Page 41

Penny

AS PENNY WALKS DOWN THE STAIRS, SHE SPOTS ALONSO IMMEDIATELY.

He’s standing with Kiki, their voices low as they speak. Alonso looks tense. Angry. He slaps one hand into his other palm, as if he’s trying to make a point.

“Hey,” Penny says.

Alonso spins around. When he sees her, he relaxes, and against Penny’s better judgment, she does, too. She feels better now that he’s here.

Then she remembers Dylan, and that relief disappears.

Alonso’s eyes fall to Penny’s wrist. His expression darkens, and then he looks up toward the second floor. “Who did that? Is someone up there?”

“No,” Penny says, but Alonso tries to step around her. She grabs both of his arms, holding him in place.

“I texted him,” Kiki says. “Thought you might need some help after you showed up with Dylan.”

“Thanks,” Penny says, but it comes out half-hearted.

Alonso’s face changes when he hears the anger in her voice. He closes off, and suddenly she’s looking into the eyes of the Alonso from Corey’s Fourth of July party: cocky and mean and entirely too sure of himself.

“I was on my way here to play bike polo,” Alonso says. “It’s not like I showed up because Kiki texted.”

That stings. “That’s fine. I need to talk to you.”

Kiki smirks. “I’ll be out front.”

As she walks away, Penny’s face heats up. She can only imagine what Kiki thinks this is about.

Alonso’s unblinking gaze is locked on Penny. He’s wearing one of his silk robes over a Misfits T-shirt, and the blue of his hair is so faded it’s almost blond again. There’s a bottle of Fizzy Barrel Root Beer in his robe pocket.

“Have you seen Dylan?” Penny asks.

“No, why?” And then it clicks. “Did you give her the truth serum? How did it go?”

“Not good.”

Alonso’s smile falters. “It didn’t work?”

“It did. But she started answering questions I never asked her.”

“Like…?”

“Dylan told me things she never would’ve wanted me to know. Things that I didn’t want to know. And then she threw up, and now I’m not sure if she’s okay.”

“Huh.” Alonso presses his fist to his lips as he thinks. The gesture is distracting, and Penny averts her eyes to his earring instead. “Must’ve been the caraway seeds I added. But that would’ve kept her from throwing up, so maybe it was something else.”

Alonso is like a little kid doing a science experiment with dangerous chemicals. Penny grapples for the right words. “Alonso, she was saying things against her will! She couldn’t stop!”

Alonso lets out a low laugh. “Are you seriously mad at me right now?”

“I—” Penny chokes on her words. How does she respond to that? “Dylan had no idea what was going on. We hurt her. The whole reason I’m at this party is because I was afraid to leave her alone.”

Alonso’s face contorts with anger—and Penny realizes she was yelling.

“So what?” Alonso says. “Did we get what we needed?”

The words are icy. This wasn’t how he was supposed to react. Penny expected him to be at least a little ashamed, but all he can think about is the end result.

“That’s not the point!” Penny says. “Your magic is strong . You can’t pretend that using it won’t have consequences.”

“There will always be a risk. If you can’t handle that, we shouldn’t be trying to break this curse in the first place!” Alonso smirks, as if Penny is overreacting. “Dylan deserved it anyway. She would’ve done the same thing to you or anyone else.”

“We don’t get to decide what she deserves!”

Alonso steps closer, and the room is suddenly too warm.

“Well, that’s not why we did it, right?” he says. “We wanted to find out if her family cursed the Barrions.”

“Right,” Penny says, sharp and bitter. “And it wasn’t them.”

Alonso falls silent. For a moment they stare at each other, until he finally says, “Are you sure?”

“Nobody in Dylan’s family has used magic in a hundred years. They didn’t want to be ostracized.”

This sinks in like a boulder. Alonso takes a step back, starts saying something, then stops. He runs his hands through his hair. “Well, you should be thanking me, because at least we know.”

Penny can still feel the heat of the fire. She can see Ellie Barrion’s dead eyes. “There’s something else—”

“No,” Alonso snaps. “You don’t get to act like I did something wrong when I was trying to help your mom, okay?”

“That doesn’t mean you can play with people’s lives the way your grandfather did!”

It’s the wrong thing to say, but Penny realizes it too late. Alonso looks like he’s been slapped. Then his eyes become vacant.

“Alonso,” Penny starts, but he’s already walking away from her. “Wait!” she calls, but before she can follow him, one of the storage room doors bursts open, and Dylan stumbles out.

“Dylan?” a voice booms from behind her, and Royce walks out, his hair disheveled and his shirt half off. “What’s wrong?”

“Leave me alone!” Dylan says. Her eyes are unfocused as she takes another swig from her flask. “God, you’re so fucking boring.” She stumbles away.

Penny runs after Dylan, following her through the front room and into the parking lot. Most of the cars have cleared out, and people are riding their bikes, getting ready for another game of bike polo.

“Hey, is this hippie car yours?” Clay Thornberg calls to Penny, pointing at the Prius, which is now in the middle of the bike polo court.

Penny ignores him, her eyes searching for Dylan. A hand wraps around her shoulder and whips her around. Suddenly, Clay is in her face.

“Did you hear me?” Clay says. “Move your fucking car.”

A horn beeps, and Penny’s heart sings as Mrs. Salazar’s old Honda Civic nearly runs Clay down. He jumps out of its path, slamming his hand on the hood. “The fuck are you doing?”

Naomi gives him a very elegant middle finger out the open window. “How about you back away before I let my foot off the brake?”

Clay hesitates, but he finally stalks away, muttering something about no fucking respect .

Penny wants to cry. “Nay.”

“Give me your keys, I’ll move your car in a second. Then you can tell me why we’re…” She looks around distastefully. “Well. Here.”

Penny hands her the keys. “Thank you. I have to find Dylan, and then I’ll be back.”

Penny takes off running before Naomi can ask questions. Alonso is doing laps on his bike, and Penny tries not to look at him, but it doesn’t work. He’s standing in the seat with his polo stick over one shoulder—and he’s glaring right at her.

This time, Penny glares back.

“Oh good,” comes Dylan’s voice. “You’re still here.”

Penny stops so quickly she almost runs into her. Dylan’s lipstick is smeared, and the shoulder of her shirt is hanging off.

“Let me take you home,” Penny says.

“Not yet. I have a present for you.” Dylan turns to the crowd and shouts, “Hey, everyone! Did you know Penny is trying to fuck my boyfriend?”

All the chatter around them dies.

Penny’s mouth is suddenly dry. “I told you, there’s nothing going on!”

“Dylan, you’re drunk!” someone shouts, and the crowd laughs. Like lightning, phones appear in hands, and they’re directed at Penny and Dylan. Royce is back, and he’s recording them—but the phone has an Idlewood Central cheerleading sticker on the back. Because it’s not his phone; it’s Dylan’s.

Penny has walked into a trap.

Dylan takes a step closer, forcing Penny to back up. Naomi appears, putting herself between them. “You need to sit down, Dylan. You’ve got vomit on your shirt.”

Dylan smiles, and a second later, someone collides with Naomi and sweeps her away in a blur. It’s Clay Thornberg. His thick arms are wrapped around Naomi’s middle as he carries her off, Naomi kicking and screaming the whole time.

“What the fuck ?” Naomi screams.

“Shut up,” Clay says into her ear.

“Put her down!” Penny shouts. Her blood is burning white hot in her veins, and she moves to grab Clay’s arms and pry them from Naomi. Before she gets the chance, Dylan grabs Penny by the hair and wrests her backward so that their faces are inches apart. The pain is sharp, and Penny grabs Dylan’s wrist.

“Let go,” Penny says, her voice cracking.

“Everyone thought you were so innocent,” Dylan says, an edge to her voice as she angles Penny’s face toward Royce. “You’re live?”

“Yep,” he says.

Dylan smiles at the camera. “In case any of you were wondering, this is what happens to sluts who try to steal my boyfriend.”

Penny opens her mouth to respond, but she never gets the chance, because Dylan upends her drink over Penny’s face.

She registers the ice first, and then the smell of vodka and cranberry fills her nostrils. She squeezes her eyes shut, but it’s already burning. Dylan loosens her grip, and Penny uses the opportunity to shove her away and press her hands to her eyes.

Time slows down. Some people are laughing. One person says, “That’s too far.” And from somewhere behind Penny, there’s a yelp.

“Back off, man,” Clay squeaks.

“Not until you learn your fucking lesson,” comes Alonso’s voice, threaded with fury. Then there’s a hollow sound, like punching, over and over again.

A hand grabs Penny’s arm, and she tries to pull away until she hears Naomi’s voice. “It’s me, Penz. Come on.”

As Naomi leads Penny away, Dylan yells, “This was her fault!”

“If you don’t want to be next on Alonso’s hit list, turn the phones off,” comes Kiki’s voice, louder than Penny has ever heard it.

Footsteps run up behind Penny and Naomi, and then Alonso’s voice is close. “Penny, look up, I’m going to pour water over your eyes.”

Penny lowers her hands. There’s the crack of a water bottle opening, and Alonso tilts her head up. Lukewarm water runs down her face and onto her shirt, and Alonso presses a cloth to her eyes so she can wipe the alcohol away. They repeat this a few times until the sting subsides. Penny lets the cloth drop, and she realizes it’s not a cloth at all.

“Your robe,” Penny says, dejected. “It’ll be stained.”

“It’s a jacket,” Alonso says. “And I really don’t care.”

They’re next to the Prius. The party is congregating around the door to the old pharmacy; apparently, the bike polo game is off. People are chatting in low voices, glancing at the three of them. Penny’s stomach twists. “We should go.”

“I can drive you,” Naomi says.

Alonso nods. “I have an extra shirt you can wear.”

Penny meets Alonso’s eyes. His brow is furrowed in concern, and he’s gripping Penny’s upper arm. They were just fighting, but that doesn’t even matter anymore. Her eyes fall to Alonso’s knuckles. They’re bright red, and one of them is cut open and bleeding. Alonso notices where she’s looking and drops his hand, angling it so she can’t see.

“I’m going to make sure Dylan is okay,” Alonso says. “Then I’ll bring your car back.”

Naomi clears her throat. “Thank you, Alonso. For… you know.”

Alonso stares at his hands, and suddenly Penny is back in that dream—that memory—when Giovanni looked down at his own hands as if expecting them to be stained in blood.

“I shouldn’t have punched him,” Alonso says.

“I disagree,” Naomi says. “Are you okay?”

He smiles bitterly. “Just bruises. The usual.”

Penny’s back pocket buzzes. Her phone was spared death by vodka, so that’s good news. Her hands are sticky, but when she sees that it’s Ron, she swipes to answer it. “Hey, everything okay?”

“Baby girl,” Ron says, and his tone makes Penny’s breath catch. “You need to come to the hospital.”

Penny’s grip on the phone tightens. “What happened?”

“It’s your mama,” Ron says. “She’s taken a turn for the worse.”