Bye-Bye, Evil Eye Read online

  When I walk back into my house, I think I actually might break down and start crying with relief. It feels so good to be home again, I even hug my dreadful sisters, Toby and Charley, who are both so shocked that they don’t even push me away. It’s almost like the surreal dream I had that night in Greece when I was sick.

  While Dad brings my bags in from the car, I limp upstairs to my room, sink onto my bed, and hug my pillow and duvet like they’re a pair of long-lost friends. Believe me, you never realize how much you’ll miss the things that are important to you until there’s a chance you’ll never see them again.

  I sigh deeply and flip onto my back as my eyes greedily gobble up the familiar details of my room. My lavender walls — the colour that I insisted on when I was ten because it was the biggest colour on the Paris runways that year. My walk-in closet, overflowing with my collection of clothes, shoes, and purses. Then there’s my wall of photos of me and my friends — with a couple of blank places where I took down pictures of Alec the Hockey Jerk right before leaving for Greece. I make a mental note to put up a few of Nick once I get my vacation photos printed. I catch my reflection in one of the little jewelled mirrors that hang in a circle above my dresser. My tan looks fab, but my eyes are all tired and stressed. Hopefully it’s nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix. I want to be sure to look perfect for Nick when we see each other again.

  “Knock-knock, Danz,” Dad says, walking through the door with my bags. “Do you need any help unpacking?”

  Dropping my pillow, I sit up and swing my legs off the bed. “No, thanks. I’ll be okay.”

  “Come down when you’re done. We want to hear all about your trip. Don’t start getting on the phone with all your friends before we’ve had a chance to talk to you first.”

  I snort under my breath. What friends? All of them are still away at overnight camp. Right now, the only friend I have left in the city is Kat. And, of course, Nick.

  Just the thought of him perks me up. Now that we’re back in Toronto, I can’t wait to see his house, meet his friends, introduce him to my parents. My cellphone starts ringing, breaking through my daydream. Maybe it’s him, I think, scrambling around my room to answer it as fast as my crutches will allow. Kneeling down on my pink carpet, I follow the muffled sound of Daft Punk’s “Get Lucky” as I burrow through my stuff. I check my purse, my jacket pocket, my carry-on bag — but no phone. Just when I think my voice mail is going to click on, I find it tucked inside one of my purple Chucks at the bottom of my suitcase. I pull it out and flip it open, trying to ignore the smelly-foot stink that’s clinging to the plastic cover.

  “Hello?” I breathe, smiling my signature smile. I don’t know why — it’s not as if Nick can see me through the phone.

  “Hey, you’re back! How was the flight? Did Mummy drive you crazy? She did, didn’t she?”

  “Kat? Slow down.” She’s talking so fast it’s hard to make out her words.

  “I’m so sorry I couldn’t stay at the airport with you. Mummy’s insane when it comes to Greek things — like it’s such a big deal if I miss one summer school class. Do you hate me?”

  I shake my head even though I know she can’t see me. “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine. Really.”

  “Okay, but you hate Mummy, right? You do, don’t you? You can tell me the truth now that we’re home. I can handle it.”

  I stand up, struggling to keep my balance on my good foot. As tempted as I am to vent about Mrs. P, I like Kat too much to tell her the truth. “No, of course I don’t hate her. In fact, with all the junk that went wrong on this trip, I needed someone like your mom to take care of me.” I sigh into the phone. I don’t want to talk about Mrs. P anymore. “So how was your flight back with Nick?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

  There’s an awkward pause on the line. “It was fine,” she finally says. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  I don’t know why, but Kat’s voice sounds defensive. I choose my next words carefully. “It’s just that you’ve been acting a bit strange around him lately. Like you’re annoyed with him or something.”

  “No, I’m fine. Really.”

  Her words don’t match up with the tone of her voice. I exhale hard into the phone. “Look, Kat. I can tell something’s bothering you. Are you totally, completely sure you don’t want him for yourself? Because if you do …” My voice trails off as I try to figure out the ending to that sentence. Would I break up with Nick if Kat wanted me to? Maybe. Probably. Gosh, I don’t know.

  “Would you stop it?” she says. “I’ve told you already a million times, I’m not interested in Nick. Okay?”

  This time, the words definitely match up with the voice. Relief melts over me like sugar on hot cereal. “Okay, sorry. I just want to be sure.” I hobble over to my nightstand so I can read the bright red numbers of my alarm clock. 9:37. I want to call Nick before it gets too late.

  “Now we still have to figure out what to do about the Evil Eye,” she says. “I think you should talk to Mummy —”

  No. Not this again. “It’s getting late, Kat,” I cut in. “I’ve got tons of unpacking to do. Plus my parents want the deets on my trip. Can we talk about this another time?” But I don’t really mean that. This is just one of those things we’re never going to see eye to eye on. How can I make her understand that? I open my wallet to search for the scrap of paper where I wrote Nick’s cell number.

  Kat’s voice in my ear turns serious. “No. This is important, Dani. It really can’t wait.”

  I smile as I find the number tucked behind my credit card. “Okay, talk to you later,” I say, guilt pinging my conscience as I click the phone off. I don’t want to talk about silly superstitions anymore.

  I want to call Nick.

  Chapter 13

  As much as I loved Greece, it feels good to be back in Toronto again. Before I left, Mom said something about how maybe I’d “start to appreciate the little luxuries of home” after I went away for a while. I hate to admit it, but she was so right. It feels great to be sleeping in my own bed, eating Timbits for breakfast, and, of course, taking freshwater showers again (the saltwater showers at the Olympic Palace were brutal on my hair). But definitely the best part about being home is getting my freedom back. Poor Kat. I don’t know how she copes with her mother and her ever-watchful eye.

  Two nights after our return, Nick comes over to meet my parents. They have this rule that I’m not allowed to go out with any boy they haven’t met. It goes perfectly, of course. Nick shakes their hands and says all the right things. He’s probably every parent’s dream. Even my sisters seem charmed by him.

  Because my ankle still isn’t completely healed yet, he insists we should do something that doesn’t require much walking. So we end up going for dessert at a local neighbourhood restaurant with candles on every table and frescoed walls. We order milkshakes and split a piece of chocolate cake. My stomach is turning somersaults just seeing him again, so it’s hard to eat much. But of course, I don’t tell him about the somersaults. I’m kind of surprised at how much I’ve missed him. After all, it’s only been three days since we left Greece. But it feels like ages.

  It’s nice being with him here in Toronto, dressed in regular city clothes instead of bumming on the beach in our bathing suits. After dessert, we walk a bit around the neighbourhood. When my ankle gets sore, he lifts me up and carries me piggyback, which is cute and kind of romantic. Kat would freak out if she could see us. It’s just like something out of one of her books.

  Nick ends up piggybacking me all the way back to my driveway. He lowers me down gently until we’re both standing beside Rosie (who’s normally parked inside the garage, so I guess Dad must have left her outside after taking her for a spin today). And then Nick turns around and puts a hand around my shoulder just as a warm summer breeze ruffles through the leaves of the giant spreading maple tree on my front lawn. A whispery serenade.
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br />   “You have a new freckle,” he says, touching his fingers to my cheek. A crop of goosebumps rises up over my bare arms. He’s staring at me with the most mysterious smile on his face.

  “There’s something I want to give you.” His voice is raspy — like there’s a popcorn husk stuck in his airway. That’s when I notice his right hand is tucked behind his back. My heart floats up into my mouth.

  “What is it?”

  “No, close your eyes first.”

  I squeeze them shut. I’m so curious, I almost forget to breathe.

  “Now give me your hand.”

  I reach my right hand out slowly and wait. A second later, I feel his warm, slightly calloused fingers brushing across my arm. I can’t help shivering — his touch is still like an electric shock against my skin.

  “Okay, you can look now,” he says after a minute.

  My eyes fly open to see what he’s given me. There, snaking across my wrist, is a thin rope of twisted silver wires. I bring my hand closer to my face, peering at the gift through the dim light of the streetlamp. “Oooh, it’s beautiful, Nick,” I say quickly, careful not to hurt his feelings with anything less than enthusiasm. But just between you and me, I’m having a hard time figuring out what’s so special about a bracelet made out of wires.

  “I made it for you from some of my electric guitar strings,” he explains. His voice is barely louder than a whisper, like I’m a deer he might scare away by speaking too loudly. “I just wanted to give you something to let you know how much you mean to me. Music is my life and … uh, I wanted to share a piece of that with you.”

  Yeah. Now the bracelet really is beautiful. I twirl the silver wires around my wrist, inspecting the neatly finished ends and the perfect symmetry of the design. “I can’t believe it. You really made this?” My eyes rise up to find his. It’s hard to tell through the dark, but it looks like he’s blushing. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to say. This bracelet is probably one of the nicest things anyone’s ever given me. Tears spring to my eyes, but I blink them away before they can show.

  Nick clearly doesn’t know what to make of my silence. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want,” he says with a shake of his head. “It was just an idea …”

  “No, I want to wear it,” I insist, clamping my hand over the bracelet so he can’t change his mind and take it back. “It’s perfect,

  Nick. Thank you.” I throw my arms around his neck and pull him close. “I’ll wear it forever,” I whisper into his ear.

  “I’m happy,” he says, and I feel his body relax against mine.

  I really want to say more. I want to tell him how much he means to me and how I’ve never met anyone like him before and how I think I’m really and truly falling in love for the first time in my life. But I don’t know how to say that to him. And somehow, I don’t think I have to. Wearing his bracelet says it all.

  Yeah, things are definitely starting to look up for me again. Nick and I are taking our relationship to the next level, my ankle’s healing nicely, and I have a few weeks left to get my tan perfect before high school starts in September.

  Bye-bye, Evil Eye, I think with a laugh.

  But the very next morning, all my happiness goes down the toilet.

  I wake up to the sound of yelling. Well, actually it’s more like screaming. My mother screaming, to be specific. I wrap my pillow around my ears, trying to muffle the noise. My mother screaming at one of us isn’t so unusual. I’m just happy her irritation isn’t directed at me this time. Wonder which of my sisters is in trouble? I think, squeezing my eyes shut and hoping to slip back to sleep.

  But then, through the silk of my pillowcase, I hear my name in the screams.

  “Dani! Dani!”

  My eyelids flip open and my head pops up like a jack-in-the box. My thoughts skitter back over the past couple of days, trying to figure out what I possibly might have done wrong. Maybe she found the chocolate stain I accidentally spilled on the suede purse I “borrowed” from her closet last night. Just as I’m trying to formulate a good excuse, I hear the screen door slam and then the yelling suddenly goes blurry.

  “Dani … down right … oh my … been attacked!”

  What? Attacked? Who? I spring out of bed and fly down the stairs as fast as my sore ankle will allow. My throat’s suddenly thick with a growing sense of panic. “Mom? Dad? What’s going on?” I manage to gasp, my throat closing over the words.

  But when I get downstairs, there’s no one there. I hobble frantically from room to room until I finally notice the front door hanging halfway open, as if someone left in a hurry. I limp outside to see my entire family standing in the driveway, each of their mouths pursed in a perfect circle of shock. I do a quick head count — Mom, Dad, Toby, and Charley. All of them are there. And none of them are bleeding to death. I want to cry with relief. “You scared me!” I pant. “What’s all that screaming ab—”

  I shut up when I see Toby raise her arm and silently point to Rosie. I follow the direction of her finger until I see it. That’s when I start to scream too. Cute little Rosie has been attacked! Someone’s slashed her tires, dissected her convertible top, and ripped up her beautiful red paint with their key. Rosie’s completely and utterly ruined.

  My knees buckle from the shock. Thankfully, Dad runs over and catches me before I hit the pavement. “It’s okay. It’s just a car,” he says in my ear, pulling me back to my feet. “We’ll call the police and they’ll find who did this.”

  He tries to turn me the other way, but I resist. As horrible as it is, I just can’t tear my eyes away from the ruined mess on my driveway. What kind of sicko would do something like this?

  “It must have happened while we were sleeping,” I hear one of my sisters say.

  “At least the other cars weren’t hurt,” says the other. I think it’s the other.

  “Are you all right, Dani?” someone else asks. Probably Mom, but I’m not sure. I’m having a hard time focusing on their voices because Thalia’s words of warning are pounding through my brain louder than a cranked-up bass line.

  Beauty attracts a lot of attention — both good and bad. Be careful.

  My head’s spinning overtime as my brain makes the connection. This is what she was talking about that night on the beach after Costa tried to kiss me. It’s the same thing Kat has been trying to tell me about that Evil Eye thing. Oh God, I am cursed. They were both right all along.

  “Danz?” This time it’s my father’s voice speaking to me. And I can feel his arms tighten around my waist, shoring me up so I won’t fall again. “I’m so sorry, I should have parked Rosie in the garage last night. But don’t be sad. It’s going to be okay. We’ll get her fixed.”

  I shake my head, trying to swallow the sickening lump of fear that’s rising in my throat. This bad luck is getting out-of-control scary. If something like this can happen to Rosie, there’s no way of telling what other terrible things are coming my way. Or my family’s, or my friends’ … or Nick’s. I stare at the shredded car in front of me. Everyone I love is potentially in danger. I have to do something to get rid of this curse. And I have to do it fast.

  Next thing I know, Mom’s taking my hand and leading me back into the house. “We better call the police. I’m sure they’ll want to take some photos. Maybe even comb the car for evidence. Come inside, Dani, before you catch a cold. This isn’t Greece, you know.”

  I look down and notice for the first time that I’m wearing nothing but a T-shirt and a faded pair of Little Miss Giggles underwear. Pulling the tee down to cover my behind, I follow Mom inside the house. Tears sting the backs of my eyelids as I hobble back up to my room and dig my phone out from under the pile of clothes on my floor. My hand’s shaking as my thumb skips over the dial pad. Luckily, Kat answers on the first ring.

  “Hey, can I com
e over?” I say, trying hard to keep my voice from breaking. “I need to talk to you. Like, now.”

  Chapter 14

  Toby drives me to the Papadakises’ house in her car. “I hope the police catch whoever did this,” she says as we turn onto Kat’s street. “The thought of some psychopath prowling around our street is just so creepy. I mean, I don’t know what kind of weapon this guy was using, but we’re lucky he didn’t kill us all in our sleep.”

  I clutch my twisting stomach. I was too nauseous to eat any breakfast this morning. Lowering my window, I lean my head out and take a gulp of fresh air. It helps calm the queasiness a bit. “Can we just talk about something else now, please?”

  But as usual, my sister doesn’t listen to a word I say. “Strange how there wasn’t even a scratch on the other cars, huh?” she continues. “I just wonder why yours was singled out? Maybe the guy only gets violent around the colour red.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I murmur, closing my eyes. I can’t bring myself to tell Toby the truth: that my pretty face has made me the target of a centuries-old Greek curse. The whole thing is still kind of unbelievable to me, so I can only imagine how it would sound to her. And then she’ll probably go tell Charley about it and together they’ll spend the rest of the summer making my life even more heinous than it already is. Over the years, those two have become skilled masters of the whole little sister put-down routine. The last thing I need right now is to give them any more ammunition to use against me.