appreciate this old-school mom thing. I mean, geez, my own mother never even made such a fuss over me before. If I wasn’t feeling so disgusting, I’d actually enjoy all the attention. But my flip-flopping stomach is making it impossible to enjoy anything.

  Time passes in a fuzzy green blur. “Why am I the only one who got sick from that fish?” I whine, sometime during day two of my puke party. Is it morning? Afternoon? My head’s too woozy to figure it out.

  “You’re probably just not as accustomed to the Greek food as the rest of us,” Mrs. P replies, wiping my sweaty face with a cool cloth. I groan and roll over onto my side to fight off a fresh onslaught of cramps. I think about my friends enjoying the beach and swimming in that silvery blue ocean and feel even sicker.

  “I miss Nick,” I moan into my pillow.

  Mrs. P takes my hand. “Of course you do, Daniella. And I’m sure he misses you too. You know, he told Katerina that he wants to come visit and see if you’re all right. But I said no. I’m sure you don’t want him to see you in this, um … unfortunate condition, do you?”

  I shake my head. She’s right. I haven’t showered yet. I’m sure I reek of vomit, and my skin’s probably a gross shade of green.

  Mrs. P tilts her head towards me and stares at me with those dark eyes of hers. There’s a gleam in there that I’ve never seen before. Is it kindness? Can it be possible that this woman is actually beginning to like me?

  “Nicholas is a wonderful boy — handsome, kind, respectful. I’ve known him since the day he was born.” She raises her eyebrows and smiles. “Have I noticed that you two seem to be getting especially close lately?”

  I nod and think back to the night at the ruined temple. Closing my eyes, I try to remember the feeling of kissing him under that canopy of stars. “I … I think I might be falling in love with him,” I whisper.

  I don’t know if Mrs. P heard me or not, because when I open my eyes again she’s in the bathroom refreshing my cool cloth. When she comes back she sits down beside me on the bed and places it gently on my forehead.

  “Being back in Greece always reminds me of my childhood,” she says, stroking my hair tenderly away from my face. “My family wasn’t wealthy, but we were very happy. I moved to Toronto right after I was married, but I left my heart here on the islands. Even though I’ve lived in Canada for more than half of my life, I will always be Greek first. When tradition and culture grow inside you, it’s very hard to change your ways — no matter where you go in life. Now that you’ve seen it here, I’m sure you understand. When the Greek ways get into your blood, they never let go.”

  She pauses here and her eyes go slightly out of focus — like she’s seeing something that isn’t really there. “Raising my daughter in Canada hasn’t been easy,” she continues, her voice rising with emotion. “As hard as I’ve tried to teach her the ‘old ways,’ I often wonder if she really understands what it means to be Greek. Sometimes I worry that no matter what I do, modern ways will win over tradition. And that my Katerina will grow up to be Canadian first … not Greek.”

  I have no idea why Mrs. P is telling me this stuff. But in a weird way, I kind of don’t mind. The sound of her voice is soothing — sort of like a lullaby. She’s still talking about tradition when I feel my eyes close and my body begin to fall into a deep sleep.

  Strange dreams fill my head. First, I dream about the strange girl with the blue eyes. She’s here in the hotel room with me, sitting by my bed as I twist and turn under the sheets. And when I ask for her help getting up, she puts a dirty hand to her face, pulls out her left eyeball, and drops it on my pillow.

  Then I dream Costa is running after me, catching me from behind and pulling me with him into the ocean. The feel of his stinking, wet breath on my neck is so real, my body freezes with panic. I scream a silent dream-scream and then he disappears like a ninja.

  Next, I dream I’m back home with my family in Toronto. My parents are gushing over me and telling me how much they love me and my older sisters are actually being nice to me for a change. They even hug me. Which is how I know it’s not real. My sisters have bought me presents — new purses and clothes and jewellery. And they drape them over my arms and neck like I’m a doll they’re playing dress-up with. And I’m loving every moment of it.

  Finally, I dream about Kat. We’re back at school together and it’s Grade 9 now. She’s walking down the hall like she owns the place — bold steps and bright eyes, wearing confidence like other kids wear hoodies. The sadness is gone from her eyes. And even though it’s just a dream, somehow I know it’s gone for good.

  Maybe that last dream is what finally cures my stomach, because when I wake up the next morning, I don’t feel like puking anymore. I sit up in bed and smile because, for the first time in two days, my insides aren’t turning cartwheels. I feel like myself again.

  “What time is it? Where’s Kat?” I ask, easing myself out of bed.

  Mrs. P hurries to my side and holds my arm until she’s sure I’m steady on my feet. “It’s almost noon. Katerina and Nicholas left for the beach about an hour ago.”

  “Great. I’ll go and meet them there.” I shuffle over to the dresser and pull out my bathing suit.

  “Oh no. You’re not ready to go out yet, cardio mou,” Mrs. P clucks. “You need at least another day of rest to get your strength back.”

  But I’ve already wasted enough of my trip in bed. There are only three days left before we have to go home to Toronto and I want to soak up every remaining minute of the beach and the water. And Nick.

  “Don’t worry, I’m fine,” I insist, heading to the bathroom to clean up and get dressed. Once I’m showered and wearing my swimsuit, I check myself out in the mirror. Ugh. My body looks scary skinny from all that yacking. I’ll have to eat tons of that yummy Greek fried cheese tonight to start gaining some of my curves back. Just the thought of it brings pools of water to my mouth. Yup, my appetite is definitely restored. I reach for my brush and give my hair a hundred strokes.

  When I finally emerge from the bathroom, Mrs. P hands me my leather sandals and a fully packed beach bag. “There’s a snack in there in case you get hungry,” she says.

  Man, a girl could really get used to this kind of service. “Thanks,” I say, taking my stuff from her.

  The skin between her eyes is pinched tight like a raisin. “But I really think you’re rushing things, Daniella,” she adds. “Come right back if you feel sick at all.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I will,” I say. But I don’t really mean it. Nothing’s keeping me off that beach now. Hoisting the bag up on my shoulder, I slip on my sandals then reach out to give her a hug. Her ha
ir smells of honey and almonds — like a yummy Greek dessert. My mouth starts to water again at the thought of food.

  “Thanks for taking such good care of me these past few days,” I whisper into her ear. Mrs. P hugs me back. Her body feels surprisingly small and frail in my arms. I wonder how I could have misjudged this woman so badly? After she’s been so kind to me, I almost feel bad leaving her behind in the lonely hotel room. But the ocean is calling my name.

  “See you at dinner,” I say, stepping away from her. With a wave, I hurry out the door before she can find another reason to call me back.

  It feels kind of funny walking again. The muscles in my legs and feet are stiff from two days of lying in bed. But I’m so eager to see Nick, I force myself to hurry as I start down the slippery rock stairs.

  Will Nick be as excited to see me as I am to see him? Will he sweep me up into his arms and twirl me around like he did to Kat back on that first day? Did Kat find someone to kiss while I’ve been away sick?

  I can’t wait to find out. But halfway down the stairs all my big plans for the beach shatter like glass when I feel something snap on my sandal. My left ankle twists under itself and a searing pain shoots up my leg. A scream of terror flies from my lips as I lose my balance and pitch forward. Craggy stones bite into my skin as I dive head over heels down the side of the rocky hill. I lie crumpled in a pathetic heap at the bottom. Tangled bones and broken spirit.

  This doesn’t look good, you whisper.

  Smart cookie.

  Chapter 10

  They tell me I have to spend the rest of my vacation on crutches. Can you believe it? I know, right? Completely made of suck.

  After fitting me with a tensor bandage and instructing me to stay off my foot, the doctor at the local hospital tries to make me feel better about the accident. “You should be happy it’s only sprained,” he says, clicking his pen in and out as he prepares to sign my release papers. “By the looks of those scrapes you sustained in the fall, this ankle could have been a lot worse. You’re a lucky girl.”

  Lucky? Happy?

  Please!

  What do I have to be happy about? I can’t go swimming or ride the scooters or hike over to the ruins for another date with Nick. I can’t take that windsurfing lesson I had booked. Or the paddleboard yoga class either. It’s a totally craptastic way to end my last days in Greece.

  Dear Mom, wait ’til you hear what happened today. I got an inside tour of the emergency room of an authentic Greek medical facility. I miss home.

  Nick and Kat are trying to help me feel better. They’re running around opening doors for me and making sure I’m comfortable. And of course Mrs. P’s happily put her “angel of mercy” cap back on. As much as I like all the attention, I’m still pretty bummed. I’ve never been hurt this badly in my life.

  When we get back to the hotel room, Kat does her best to cheer me up. “Let’s go to the beach. It’s low tide — maybe we can build a sandcastle.”

  But I don’t want to go. “No,” I pout. “I don’t want anyone seeing me looking this rough.” It’s the truth. After falling down that hill, I have enough scrapes and bruises to colour a rainbow. So instead, Kat does some funny impersonations to help my mood. She does the doctor with twitchy eye and clicky pen. She does big, lumbering Theo John. She even does a silly one of me hobbling around on my crutches with some exaggerated fake barfing.

  It helps. A bit.

  Okay, a lot.

  Before long, she has me in stitches. The non-medical kind, of course. “How did you get so good at impersonations?” I giggle as she flops onto the bed beside me. “Did you take acting classes when you were young?” She shakes her head and stares up at the white bumps on the ceiling. I wait a long time for her to answer.

  “I guess sometimes it’s just easier to pretend to be someone else,” she finally says. Her voice sounds small and hollow. I’m not sure what she means by that. But it can’t be anything good because the sad look is floating back into her eyes now. I change the subject fast, before it settles in for a meal.

  “I think I’m ready for the beach now.” I stand up, careful not to put too much weight on my bad ankle. “Maybe we can catch the sunset.”

  She bounds off the bed and helps me hobble down the long paved road to the beach. She chats like she’s all happy even though I can see from her eyes there’s something dragging her heart down. Then when Nick joins us, she gets even quieter. I wish I was smart enough to understand why. The three of us build a sandcastle together. We work hard on it, but still it ends up looking more like a crumbling Greek ruin than a castle. I pull out my camera to take a photo, so my parents will think I’m taking an interest in local beach art. “Smile, Kat,” I plead. “Don’t make me come over there and tickle you.”

  The least she can do is perk up for the camera, right?

  Wrong.

  At least Nick looks happy in the photo. More than happy actually. In every picture I take of him, he looks like he can reach through the lens with his grin and his perfect white teeth. “You make me feel like that,” he tells me later when we’re alone after dinner, scrolling through the photos. “Like there’s a carnival happening in my head, all day, every day.”

  I peer at him closely. “A good carnival or a crappy, brokendown one?”

  “A good one. A great one. The kind where they sell cotton candy on a cone.”

  “Pink?”

  He nods. “Blue too. Made in front of you in one of those round fluffy machines.”

  “Are there rides?”

  He puts an arm around me. “Big, fast, spinny ones. And ponies. All free with admission. And no lines.” He pins me to my seat with those golden-green eyes. “How do you do that to me, Dani?”

  I shrug and smooth back my hair, all casual and easy. Like my heart isn’t flipping like a Cirque du Soleil acrobat. “I don’t know,” I say, flashing him my signature smile.

  That’s not a lie, by the way. Just between us, sometimes I wonder why Nick likes me so much. And why Kat likes me too, for that matter. I know I’m pretty — people have been telling me that since I was old enough to talk. But I’m not the nicest girl around. And I’m definitely not the smartest. Sometimes I worry that my inside doesn’t match up to my outside. I know my parents like me because they have to. And my sisters don’t really seem to like me much at all. I tell myself there is good inside me. I know it’s there. I can feel it. I think you could see it too if you were willing to look hard enough. I promise it’s there. Just under the surface. Like one of those tiny, newborn freckles you get in the summer. You know the little ones that seem to float just under your skin? The ones you can only see it if you look close enough … if you focus your attention for long enough?

  Kat wakes me up way too early the next morning. “There’s something I want to talk to you about,” she whispers, rocking my shoulder gently. I open my sleep-crusted eyes to see her leaning over my pillow. Her morning breath blows under my nose. It smells like the ocean.

  “What?” I mumble.

  “Not here. Let’s go down to the beach.”

  I blink a couple of times to make sure this isn’t a dream. “Right now? I’m tired,” I say, muffling a yawn.

  “This is important, Dani. It really can’t wait.” Her voice is so low, like it’s crawling out of her stomach.

  Okay. So I’m intrigued enough to drag myself out of bed. Kat’s never been this mysterious before. Curiosity fuels my sloppy bones. When we get to the beach, we order some iced lattes from the café and find a good table in the sun. I let Kat take a couple of sips of her drink before I start digging for answers.

  “I’m going crazy with suspense. What’s so important?”

  With a sigh, she puts a hand on my shoulder. She has this look on her face like she’s about to announce something really awful. Like she ran over a puppy with her scooter. “I’m not sure how to say this,”
she starts, shaking her head.

  Is that pity in her eyes? “Not sure how to say what?” I ask, forcing my lips into a smile. Like I don’t have a care in the world. Like it’s not totally irking me to be the object of pity.

  “It’s about all the bad luck you’ve been having.”

  Kat’s hand is starting to feel uncomfortably heavy on my shoulder. I shift my chair to the left, but she just shifts along with me. “I know, right? It’s like I’m cursed or something,” I say.

  She leans so close, I can see the tiny beads of sweat lining her upper lip. “Yes,” she says. “That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking too. I was trying to figure it out the whole time you were at the hospital. But it wasn’t until we got back from the beach last night that I finally got it.”

  “Got what?” I demand. I wish she’d get to the point. The sun is hot this morning. I lift my hair off the back of neck where I’m starting to sweat. I try to wiggle her hand off my shoulder, but it isn’t budging. “What are you talking about, Kat?”

  “I think it’s the —” She pauses and looks around to make sure no one’s listening. Then her voice lowers to such a quiet whisper, I can barely make out the words. “— the Evil Eye.”

  “What are you talking about?” I pick up my napkin to shoo away a bee that’s buzzing around our table. “What’s the Evil Eye?”

  I guess my question must surprise her because her mouth falls open and stays that way for so long, I can see all the fillings in her back molars. “Better be careful, Kat, or that bee is going to fly right in,” I tease. Finally, after a good ten seconds, she picks her jaw back up and finds her voice again.

  “Are you serious, Dani? You mean you’ve never heard of the Evil Eye before?”

  I shrug and take a sip of my latte. “Nope.”

  Her grip on my shoulder tightens even more. Ouch! For such a skinny girl, she’s surprisingly strong. “Listen to me,” she says. “The Evil Eye is a terrible curse. Everyone in Greece knows about it. Mummy says it gives you bad luck — like, really bad luck. You can get sick, lose all your possessions, even die. I mean, why do you think she makes me wear this?” She lifts her wrist so I can see her bracelet with all the funny blue eyeballs. “And she once told me that beautiful people are especially at risk of getting the Evil Eye, so I’m thinking that’s what’s happened to you.”