Free Old Magic by Marianne Curley Page B

my glasses. She’s dropped a tray that was carrying orange juice and sandwiches. Bits of grain bread, tomato, salad stuff, and juice are spread out over the shiny timber floor.
    “Jillian!” Kate calls out, the book slamming shut in my hands as she goes to help Jillian clean up the mess.
    “I’m sorry,” Jillian apologizes, her eyes wide and wary, remaining on me. “I’ve never heard the script read with such perfect enunciation,” she says softly.
    My eyes jump to the book in my hands, which sudden-ly seems to burn my fingers. Did I really read those words?
    I must look confused. Jillian leaves the mess on the floor to Kate to tidy, her voice gentle and sincere. “Who taught you to read the ancient tongue, Jarrod?”
    I shake my head, unable to accept that I was reading from that book. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Those words were in perfect English.”
    Kate lifts the tray now, carrying a load of broken china and bits of soggy sandwiches to her dresser. “Old English, quite undecipherable today.”
    “That’s not true,” I counter, even though they were my own words. I recall something from last year’s his-tory lessons. “English today has retained many of the ancient words. In fact it’s just an expanded and revised form.”
    Kate accepts none of this. “Wake up, Jarrod. You said yourself it wasn’t English.”
    I stand a little unsteadily, aware that I need to get out of this house really quickly. “Look, I don’t know what happened just then, my imagination ran away with me, that’s all.”
    Kate groans. “Sit down, Jarrod, and listen. There’s only one way I can make you believe this stuff.”
    I stare at her, wondering what she has in mind. The hairs at the back of my neck bristle. She raises one arched brow, challenging me to sit and watch and obey. I open my mouth to say I have decided to stand and run, but she has her hands on my shoulders, shoving, firmly, until I sit again on the bed.
    Kate exchanges a quick glance with Jillian, who moves to the dresser and lifts the tray. “Nothing too startling now, Kate. I’ll just be downstairs if you need me.”
    I have a sudden urge to grab Jillian and drag her, albeit probably screaming, back into the room. I don’t want to be alone with Kate while she’s in this mood. Anything could happen. My heart starts pounding so fast I think it’s going to catapult up my throat and hurtle across the room.
    Kate’s voice is soft as she pressures me to stay calm. I think this is a joke, or a dream. I feel disoriented, and fight the need to move. She sits down again by my feet, and I’m trapped. Kate’s back leans against the bed frame and she twists her body so she can look up at me. “I’m not going to hurt you, Jarrod. I just want to show you a little magic.”
    I nod, words do not form in the arid desert my mouth has become.
    “Relax,” she murmurs soothingly. Her fingers start spinning around a ball or something in her hands. I missed seeing where she got it from, but then I’m not exactly in the most alert state of mind. It’s a glass ball, I realize, as I catch glimpses of it through her twirling fingers. She notices where my eyes have focused. “It’s a clear crystal Jillian gave me when I was three. It’s a training tool. I don’t need it anymore, but sometimes, especially when it’s late and I can’t sleep, I play games with it. Simple tricks really. Like this one.”
    She holds the crystal up to my face. I’m not exactly sure what I’m supposed to be looking for and don’t see anything unusual. All the same, it might be my agitated senses, but I find it impossible to drag my eyes away. It seems to loom closer, grow larger even, but this perhaps is an illusion. I’m concentrating hard now. Vivid, shifting colors, like fancy silk scarves, move inside it for a minute, then nothing. I start wondering, is that it? And I’m glad in a way that nothing too amazing or outlandish happened. I mean, shifting colors of