The Magic Mirror of the Mermaid Queen - Delia Sherman [70]
While we snipped, molded, glued, and tied, Mukuti and I got a crash course on genie management.
Once a genie was summoned, it had to grant the summoner’s wishes, with a preference for doing exactly what you asked rather than what you really wanted. If you wished for a genie to be free, it was usually grateful to you for life.
Except, as Bergdorf had pointed out, Bloody Mary wasn’t really a genie. She was just bound like one.
“She’s wild,” Stonewall said. “She’s got her own rules. We can’t be sure the binding will keep her from attacking us when we summon her.”
Mukuti offered to share her protective charms. Fortran said they were a load of junk. Tiffany suggested we break into the talisman closet and steal some real heavy-duty protection. Stonewall suggested we make a protective circle before we did the summoning.
We added a protective circle to our plan.
“So we just wish her into the bathroom mirror, right?” Bergdorf asked.
“That don’t play,” Espresso said. “We gotta cut her loose from the Mermaid’s mirror before she can hit another one.”
“And if we cut her loose,” Mukuti said, “she can hit anything she wants. Like us.”
“Plus,” Bergdorf said, “if she’s free, she’ll be totally all over Miss Van Loon’s.”
Fortran raised a finger. “Except, she needs to be in a mirror, and the bathroom mirror is the only one in the school. And we’ll be protected by the circle.”
“We hope,” Bergdorf said gloomily.
Tiffany laughed. “Total suicide. Sounds like a plan.”
“It’s the beginning of one, anyway,” said Stonewall.
We talked a lot more, but basically, that was it. That afternoon, in the brightly lit library, it sounded totally doable.
That night, in the dark stairwell, I wasn’t so sure.
The third-floor swinging doors squealed when they opened, like a tortured mouse. Bergdorf gasped. Someone—Fortran, probably—snorted. Laughter fizzed up in my throat.
“Shut up!” Tiffany hissed.
“Welcome to Spookville,” Espresso murmured. “Population, uncertain.” Which set us all off. Snorting and giggling, we groped our way along the wall to the girls’ bathroom.
I heard a click as someone turned the knob and a creak as the door opened. Nobody moved.
“I can’t go in there,” Fortran said.
“It’s all right,” Stonewall said kindly. “We’re all nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.” Fortran sounded indignant. “It’s just . . . it’s the girls’ bathroom!”
Tiffany treated us to one of her new vocabulary words. “You dorks coming?” she added. “Or am I doing this all by myself?”
We trooped into the bathroom, leaving Danskin outside so he could run (or fly) for help if things got really out of hand.
The door creaked shut, leaving us, if possible, more in the dark than ever. “Now we make a circle,” Mukuti reminded us nervously. We shuffled around. There was a certain amount of stepping on feet and bumping our hips on sinks and our elbows on stall doors. When we’d all found places to stand and each other’s hands, I had the edge of a sink digging into my butt.
I wished I was with the kids downstairs, pretending to be frightened.
Our plan called for Bergdorf and Tiffany to set up the summoning. A match flared, illuminating a white mask with red circles on the cheeks and huge red lips—Wicked Stepsister Bergdorf. Pirate Tiffany lit two red candles at the trembling flame and stuck them on the shelf under the bathroom mirror.
I looked around the circle. Reflected candlelight glinted off Fortran’s big black-framed glasses, Stonewall’s vampire teeth, and the sequins Espresso had glued to the flowers covering her mask. Airboy had fur over his whole face except where his eyes glittered through two narrow slits. Tiffany’s mask was nothing but a blank white oval scored down one side with parallel red lines.
I took a steadying breath. “Ready, Tiffany?”
“Woolworth,”she corrected angrily, and pulled the bundled mirror out of her pocket.
Layer by layer she unwrapped it, stuffing the rags back into her pocket as she went. When the silver disk of the Mermaid Queen’s Magic Mirror lay naked in her hand, she put it on the floor.