“Hey Brandon. It’s Marcie.”

  There was a long pause. “Did you call so you could hang up on me again?”

  “It is hard to hang up on someone if you’re not on the phone with them,” I joked. Not one of my better ones. “I actually called for something serious.”

  I told him about Vernon and how Carla had confessed to altering the crime scene. “She has the missing invoice in her planner. Or had it. She probably got rid of it by now. But I think it’s Vernon’s handwriting forging Earl’s signature, showing he was the one who embezzled from Survivalist Supplies. It had the same ‘H’ as a photo I also suspect is his handwriting.”

  “So, wait a second. The casserole lady confessed to all that?” Brandon said.

  “Well, kind of. It was mostly me talking. But she certainly did not deny messing with the crime scene.”

  “Okay. We need to go to the police right now and tell them everything,” he said. “I’ll meet you at the police station, introduce you around.”

  My heart skipped a tiny little beat. Introduce me around.

  I stopped myself from reading too much into that and the handshake and the tiger-claw photo. I glanced at my cell phone clock. It was almost 3:00. “I don’t have time right this second,” I said. “I’ve got to pick up my kids from my ex’s. And if I’m late again this week, I’ll never hear the end of it. Tomorrow. Let’s meet at my aunt’s tomorrow, and we’ll go at lunch time.”

  The pause said more than anything he could’ve said out loud. “I don’t think you understand what’s at stake here. We need to act fast with this. We need to go to the police and see if there’s enough evidence to arrest Vernon Phelps. Carla is probably going to call and tell him about your confrontation. And he’s not going to be happy. I don’t want anything to happen to you. Did you get a photo of the invoice?”

  I tried not to allow myself to enjoy that comment too much, the part where he said he didn’t want anything to happen to me.

  I shook myself to reality. “I don’t have either. I wasn’t recording the confession. And I don’t have the invoice.”

  There was another long, awkward pause. “Okay, plan B. I’ll talk to someone. See if we can bring Carla in for questioning right away and cut her a deal for any information she can give us on Vernon. Make it sound like we’re going to put her away for tampering with the crime scene.”

  “And slashing my tires,” I added.

  He didn’t hear me. “She sounds like she’s at a breaking point, and if we can get her to break before she talks to Vernon, then maybe we’ll have enough to arrest him.”

  “Thanks,” I said, hoping that was a possibility. I had gone to the shooting range with Vernon Phelps so I knew what his breaking point might be.

  I smiled to myself, thinking about my own breaking point. I wasn’t the sitting duck Brandon probably thought I was.

  The thick witch’s book sat on the coffee table next to the orchid, reminding me of my natural powers and how I’d used them successfully that day at the shooting range. Maybe I could use my powers somehow on this, too, at least to protect myself if things got ugly.

  But then, who knew? I probably should have read that first chapter.

  The only thing I could think about as I headed over to pick up my kids was the fact I was about to relive the humiliation of my dinner cruise.

  By now, everyone had heard all about how pathetic I’d been, lying about having a date and going on a romantic cruise by myself.

  Violet would know her mother had made up Brandon, not the man, but the fact she was dating him.

  Mark and Jessica would get to laugh about it all over again.

  At least I wouldn’t have to lie anymore.

  I walked up to the front porch wearing my cutest flowery blouse and cigarette pants. If I was going down, I was going down in style.

  I barely had to knock. Lynn answered right away, humungous smirk plastered on her pale face. She had obviously been lying in wait.

  “Come on in,” she said, motioning to her stylish white living room.

  “I heard all about your hot date with Brandon,” she laughed.

  “Oh good,” I said, like there wasn’t anything laughable about it. “Are the girls ready to go?”

  “The girls aren’t here yet. They’re still out shopping with Mark. Have a seat,” she said, sitting down on her oversized sofa. She adjusted her colorful infinity scarf and leaned into her couch cushions. I sat at the edge of the chair on the other side of the coffee table, ready to bounce up and leave as soon as the kids got here. I took out my phone.

  I tried not to look at my ex-mother-in-law. I tried not to notice what her face was saying – that I was, once again, the loser in life. She was the winner. I was the fat drunken pirate. Nothing would ever change about that.

  She pushed her hair behind her ears and chuckled. “Mark and Jessica told me all about the cruise Friday night. I shouldn’t laugh. It would be funny if it weren’t so scary. I never knew you were a stalker. I saw a show on Crime TV about stalkers once. I guess it’s a serious thing now. So… were you stalking Brandon, Jessica, or Mark?”

  I bit my lip. “I’m sorry you think you have the right to pry into my business, but you don’t.”

  “If you’re stalking my son and his girlfriend, I think I do.”

  Just then the door opened and the kids ran through the living room followed by Mark and Jessica.

  “Look what we got,” Violet said, kicking out her foot in a karate move. Her bright pink and black tennis shoe flashed with light. “Light-up shoes!”

  “Wow. Cool,” I said, getting up from the chair, thankful I no longer had to listen to the stalking lecture. “New shoes…”

  “Why don’t we ever go shopping?” Violet asked.

  “Because Mom’s poor,” Celia added, holding a Starbucks while digging a finger into her bag of Wetzel’s Pretzels.

  Mark ruffled Violet’s hair. “Now you guys. Your mom does what she can.”

  My body heat jumped about twenty degrees. My skin and eyes felt like they were melting off my face, like the weird guy at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark.

  I told the kids to go wait in the car while I gathered up the rest of their stuff.

  Lynn smiled at Mark from the couch. “I’m glad you and Jessica finally got here. Marcie and I were just talking about the Romance and Dance dinner cruise and that stalker show I saw last week. Remember how we were all going to confront her about that?”

  I ignored her and turned to Mark. “Starting next month, you’re paying child support.”

  Taking a deep breath, I let my shoulders relax. That was easier than I thought it’d be. And I hadn’t even used my powers.

  His jaw fell open. “You’re kidding, right? I already pay half the mortgage…”

  “Because when the house sells, you’ll want half the money,” I snapped. “If you can afford Starbucks and light-up shoes, then you can afford child support. If you can afford a better car, triple-A, and dinner cruises, but you can’t afford to help pay for the day-to-day expenses of raising your kids, then you’re a worse dad than you were a husband. I drive a crappy car from 1998 so I can keep the lights on. I don’t have Triple-A so we can eat. You will be paying the agreed-upon amount or I will see you in court. And if I have to go to court, I’ll be asking for all the back child support too. I know an evil lawyer who would love to make that happen. Half the mortgage when you’ll be getting all that money back is not enough.”

  Mark’s face dropped only slightly lower than Lynn’s and Jessica’s.

  “I’m sorry,” I said sarcastically as I grabbed the knob to leave. “Did I surprise you all with my self-esteem? Get used to it. I’d better see that check by the first of November or I’ll be stalking you… in court.”

  I was pretty sure that last part made no sense at all, but I slammed the door like it had, then remembered I hadn’t gotten the kids’ stuff yet. Rats. So much for dramatic exits.

  I went back in and quickly grabbed their backpacks. An electric tingle went up my spine and down my fingertips as my eyes rested on the blown-up canvas photo of me as a drunken pirate.

  Maybe I could harness this boost of energy after all.

  I pictured the photo destroyed, destroyed, destroyed, sitting by the trash in a pile of bits and pieces.

  I motioned my hand toward it, not even sure if that would do anything. I felt the energy move down my body, over my arms, and off my fingertips. Flames instantly shot across the entire bottom half of the canvas, climbing up the photo and onto the walls. Lynn screamed as the fire alarm went off and Mark rushed over to the kitchen to get the extinguisher.

  I gasped. Definitely not my intention. I quickly inched my way to the door, watching Jessica snatch the throw blanket from off the couch and pat the flames with it.

  “Not my blanket, you fool. That’s one-of-a-kind from Africa,” Lynn snapped.

  I smiled to myself, knowing a new drunken pirate had just been crowned. They needed a more recent photo, anyway. I was just helping to speed things along.

  Mark sprayed the wall with the extinguisher, muttering “What the hell” over and over as black smoke billowed through the room.

  “Thanks again for the tow,” I yelled over the chaos as I stepped outside, my fingers still tingling with the after-energy of my natural powers. “But it looks like from now on, I’ll be able to afford my own roadside assistance.”

  I cackled as I closed the door, allowing the laughter to take over my lungs and create a screeching effect, long and loud, like every muscle in my body was enjoying this moment. It felt good to be evil, maybe a little too good.

  Chapter 26

  Beginning Chapters

  My eyes wanted to close. My room was dark. Not just dim, but dark. The sun wasn’t even up yet, and I should have been asleep like every other creature on the planet at 4:30 in the morning. But this was the only free time I had, and my encounter with Mark yesterday actually made me want to do this.

  I flicked on my lamp and pulled the huge deep red book onto my lap, running my finger over the title: Powers And How To Handle Them.

  I leaned against my bed’s backboard and flipped the book to the section on evil witches, skipping the foreword about how to know if you actually were one or not.

  I knew I was in the right spot, and I was proud of it.

  Chapter One:

  A Power Like No Other

  Evil witches are naturally preconditioned to think evil thoughts. They often hold the misconception that the world is out to get them. And they find themselves wanting to inflict pain onto others, mostly because they feel the world is inflicting pain onto them.

  The reality is, life is what you think it will be.

  “This was not written by an evil witch,” I thought, scrunching my head down into my pillow. “Because we all know the world really is out to get some of us.”

  Evil witches can be a gift to all of mankind because their evil tendencies (when managed) allow them to be able to see beneath the surface of people and events to know the true nature of what is lurking underneath. When in good standing, evil witches can be the eyes and ears of a society. They can be invaluable.

  I still wasn’t sure about this book, mostly because it was beginning to sound an awful lot like evil witches were being used as weapons by the society, but then, maybe I was reading way too much into a book I’d barely read.

  Still, getting control over my powers did seem like a good idea, so I skipped ahead to the tips and tricks for gaining control. There were breathing techniques that would help when my bursts of energy came on, kind of like an evil-power Lamaze technique of some sort.

  I chuckled a little, picturing myself breaking into rhythmic heaving when my next hot flash came on. I could not imagine that making it better.

  To gain control of your powers, picture the outcome you would like to achieve while simultaneously picturing positivity flowing through you to achieve it.

  I stared at the book and pictured it closing, closing, closing. Then, like at Lynn’s with the fire, I motioned my hand toward it. Nothing. I took a few quick Lamaze breaths and tried again, thinking positive thoughts, staring hard at the corner of the book this time. “Move. Move. Move… Damn it.” The page didn’t even flutter a little.

  Yawning, I looked over at Laverne who was curled up by the foot of my bed asleep, what I should’ve been doing. My eyes were heavy from reading about boring techniques that didn’t work and I eventually let my lids close, not waking until Violet came into my room.

  “Celia said I put too much Nutella on my toast, but she was eating Nutella straight from the jar. And that’s way more Nutella.”

  I shot up, checking the clock on my cell phone, drool falling from my lip. Crap. It was almost time to leave. Things were never going to change in my life. Same old. Same old.

  You are wrong, book. Life is out to get me. I get no help or support from life or my ex or my family…

  “Wait a second,” I said, blinking myself awake. “Did you say you made your own breakfast?”

  Violet nodded, a plop of Nutella fell from her bangs. “And we’re all dressed and Lilly helped me pack a lunch and brush my hair.”

  I almost cried. I jumped from my bed and threw open my closet. It was full of beautiful outfits that fit me, perfect for work. That didn’t even need duct tape.

  I grabbed a pair of pants, a blouse, and a cardigan and hurried to get dressed.

  Hopping around putting on one of my cute flats, I went into the kitchen and looked around. Sure, there were smears of Nutella all over the counter. (The walls too, not sure how that happened.) But I could clean that up later. The dishes weren’t going anywhere either.

  Maybe, life was still handing me lemons, but I’d been so busy complaining, I hadn’t noticed how sweet they were, like stolen lemons.

  I kissed all my girls good morning.

  “It’s okay you lied about Brandon,” Violet whispered in my ear when I hugged her. “I play pretend sometimes too.” I hugged her harder, not even caring that I probably had Nutella in my hair somewhere now too.

  Even though I was running late, I felt calm for once. We could do this. We would do this. Without lies. Without playing pretend. Just me and my team.

  By the time I got to Kensington, I already knew this was going to be a great day. I could feel it. I woke up late yet somehow there was zero traffic so I actually made it to my aunt’s neighborhood early. I found an easy parking spot and the birds were actually singing overhead. Okay, so it was more like an annoying squawk, but the book was still right: Life is what you think it will be.

  I passed Tracey’s pale yellow house with a skip in my step. I was going to the police station with Brandon today, and that was going to be awesome, or at least I pictured it being awesome. All of his friends were going to love me, even though I was apparently someone who said the word “awesome” now just like my annoying ex. Awesome.

  I was sure they’d already pulled Carla in for questioning and she was going to sing like the squawky bird overhead. They’d soon be arresting Vernon. My aunt would be cleared as a suspect. Patsy could collect her life insurance and buy some teeth. Everything was good. A whole new chapter in everyone’s life.

  I knew what the book meant now. Maybe I was evil, but fixing the evil things around me could possibly be what I was meant to do with those evil tendencies.

  A breeze blew by me and I pulled my cardigan in tighter. The days were getting colder now that it was the end of October, but only by San Diego standards, which meant you had to wear a light jacket in the mornings and evenings.

  The street seemed unusually quiet now too. The bird had long stopped squawking overhead. And I found myself listening to the sound of my own shoes, patting along the sidewalk.

  I looked over at Earl’s house, dark green so it’d blend into the background like camouflage. “You’re welcome,” I said as I approached. It actually felt good to have helped the old, awful man out.

  I heard a meow and I looked over as something small and dark jumped out from the bottom of a hedge, almost causing me to stumble into the street.

  Was it Doomsday?

  As if on cue, I heard a soft meow.

  Maybe I could help the jerk out even more.

  It scurried back behind a bush by Earl’s porch before I could tell what color it was, and I stopped and watched from the sidewalk for a minute. I knew Doomsday was a fluffy, gray tabby.

  Just under the lower branches of the bush, a little paw peeked out so it could grab at a limb, curling up and swatting at the bottom of the bush. Gray fluffy fur. A beautiful little tabby. Doomsday! I’d found him. Maybe.

  I approached slowly. This cat might be skittish. “Hey little guy,” I said. “I know you’re scared.”

  The long-haired fluff-ball took a couple steps out from the bush but stopped short, like he was caught on a leash or something. He turned and went back under.

  A leash?

  “Come here, little fella,” I said, slowly walking back behind the porch where the bush was. I crouched down, lowering and turning my head so I could see what the poor thing was caught on and free him.

  The cat snuggled up to my touch, purring and nuzzling. What a sweetie. This couldn’t have been Doomsday. I expected Earl’s cat to be as mean as he was.

  Plus, this cat’s soft gray fur wasn’t dirty or matted. He seemed pretty well taken care of, not at all like a homeless cat with a deceased owner. “Aren’t you cute? Let me help you out. And what’s that on your collar? A blue paper? ‘Curiosity killed the…’”

  I felt the wallop on the back of my head just a moment before it hit me.

  Chapter 27

  Waking Up

  I woke to the smell of musty earth and a stale cigar. My head stung and my stomach felt a little like I was on that cruise again, the same wrenching, swaying motion of seasickness or a hangover, or being walloped on the head by a killer.

 

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