P.C. Cast - Mysteria Nights

“I had no idea,” Summer said.

“Well, girlfriend, you do now.”

“Hey, speaking of stuff I’m confused about, would you please explain to me why a Certified Discipline Nymph is so roll-your-eyes about my control issues? Isn’t control pretty much just another word for discipline?”

“Oh, my poor, deluded young friend. Let Ms. Sullivan help you. Discipline is what you have to be good at so you can release control. Girlfriend, you’re too tightly wrapped. Flex those discipline muscles, relax that snoreable übercontrol you carry around with you, and you’ll be amazed at the results.”

“I dunno . . .” Summer said doubtfully. “But I can tell you I never thought of discipline as the antithesis of control before.”

“Gives you a whole new outlook on discipline, doesn’t it?”

“You’re right about that. I can tell you that I’m going to start flexing my discipline muscles with the hormones and germs in my class. Like you said last night, I’m only going to call them by their last names, miss or mister whoever. It’s much more formal; much more disciplined .”

“Well done, you!” Jenny smiled encouragement. “I knew you’d be a quick study. Speaking of the germs and hormones, let’s round them up. I do believe I see the field trip bus waiting for us out there.” As they herded the students onto the bus, Jenny called, “You did clear this with Barnabas, the gallery owner, didn’t you?”

“I sent him an e-mail saying that I’d be bringing a busload of kids to view the exhibit today. I got a reply saying that would be fine.”

“Good. I was worried for a second, because I thought I heard that Barnabas had left for a vacation to France. The nymph gossip said that the poor gay vampire took off to France because he was inconsolable about Hunter Knight falling for Evie Tawdry instead of him.”

“But Hunter’s not gay,” Summer said as they followed the last student on the bus and took their seats near the front.

“Moxie, we’ve got them all,” Jenny called to the short, squat, greenhaired bus driver.

“Moving out, Ms. Sullivan,” Moxie growled, let loose the emergency brake, and pulled the bus out onto the street.

“What is she?” Summer whispered. Eyes focused on the back of Moxie’s green hair, she was sure she saw one of the thick strands move of its own accord.

“Mox? She’s a troll. They make the best bus drivers. They don’t put up with shit.” And then, as if she literally had eyes in the back of her head, Moxie’s head turned almost all the way around and she barked, “Sam Wheeler! Get your big, nasty boots off my bus seat. You are not at home. Put them up there again, and I’ll take those feet off at the ankles. I’d much rather clean up blood than pig crap.”

“Yes ma’am,” Sam said sheepishly.

“See? Trolls know their discipline. Anyway, where were we? Oh yeah. No, Hunter’s definitely not gay, as everyone, including Barnabas, knows. But I feel kinda sorry for the poor gay vamp anyway; unrequited love gets me right here.” Jenny fisted her hand over her heart.

“Really? I wouldn’t have pegged you for the sentimental type, Ms. Discipline.”

“I’m not sentimental. I’m romantic.”

“A discipline romantic?”

“Girlfriend, you have so much to learn. Romance is best with a healthy touch of discipline. Especially if it involves whips and handcuffs. And since we’re on the romance subject, what’s on the menu tonight with Kenny-benny?”

“I really wish you wouldn’t call him that.”

“Sorry. I’ll be good. Promise.”

Summer noted that Jenny’s sparkly eyes said she was the opposite of sorry, but she decided not to say anything. Plus, she really did want to go over what she was going to cook for Ken. She was going to cook for Ken! Just the thought had her stomach rolling with nerves. She cleared her throat. “Okay, I thought I’d make a nice salad, with lots of lovely greens, and then have spaghetti with tofu and, of course, garlic bread, and maybe finish up with a big slice of peach cobbler. What do you think?”

“I think I was asking about your lingerie and not about dinner.”

“But you asked me what was on the menu tonight.”

“Yes, and I expected you to say something like, ‘Why, Jenny, me and my lovely black panty and bra set are definitely the first three courses.’” At Summer’s blank look, Jenny’s eyes got big and round. “Oh, Goddess! When you asked him over for dinner, you really meant dinner.”

Summer frowned. “Of course I did.”

“Oh, um. Okay, well, tofu spaghetti sounds just dandy then.”

Summer seemed not to have heard her. “Ohmygoddess! Do you think Ken thinks I’m on the menu, too?”

“Let’s hope so,” Jenny said.

“No!” Summer gasped. “That’s not what—I mean, I wasn’t thinking that. Exactly. Or at least not on our first date. That’s isn’t in accordance with my plan. We weren’t going to have sex until the third date.” She chewed her bottom lip. “Jenny, have I messed up?”

“Are you kidding? Kenny-ben—ur—I mean, Kenny isn’t exactly Mr. Forceful. If he comes on to you, and you don’t want to do him, just say no.”

“I might want to do him,” Summer whispered.

“Okay, then just say no nicely.”

“But that wasn’t what I was planning.”

“Oh, please! Would you loosen up? If you want to have sex, then boink the fairy. If you don’t, then wait until the third or even the thirtieth date. Whatever.”

Summer fanned herself. “I’m never going to be able to do this.”

Jenny peered down her nose at her as if she were an unusual specimen under a magnifying glass. “Darling, didn’t you date at all in college?”

Summer’s cheeks flushed pink. “Yeah, of course I did.”

“And?”

“And nothing. If I liked the guy, I decided when we’d, well, do it , and then we did it.”

“Always according to your well-controlled plan,” Jenny supplied.

“Always.”

“Oh my Goddess! You’ve really never been swept off your feet by hot, sticky, steamy, raunchy sex.”

When a couple of the kids sitting closest to the front of the bus gasped and laughed, Jenny turned her narrowed eyes on them, instantly quieting their tittering.

Summer frowned and lowered her voice. “No, and I don’t think I’d like what you just described. It sounds so . . . so . . .”

“So out-of-control?”

“Yes. Exactly. And I’m not particularly good with out-of-control.”

“That is shameful,” Jenny said.

“Well, it’s the way I am. And there’s nothing wrong with the way I am,” Summer said, more than a little defensively.

“Oh, girlfriend, I don’t mean to make you feel bad about yourself. It’s just that you’re missing so much.”

Summer shrugged. “I don’t know. I had fun in college.”

“I don’t mean frat banging and one-night stands. I mean love.”

“Huh?”

“Girlfriend, don’t you know that love can’t be controlled and planned and prepackaged or hermetically sealed to be taken out when it fits into your schedule?”

Summer chewed her lip and thought about Ken. When she spoke, her voice was so soft that Jenny had to tilt her head toward her to hear her. “I was kinda thinking that Ken would be the guy I let myself fall in love with. You know, college is over. He’s here in my hometown. He’s literally the boy next door.”

“I don’t know. It just sounds so clinical. And love is definitely not clinical.” Jenny shook her head. “No. This will never do.” She tapped a long, manicured red fingernail against her skintight black slacks. “What if I did a spell on you—one that I meant to be the opposite of what I really cast?” Before Summer could protest, she hurried on. “I could cast a control spell on you. That should get zapped by your opposite magic and allow you to relax with him tonight. Then what happens between you can at least happen naturally. Right?”