Free Parties & Potions #4 by Sarah Mlynowski Page A

sister if I’m hoping she loses her Internet connection because of a freak power failure?
    For dinner, Mom serves a particularly vile vegetarian black bean burrito dish. I try to moosa it away like they did at the Full Moon dinner, but the plate just gets zapped from the table to the kitchen counter.
    Mom snickers. “Nice try.”
    After helping with the dishes, I retreat to my room to read my American history assignment. Hello, Civil War. I’m daydreaming about Scarlett O’Hara’s hoop dresses when Miri screams out, “Lozacea!”
    “Bless you!” I call back.
    “I found something! There’s a place in Arizona that offers group lessons too! And they don’t start until next week! I’m calling them right now!”
    Mom and I both join Miri in her room as she’s dialing.
    I crawl onto her bed while she paces, the receiver pressed against her ear.
    Mom leans against the doorframe. “Do you want me to talk to them?”
    Miri shakes her head. My sister is not messing around. “I got it. Hello? My name is Miri Weinstein, and I’m calling because my sister and I want to find out more information about your Samsorta classes…. Really? You’re not full?”
    Terrific.
    “Yes, we both have our powers. I’m thirteen and she’s fourteen.”
    “Fifteen!” I correct. One more day! One more day!
    “Sure,” she continues. “That would be fine. We look for-ward to meeting you, Matilda.” She hangs up the phone. “Wahoo! We’re in!” She shimmies around the room.
    “Um. Yay?”
    “I’m so excited!” she shrieks, hugging me. “We’re going to Lozacea!”
    Mom crosses her arms. “Not until I check them out, you’re not.”
    “They’re very reputable,” Miri assures her. “Here’s their number.”
    Mom takes the phone, dials, and retreats into the hallway.
    Meanwhile, Miri dances—if you can call it that—around her room. Clearly she didn’t inherit dancing skills either. “We’re in!” she shrieks. “All we have to do is pass the test!”
    Er. I raise an eyebrow. “What test?”
    “Matilda in admissions said she just has to make sure we actually have our powers. Apparently people have tried to fake it. She’ll stop by sometime this week.”
    Pop quiz? Awesome. “Stop by where? Here? At school? Where?”
    “It’s all good!”
    Yeah, right. I’m not just worried. I’m very worried. I’m actually feeling very queasy right now.
    Of course, it’s probably because of the un-moosa-able black bean burrito.

Birthday Lovin’
     
    Happy birthday to me! I wake up singing to myself. It’s my birthday and I’ll sing if I want to!
    I’m fifteen. Which is so old. I’m halfway through my teens! One year away from getting my driver’s permit. Three years away from voting. Six years away from drinking. Twelve years away from getting married! (Yes, I’ve given it lots of thought, contemplated a few formulas, and I believe that twenty-seven is the ideal age to get married.)
    After my birthday shower, I put on my birthday outfit (ha-ha, not really my birthday outfit, since I’m not naked), my favorite jeans and a cool magically altered top, and pad my way to the kitchen. “I’m fifteen!” I holler. “Hear me roar!”
    My mom serves me a plate of banana pancakes, my favorite. “Happy birthday, honey! Do you want to open your present now or tonight?”
    “Hmm, tonight is fine,” I say with a straight face. Then I crack up. “I want to open it this very second, what do you think?” Gimme that cell phone, baby!
    She hands me a small box wrapped in striped wrapping paper. I rip inside and it’s a … pair of socks.
    Just kidding! It’s a cell phone! A beautiful silver pocket-sized cell phone! “Wahoo!” Just call me on my cell. Excuse me, I think my cell is ringing. Nice to meet you; let me give you my cell number.
    “No surprises this year,” Mom says. “Just don’t go crazy with your calls and your texts. You and Miri are sharing minutes.”
    “Love you!” I kiss her cheek.
    Miri hands me a