The Fairytale Curse (Magic's Return Book 1) Page 3

  “Yeah, right. As if his parents would let him have a keg when the party’s going to be full of under-eighteens.”

  She grinned. “That’s the best part. His parents are in Europe. Anyway, who says he’s a jerk?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Didn’t you see him this morning, capering round that statue like a caveman who’s just discovered fire?”

  There was a large, vaguely humanoid but very ugly statue in front of the admin block. It had been donated by a past Year 12 as a farewell present to the school. Obviously they’d all hated their time at school and the statue was their idea of revenge. This morning we arrived to discover the current Year 12 had wrapped the thing in toilet paper and sprayed it with whipped cream as part of their muck-up week celebrations. It looked like a giant misshapen mummy and smelled as rank as you’d expect from the combination of dairy and hot sun.

  Josh and a group of his mates had been posing in front of it taking selfies and carrying on like three-year-olds. They couldn’t have been prouder of themselves if they’d invented a cure for cancer—instead of which they’d left a giant mess for a bunch of unfortunate Year 7s to clean up.

  As we’d streamed in from the bus, the group had caught sight of CJ, in her extra short uniform. I swear she took the hems up when Mum wasn’t looking. They started whistling and shouting at her.

  “Where’ve you been all my life, babe?” Josh called.

  So original.

  CJ had ignored him, but I could tell from the way she tossed her hair over her shoulder that she liked the attention.

  “Don’t break my heart, gorgeous!” He clutched at his chest with great melodrama, while his friends whooped. “Come to my party on Saturday and I’ll show you a good time!”

  Yep. Those pick-up lines definitely needed work. I guess a good-looking guy like him didn’t usually need to try too hard. He was your classic blonde-haired, blue-eyed surfer dude. There wouldn’t be too many girls knocking him back.

  “Well,” CJ said now, “at least the caveman has good taste in women.”

  “You mean because he likes you? What does that prove? Everyone that’s got a pulse likes you. Hell, I bet there are even dead people who like you.”

  She snorted. “Gee, thanks. Just call me queen of the zombies. You make it sound like a crime to look good.”

  “Please. Not the ‘it’s not my fault I’m gorgeous’ speech again.”

  Tall. Gorgeous. Popular. Everything I wasn’t. Smart too. Not that I wasn’t smart. It was just that somehow she often seemed to get just one little mark more than me in assignments, though I worked just as hard. Scientific studies had proven that beautiful people were better liked than us plain Janes. I couldn’t help feeling that science was on to something there.

  She stuck out her already full bottom lip. “Well, it’s not. I just happened to win the genetic lottery. Nothing to do with me.”

  “Fine. Whatever.”

  There was no point trying to persuade her that her charmed life really was extraordinary. She’d gotten the star treatment from everyone since the day we were born. To her, being the special one was just the normal state of existence.

  “You know, you’re not exactly ugly, Vi. Lots of girls would kill for hair your colour. If you tried to talk about things that normal people are interested in once in a while, you’d have lots of friends.”

  “I don’t need to be worshipped by the Ashleigh Redmonds of the world.” Who wanted a bunch of airheads following them around? “I have plenty of friends.”

  “Oh, yeah? Like who?”

  “Sona,” I said. “And there are heaps of nice guys in the robotics club.”

  One in particular. She didn’t need to know about Zac yet, though. Maybe I’d imagined that look in his eyes when he’d smiled at me. Too soon to be sharing secrets with my twin.

  “Right. Well, you have fun with the nerds in the robotics club.”

  Whatever else she’d been about to say was cut off by the phone ringing. While she flounced off to answer it, I put the plates in the dishwasher then settled myself on the lounge to watch TV. Friday night was a night for unwinding, not studying.

  CJ came back in and dropped into an armchair. “What are you watching?”

  “Nothing. Just some quiz show.”

  “That was Mum on the phone. She said they won’t be back until Sunday night.”

  Maybe I could spend the whole weekend not studying too. “Did you ask her about the party?”

  She threw me a pitying look. “Are you serious? Why would I ask her? They’re away, doofus. We can do what we like.”

  I turned back to the TV. I was sick of arguing with CJ, but that didn’t feel right. It was one thing to slack off and not study when your parents were away. Sneaking off to a party you knew they wouldn’t approve of was a whole ’nother ball game, and guess who’d get the blame when they found out. Not perfect little CJ.

  A newsbreak came on and CJ picked up a magazine with a bored sigh. They replayed the footage of the girl in the glass coffin.

  “They’re still calling it the Sleeping Beauty case,” I said. “Dad would be so cranky.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Sleeping Beauty fell asleep for a hundred years in her own bed in a castle, surrounded by all her sleeping family and servants. Remember? And the hedge of thorns grew up to hide the castle? It was Snow White who fell into a death-like sleep after she ate the poisoned apple. The seven dwarves thought she was dead but they couldn’t bear to bury her, so they left her in a glass coffin in the woods, then the prince came by and kissed her awake.”

  “And Dad knew the difference? I thought the only things that interested him were his gadgets.”

  “Apparently not.”

  The girl was still in her weird coma, and no one knew how or why she’d ended up in that coffin. Basically nothing new had happened, so they were just showing a couple of official-looking black cars arriving at the Three Sisters carpark and talking about the ongoing investigation.

  A face appeared at a car window. Only a brief flash.

  “Was that—?”

  “What?” CJ looked up but they’d cut to another story.

  “Nothing. Never mind.”

  It couldn’t have been Dad.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Ashleigh’s dad dropped five of us at the party. A lot of the Year 12s could drive, but most of us in Year 11 were still on our Ls, so we had to suffer the shame of being dropped off by mummy or daddy like five-year-olds, while the cool kids turned up with their own wheels.

  I’d been kind of hoping we wouldn’t be able to get there, but of course CJ organised a lift. We were barely speaking. She’d insisted I needed to get out of my shell and meet some new people, but the thing had disaster waiting to happen written all over it. I was only there to keep an eye on her, because guess who would have to explain it all to Mum and Dad later if she did something stupid? My sister had many fine qualities, but common sense wasn’t one of them.

  We could hear the music before the car even turned into the street, the bass beat throbbing over the dark neighbourhood. The house was lit up like a Christmas tree, and it was huge.

  “Nice little place,” CJ said as we walked up the drive. Even the driveway was over the top, swirling round a central fountain in a giant circle, as if any minute they were expecting a fleet of stretch limos to turn up and disgorge a pack of movie stars.

  We followed the excited PARTY THIS WAY!! signs around the side of the house and through a tall gate into the backyard, where a scene from a Hollywood movie met our eyes. A tennis court strung with fairy lights doubled as a massive dance floor, and a live DJ was set up there, pumping out something that had about half of Year 12 dancing. Across an immaculate lawn was an enormous pool, complete with palm trees and a waterfall. At the moment it had a net strung across its middle, and a boisterous game of volleyball was going on. The other half of Year 12 was watching, alternating jeers with encouragement.

  The deck at the back of the house
was covered in sun lounges. Taking pride of place in the centre was a large jacuzzi full of girls holding champagne glasses. My heart sank a little, and then I noticed the garbage bins full of ice lined up along the edge of the deck and it hit rock bottom. I could tell from here that there wasn’t much soft drink in those suckers.

  “This is a bad idea,” I said, but I might as well have saved my breath.

  “This is great,” CJ breathed, her eyes shining as she took it all in.

  “Hey, girls!” a voice called from the pool.

  Josh heaved himself out of the pool and strode across the lawn dripping. Behind him his friends groaned and called out, “aw, come on man, we were winning!”, but he ignored them.

  Damn, but he was hot. Drops of water gleamed on pecs so hard you could have bounced a ping-pong ball off them. He wore boardies slung low on his hips, and the six-pack had to be seen to be believed. He could have made his fortune as an underwear model.

  The collective IQ of our little group plummeted as he approached. They all looked at him with one thing on their minds—and didn’t he know it, strutting like he was already on the catwalk.

  “Stop drooling,” I hissed at CJ. “It’s undignified.”

  “Shut. Up.”

  “Glad you could make it,” he said to CJ. His gaze slid past me, standing next to her, and dismissed me as unimportant. He turned a megawatt smile on my twin.

  “Nice party,” she said, keeping her cool. True, he was gorgeous, but CJ had had her pick of gorgeous plenty of times before. Indeed, she assumed it was her right. He might find it harder than he thought to win her over.

  “Thanks. Help yourselves to drinks, ladies. Whatever your little hearts desire.” He waved an expansive hand towards the ranks of alcohol-laden bins. He stepped closer to CJ and dropped his voice. “Join me in the spa later?”

  “I didn’t bring my bikini.”

  His smile broadened. “Even better.”

  That set the other girls twittering like starlings. With a little wave he strode back to the pool and dove into the middle of the volleyball game.

  I glared at his smarmy blonde head bobbing in the water. “Let’s dance.”

  “In a minute,” CJ said. “I want to get something to drink first.”

  “Soft drink.”

  “Oh, lighten up, Vi. Live a little.”

  She swept the whole flock of them off with her. I watched them helping themselves from one of the bins and turned away, almost getting knocked down in the process by a big guy who was weaving unsteadily across the grass.

  “You all right?” I asked.

  He stared at me, still swaying. He seemed to be having trouble focusing on my face. “Don’t feel so good.”

  And then he doubled over and heaved his guts all over my sandals.

  “Oh, great!” I jumped away, but it was too late. I could feel it, hot and disgusting, oozing between my toes. I kicked off my sandals and wiped my feet frantically on the grass, ignoring the guy, who was now on his knees. The smell was horrendous. My own stomach heaved in protest. There was nothing quite like the stink of fresh vomit.

  I hurried over to the pool, leaving my sandals where they dropped. I was not touching them again. I’d rather buy new ones. Standing on the top step with water up to my ankles I watched a little chunk of carrot float away. Guess I wouldn’t be going swimming either.

  Barefoot, I padded across the grass toward the tennis court dance floor. This was going to be a long night. No Sona to keep me company. Her parents didn’t let her go to parties unless they knew the family well. She hadn’t even bothered asking.

  I scanned the crowd jumping and heaving to the music. As usual, it was mainly girls dancing while the guys stood around the edges looking self-conscious, though this time with added booze, which helped with the self-consciousness, I guess. Looked like it had worked its magic already on a few guys who were in the thick of it, bobbing around with beers in hand. One girl sagged against the wire fencing of the tennis court, looking like a rag doll that had been dropped there. Her friend had a sympathetic hand on her back. Another chunder in the making, by the looks of it. Geez, it was only nine o’clock. How drunk could you get in an hour? More than a few of these people were obviously working hard at it.

  I caught sight of a familiar figure lounging against the fence on the other side of the dancers. Zac smiled as I made my way across to him. He had a can in his hand, but it proved to be only Coke.

  “You not drinking?” I asked. “Everyone else seems determined to get smashed.”

  “Nah. I’m driving. Got my Ps last month. Dad would kill me if I damaged the car.”

  I stared meaningfully at him.

  “Apart from the fact it’s illegal to drink on your Ps, of course,” he added hastily.

  “Of course. Glad to see someone’s being responsible.”

  “Can I get you something to drink? Something soft and responsible, I mean?” The dimple peeked out. He was so cute when he smiled. Shame he was so tall, though—without shoes I felt like a midget standing next to him. I’d need to stand on a box to kiss him.

  “No, thanks.” Stop thinking about kissing him! You hardly know the guy. “I’m going to dance for a while. Want to join me?”

  He glanced down at my bare feet. “I think your feet will be safer if I just stay here and hold up the fence a bit longer. Dancing’s not really my thing.”

  Probably safer for my libido too. “Suit yourself.”

  I pushed my way through the press of hot bodies until I found CJ and her group. They were all swigging from bottles of cooler as they danced.

  “Having fun?” CJ asked. She had to shout to be heard over the thumping music.

  “Yeah, it’s great. Some arsehole threw up on me.”

  Her pretty nose wrinkled. “Hope he has the world’s biggest hangover tomorrow.”

  I grinned. He probably would. Him and half the people here.

  The DJ was good. He kept the rhythm going, one good dance track after another. I shook my head when he put on YMCA, but what the hell. Sometimes it’s fun to be daggy. I yelled the chorus and did the stupid arm movements along with everyone else. I even caught a glimpse of Zac throwing his arms around on the edge of the crowd, which made me laugh. He was right; he couldn’t dance, but even guys who can’t dance can manage to make like an air traffic controller. That song was just irresistible.

  I danced my way through the crowd to his side.

  “Having fun?” I shouted.

  “Sure!” The other guys from the robotics club were staring at him as if he’d grown an extra head, but he didn’t seem to care. Now that he’d decided to dance, he threw himself into it, and we were both laughing by the time the song finished.

  Something slow came on to replace it, and all around us couples formed out of the crowd. Zac opened his arms and I moved into them, mouth suddenly dry. The world narrowed to the smell of his skin and the feel of his body warm against mine. My head came up to his shoulder. Maybe I wouldn’t need a box after all. I hid my hot face against his chest so he wouldn’t see me blushing, and listened to the steady beat of his heart. His arms tightened around me.

  Someone behind me dropped their can, and beer splashed everyone’s legs. We sprang apart.

  “You okay?”

  I missed the feel of him already, but the song was ending and the moment had gone.

  “Yeah. I’ll just go and … ah … find something to wipe this off with.”

  I left him there and headed for the deck, past a girl on a sun lounge who seemed to have passed out. The party was getting louder and more frantic. Drunken shouts and laughter rose over the pounding music. I checked my watch. Eleven thirty. How much longer till the neighbours started calling the police?

  CJ and Ashleigh staggered up the stairs to the deck, both unsteady on their feet.

  “We’re going to find the ladies’,” CJ said. “Wanna come?”

  “No thanks.”

  They wobbled their way into the house, arms ar
ound each other, probably for support, given the way they were walking. Note to self: if getting drunk is on the agenda, don’t wear heels. I grabbed somebody’s towel and dried the backs of my legs, then took a soft drink. All that dancing had given me a thirst. I looked around for Zac, and found him chatting to a couple of the other guys from the robotics club. He glanced up toward the deck but didn’t see me. Maybe when CJ got back I’d ask him to give us a ride home. I didn’t like the way she was swaying.

  Time passed as I sipped my drink and watched the party swirl around me. Should I go back to Zac? It was just a dance. It probably hadn’t meant anything, and I didn’t want to look like I was chasing him. Because I wasn’t, however hard my heart pounded when he smiled. Definitely not.

  Josh was in the spa now with a group of Year 12 girls who were squealing like five-year-olds in a jumping castle. No one was swimming in the pool any more, though a couple of guys were floating around on lilos drinking beer while their friends shot them with water cannons from the edge. The robotics club seemed to have called a meeting in the shadows behind the palm trees—half a dozen of them had their heads together over there, including Zac, all talking intently. Probably about something involving circuitry.

  I finished my drink and began to get restless. It was ages since CJ and Ashleigh had disappeared inside. Surely it couldn’t take that long to go to the toilet. Time to send out the search party.

  I stepped into an open-plan kitchen/living area that was nearly as big as our whole house. Acres of white tiles stretched away in front of me. Not as clean now as they probably usually were, though. There were a few spills and I felt sticky patches beneath my bare feet. Empty cans lay everywhere. One guy dropped a cigarette butt on the floor as I watched and left it there, grinding it out with a lazy foot. Pig. Another time I might have had a go at him, but right then I was focused on finding my sister.

  There were plenty of people in the house too, and the noise level was almost as high as outside. Someone had turned on the stereo, and now Katy Perry at full volume competed with whatever the DJ was playing on the tennis court. The lights were dimmed or not on at all in many of the rooms. I pushed through the crowds, stepping over trash and people and a few trashed people, searching for CJ’s dark head in the gloom.