“I mean, it won’t be long before she develops a little Reaver fever.”
Kali stops so quickly I overtake her and have to retread my steps.
Frowning, she puts a hand on her hip. “I asked you not to fix her with Drew.”
“After that stunt she pulled in Cardio, she had it coming.”
A cloud of blue hydrangea has begun to form in the air around Kali. I stiffen at her disappointment, and the blood rushes to my cheeks.
“She might have had it coming, but you just can’t . . . do that.”
“I was trying to help, I—”
She angles her body so she’s facing me square on. Her deep, all-seeing poet’s eyes study me. “There are lines we can’t cross, Mim, especially you.” She points to me, then taps her finger against her chin.
“Why me?”
“Because, Nosey, you can do things the rest of us can’t. Clark Kent was always getting stepped on, or chewed out, but did he ever use his superpowers against that kind of shit? No.”
She’s comparing me toSuperman? “He was trying to keep his identity secret. And anyway, if Clark Kent’s friends were being stepped on, he’d whip out the cape.”
All six feet of her seems to bristle. “Do I look like someone who can be stepped on?”
“No, but—”
“Just leave it alone. I can take care of myself.” Her flip-flops slap the pavement away from me, and the smell of burnt tires singes my nostrils, strong as a freeway underpass.
She’s mad at me? I was just trying to protect her. What good is a superpower if you can’t help your friends when they need it? I’m suddenly aware of all the faces casting me curious glances.
Closing my mouth, I steer myself back to the library. After I fetch my bike, I walk it toward the windsock, my heart full of injury, and my ears ringing. A tangle of clover weed pokes through a crack in the pavement, and I lengthen my stride just so I can crush it under my ankle boot. It doesn’t make me feel any better. In fact, I feel like, well, a heel. So I fed Vicky a little giddy juice. It’s not like I carjacked Ghandi. I dig a nail into my palm to stop thinking about her.
I exit the school grounds and roll toward where Court is already parked at the curb. He gets out of the Jeep, wearing aviator sunglasses, Levi’s faded at the knees, and a navy T-shirt that hugs his lean frame without being tight. He jams my bike into the back.
Moments later, we’re pulling into traffic. The Jeep has been vacuumed of sand, and smells of car shampoo and window cleaner. I can still smell the perfumes of girls past—those can stick around for years—but now there’s a manufactured pine scent overlaying everything.
“I hope it smells better today,” he says with a sideways glance at me.
Blushing bromeliad rises from my collar. I will have to learnnot to be so transparent. “It smells fine. You didn’t have t-to—” I stammer, “but thanks. Er, do you know the way to Playa del Rey?”
His wet hair falls in waves and he smells like Ivory soap. “Yeah. It’s just north of where we surf.”
We take the road west, toward the Pacific. The sun burns a hole in the patchwork of gray and white clouds covering it. Highway traffic is sparse, and we ride the fast lane at just above the speed limit, causing the red and white oleanders along the shoulder to blur into pink. The burnt rubber scent of the highway breezes through the vents, and I begin thinking about Kali again. She didn’t even let me finish my sentence. She just stormed off.
I shoulder those thoughts away. “How did the Kill Drill go?”
“Not great. Coach decided to change strategy so we have a meeting tonight. How’s the potion making?”
“Fine.” I feel shy because of how we left each other last night. Unresolved. Like a crossword puzzle that gets too complicated to finish. “Any updates on your mom?”
“My aunt took her shopping today. They hit up the yard sales, collecting stuff to put in Christmas wreaths for the foster homes.” He tenses his grip on the steering wheel and shakes his head. “Last night, Mom took out all her cookbooks and spread them out around her. Said she was looking for Savannah Sweetpie.”
I wince. Mr. Frederics is from Georgia. A jolt of panic hits me again as the what-ifs crowd my mind. What if I can’t find thatmiso plant? What if I don’t fix Alice before the first kiss?
Either Mother will have to make the PUF, and what a party that will be, or Alice’s heart gets broken for a second time. The hum of the air conditioner and the outside traffic compete with the noise in my head.
“It’s weird to think about Mom being in love with Mr. Frederics.” Court interrupts my internal boxing match. “I mean, Mr. Frederics? Last week, he was just another of Mel’s teachers.”
“Mother says you never really see a person until you smell them.”
