The Silver Kiss by Annette Curtis Klause Page B

was looking under the couch for her shoes when the phone rang again. She snatched it up. Had her father changed his mind? But it was Pat Reynolds, the owner of the gallery her mother showed at.
    â€œWe’re having an opening tomorrow night,” she said.
    â€œI thought you might like to come. I mean, I know Harry’s busy. I thought you might like to get out.”
    â€œI don’t know, Pat,” Zoë said. “I’d feel out of place without Mom.”
    â€œThere’ll be people you know there.”
    But they’d all be her parents’ friends. They would greet her with overly jolly hellos and then not know what to saynext. She hated those awkward silences. She’d be miserable. “Can I think about it?”
    â€œSure, Zoë, call me. Take care.” They both knew she wouldn’t come.
    She left early, to avoid more phone calls, although maybe that was a mistake. Usually the walk to school meant a welcome chance to think, but today she didn’t want to think. It would be all right if Lorraine were there. Lorraine could make her feel better. But Lorraine had driver’s ed at eight o’clock, and had left an hour ago. It was the only course she showed up for consistently.
    The rhythm of Zoë’s steps reminded her of another walk. Who was that boy, Simon? Was he a runaway, or what? He wasn’t from around there, because he seemed to have a slight accent of some sort. He was so matter-of-fact about his parents being dead. Was he lying, she wondered, or was it so long ago it was like an old wound—only aching sometimes? Could you get used to it? If so, maybe he had something to teach her about survival. She couldn’t figure him out. One minute he was nervous, and the next he seemed so confident. It was funny, she had thought she was leading him, but now that she looked back on it, she realized he had never hesitated once, as if he knew the way. Silly, she thought. He couldn’t have.
    Zoë kept her eyes on the moss-bordered flagstones of the sidewalk as she walked, glancing up to avoid the occasional pedestrian, or to cross an intersection. Step on a crack; break your mother’s back, she thought, rememberingchildhood magic. Then, irrationally, she was stepping into the middle of each paving stone, avoiding the grooves between them, trying to coordinate her steps at an even pace to miss the cracks. She had to hop now and then to correct her momentum. She went faster and faster, challenging the ground. Then she came to a street corner and had to stop for traffic.
    Could I really make a magic spell? she thought. If I see a silver car pass before the light changes, my mother won’t die. The light changed immediately, and she bit back a cry of dismay. I’m a child, she thought. A stupid child. No wonder they hardly ever let me see her for long.
    There were only a few people outside school. It was still a long time until the bell. Zoë sat on the semicircle of stone wall that faced the flagpole to wait, but as she thought over the day’s classes, she realized she had left her calculus textbook at home. She had thought everything she needed was in her locker, but now she remembered she had last seen it on top of the refrigerator. Perhaps she had time to go back and get it. No. If she left now, she wouldn’t come back to school today.
    That idea caught her fancy at once. Why should she go, anyhow? She couldn’t possibly concentrate. How much could she get done? Lorraine does it all the time, she thought, and she doesn’t get caught. And what if I did? I’ve got an excuse. A bitter snort escaped her lips. Yes, who would blame me? she decided. She got up at once and left the school grounds.
    Where did people go when they skipped school? Did the police really pick you up for truancy? She had cut a few classes before, but never the whole day. She walked back the way she had come but passed her home and went to the park.
    It was too