Bras & Broomsticks

Chapter 1: Better Than Ruby Slippers

I've wished for lots of things in my fourteen years...a boyfriend, world peace, cleavage. But none of my wishes have come true.

Until now.

I'm standing by my locker, zipping up my black puffy coat, when I notice the sneakers.

They're the green suede designer ones I admired at Bloomie's last week. My mom said I couldn't have them because they cost more than our TV.

And they're on my feet.

"But how-" I mumble, blinking in confusion. Where are the beaten-up black boots I always have on? "I mean, when...?"

Did I accidentally swap shoes with someone after gym? Am I a thief?

Impossible. The only time I ever took anything that wasn't mine was when I inadvertently wore Jewel's retainer. Gross, yes. But criminal? No.

My heart starts beating erratically. This is so weird. How did these shoes get on my feet?

Wait a millisecond. Maybe my mom bought them to surprise me? Not that she normally does stuff like that, but I have been on my best behavior lately (after being grounded for something completely ridiculous, don't even ask) and she's big on rewarding good deeds.

I guess I must have laced them up this morning without even noticing. Lame. But I went to bed really late last night, and I'm always zoned out when I'm tired.

That still doesn't explain why I didn't notice I was wearing them until now though. I glance back down. The shoes are a luminous green. Sparkling, even. They're practically screaming at me to notice them.

Whatever. New shoes! The ideal accessory for my awesome after-school plans. I smile like someone who just got her braces off.

"Can I borrow your phone?" I ask Tammy. She's busy rummaging through her satchel. The least I can do is thank my mom-maybe she'll cave on a cell phone for me next.

"Cool shoes," Tammy says, glancing down. "When did you change?"

"I...didn't. I've, uh, been wearing them all day." Haven't I? Now I'm totally unsure again.

Tammy gives me a thumbs-up sign with her right hand and passes the phone with her left. She uses finger signals to indicate her thoughts. She learned to scuba dive with her family last year in Aruba and now frequently communicates by underwater mime. Thumbs-up means "Let's get out of the water," which means she wants to hightail it out of here.

My mom answers on the first ring.

"Mom, thanks for the sneakers. They're perfect! Sorry I didn't notice them this morning."

Pause. Then muffled silence.

"You still there?" I ask, tapping my heels together. Who knew green suede could look so glam? "I can't hear you."

There's furious whispering in the background, and then a loud "Shhh!"

"You need to come home," my mom tells me.

"What? Why? I ask. My stomach free-falls.

Another pause. More furious whispering. "I have something to talk to you about," my mom says. Her voice sounds uneven. "Something extremely important."

"But I have extremely important after-school plans!" My destiny is waiting for me at Stromboli Pizzeria! This is a complete and utter disaster. "And when I called you an hour ago you said I could go!"

"Things have changed," my mother says, her clipped words ruining my life. "I want you back at the apartment."

My down-filled coat starts to feel like a furnace. "Can't we talk about whatever is so earth-shattering latet?"