“Please tell me you’re kidding.” At least I managed not to sound too bewildered. But it was hard to contain the surprise on my face.
“He’s a wizard. He’s also the one who’s been making the shakes. Pretty good cop, too.”
Now I was truly speechless. Why was every guy I found hot something out of this world?
“Constantine, I don’t think that’s a good idea. The man hates me.” If not hate, he really despised me.
“Stop being so judgmental. He might surprise you. So be ready bright and early. He’ll be here by six.”
Thanks, Constantine, for the great news. Now I was never going to sleep.
“By the way, Isis, you have a message. That boy from Abuelita’s stopped by today. He left this for you.” Bartholomew passed me an envelope with my name on it.
The only boy from Abuelita’s who came to mind was Angelito. I wasn’t sure why Angelito would be leaving me notes. He had my cell phone. Why didn’t he just text me? By the time I opened the damn letter, I was worried. This could be really bad. I decided to read the letter out loud, for the boys’ sake.
“Hey, Isis, the girls who jumped you will be at Shooters tonight. Be careful. They’re a bunch of biker chicks—very dangerous.” That was the whole note.
“Why is he telling you this?” Bartholomew had read my mind. “Something’s not right about this. Why didn’t he just call you?”
“I have no idea, Bart. Maybe I could follow them and find Bob and the rest of the people.”
“Isis, Bartholomew is right. This could be a trap.” Constantine was still as he spoke, and every word was precise.
“Why would Angelito be working with the witches?” Angelito was not a bad guy, clueless about girls.
“Boys do dumb things for girls. Trust me; I’ve seen it through the centuries.” That one I truly believed. Constantine was right, and Angelito was notorious for poor decisions when it came to girls.
“Unless you have a better idea, guess I’ll be going out tonight.” I dropped my cup and spoon in the trash can. Bartholomew and Constantine just watched me and said nothing. I went directly to my room.
I was very confused about the note. Angelito had never sent me a note before. None of it made sense. I sat down on my bed, contemplating the note again. I lay down and debated texting Angelito for more info. I was more tired than I thought, because I passed out. It was eight thirty in the evening when I woke up. I wasn’t sure what time the witches would be at Shooters, but I needed to hurry. I took a quick shower and grabbed a pair of pants and a shirt. Normally I avoided makeup at all costs. Today I added mascara and eyeliner to my face. I didn’t want to attract too much attention while I was there. I finished dressing and headed back out toward the kitchen door.
“How was your nap? You look refreshed,” Bart said from across the room.
“Who are you supposed to be?” Constantine was still at the kitchen table, this time staring at me.
“What do you mean?” What was he talking about?
“Dressed like that. You look like Lil Wayne or that other guy. What’s his name?” Constantine looked over at Bartholomew.
“Tony Hawk,” Bart said.
“Yes, thank you, Bartholomew. That’s the one. Isis, why are you dressed like a skater kid?”
Did I really look like a skater?
“This was what I wore when I went to clubs in New York City.” Nobody was complaining up north.
“Girl, those were hip-hop clubs. Besides, it was New York. Here, you need to dress to fit in. Like a girl, not a twelve-year-old boy.”
I had boobs. I did not look like a twelve-year-old boy. Constantine was a horrible career counselor.
“I like what I’m wearing. No need to get all sorts of mean about it.” I was whining, but I didn’t care.
“Isis, don’t be silly. You’re in Texarkana. Please put some on tight-fitting clothes, like most girls in this area. Remember, recon operation. Don’t draw any more attention to yourself.”
Constantine had a point. I needed to blend in. “Bart, do I really look that bad?”
He paused for a second. “You look really cool but definitely skater boy.” I dropped my head, defeated. “You won’t blend in at all.”
“Fine. I’ll go change. But I’m going on the record: this was not my idea.”
Being girlie was hard. Everything was always so complicated, from the hair to the clothes. Normally it took me less than ten minutes to get ready. I had been staring at the open door for almost thirty minutes. This was not going well. I hated dressing up, and this was a massacre. I found a pair of black leather pants I had bought for a Halloween party one year. I also found a tank top with patterns and jewelry. It was one of the few presents my godmother had given me that I didn’t hate. The combination was not bad at all. But I felt very self-conscious. I didn’t like tight clothes at all.
I stepped out of my room, this time with a little less confidence than before. I was sure I looked ridiculous. Why had I listened to those two?
“Much better. What took you so long?” Constantine was tough.
“It was pretty hard to put clothes on that make me look fifteen.” I was so self-conscious.
“Don’t be so dramatic. You at least look like a normal girl going to a normal human bar.” Constantine was placing a lot of emphasis on normal.
“Fine. I’ll take it. As long as they let me in.” It would suck to drive all the way there and not be able to get in.
“You will now. If I’m not mistaken, Wednesday is karaoke night there.”
I was staring at Constantine in shock. “How did you know that? Actually, never mind. I don’t want to know.” I walked over
