Spell Fire by Ariella Moon Read Free Book Online

drugged. The embroidered Christmas trees on her sweater rose and fell in time with her blinking MERRY CHRISTMAS brooch. The college-aged chick in the aisle seat glanced at her before returning to her romance novel.
    I clawed at the pouch on the seatback in front of me. There had to be an airsickness bag. Finding none, I cupped my hands over my mouth and hyperventilated. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. The plane zoomed down the runway, angled upwards, and we were off.
    Think about something other than your phone and laptop and how you are cut off from Jazmin, your parents, and your homework hotline. Focus on something positive… Ninety minutes of uninterrupted study time. Excellent. Studying will knock another entry off my to-do list .
    Calmed, I decided to tackle U.S. Literature.
    Thunk.
    I held my breath. Had the person seated behind me hit my seat by accident, or was there going to be a problem?
    Thunk. Thunk. Thunkthunkthunkthunkthunk .
    The captain had illuminated the Fasten Seat Belt light. I was trapped, pain exploding like a cluster bomb in my lower back. I twisted as much as the belt allowed and glared at the people in the row behind me. Well, person. All I could see was the forty-something woman seated next to the window. She held an entertainment magazine in her press-on claws. The heat of my glare finally got her attention and she lowered the magazine, revealing a gold lamé halter beneath a faux leopard-print jacket. Her cleavage had the wrinkly, deep tan look signaling way too much time spent by the pool.
    Her Cleopatra eyes rolled toward the middle seat and my unseen assailant. "Isis, Mommy told you to stop kicking the seat."
    I have great hearing. So unless "Mommy" had used telepathy, she was lying.
    "Read to me," a little voice pleaded. A picture book held by a small, pale hand pushed into my field of vision.
    "Look at the pictures, Isis. Mommy's reading her own book."
    So not.
    The skank threw me a what-are-you-staring-at glare.
    Whatever. I leaned forward and extracted The Scarlet Letter from my backpack. I needed to write an expository essay on it for my Lit final. I hadn't decided whether to delve into Puritan theology or gender issues.
    Thunk. Thunk. Thunkthunkthunk—
    Forget the Fasten Seat Belt sign! I unclicked the belt and threw it down like a gauntlet. Channeling Gong Li and Maggie Q, I stood and whirled, my patented chill-or-be-killed look blazing like lasers from my eyes. Enraged, I faced my tormentor.
    She glanced up at me, her blue eyes wide with fear.
    I took in Isis's ratty pink sweater, her worn purple princess dress that reached the tops of her lacy ankle socks, and her sparkly red Wizard of Oz shoes.
    The shoes stopped me.
    Isis nervously clicked her feet together. She must have done it a lot, because most of the sparkles had fallen off where the shoes rubbed together. White streaks marred the patent leather. My mind rocketed back to when my parents had picked me up from Sophia's seventh birthday party. Outside her foster parents' house, Mom had tried to take the car key away from Dad, claiming he was too drunk to drive. As their voices rose, the German shepherd across the street had started barking. Sophia pushed open the screen door. My cheeks heated as I remembered her standing on the porch next to a dead hydrangea in a cracked clay pot. The scene played like a black-and-white movie in my brain. The only pop of color was the red Dorothy shoes I had given Sophia for her birthday.
    I sat back down.
    A while later, the captain turned off the seat belt sign. The flight attendants rattled by with the beverage cart. Pretzels and orange juice kept Isis busy for another fifteen minutes. I gulped Sprite to calm my nerves. After the crew collected the trash, the tray table behind me pressed into my back, and I heard it click into position. I tried to concentrate on The Scarlet Letter so I wouldn't think about Mom and Dad.
    A small hand grasped the top of my seat and warm breath puffed against my head.