“Please take me home now,” she said a few minutes later.

“Absolutely not! We need to go to the police.”

“No, I want you to take me home. I don’t want to go to the police, and if you take me I will deny everything.” Mina turned on Brody angrily. “I never asked you to get involved, I never asked you to sit with me and chauffeur me around. Hanging out with me for two days does not give you permission to decide what I should and should not do. Besides, this would never have happened if you hadn’t run over my bike! I never asked for your help and I don’t want it. Take me HOME.” The last words flew from her mouth and she instantly regretted her tone. But it was too late to take them back; the damage was done.

Neither of them spoke a word until they reached the international district, delineated by faded Mexican stands and restaurants, and the occasional Chinese joint. She demanded he stop one block from her home. “Stop, here!” she pointed and Brody pulled over.

“Mina, I’m sorry!” Brody began but was interrupted by Mina’s sudden exit from the car.

Mina quickly slipped between the colorful stalls and people trying to lose him. She waited until his car pulled away into the night and she could no longer see his taillights. When Mina was sure Brody wasn’t on her street she ran all the way home, trying hard not to look over her shoulder. She grabbed her key to the blue street level door, ran straight up the stairs and yelled goodnight to her mom, claiming she was tired. Once safe, Mina crawled into bed, cradling her hands around her knees, and cried herself to sleep, wishing she hadn’t stumbled on the Pandora’s box that was her family’s curse, and wondering how she’d ever survive.

Chapter 9

Mina had the full intention of going to school the day after the attack, by covering her bruises with makeup. She was about to tell her mother about the attack at the library, but then decided against it, when Sara took one wide eyed look at the bruise and began to shake. Mina quickly played it off as another clumsy gym class incident, which was not uncommon for Mina, and it seemed to ease her mother’s fears.

If Sara knew that her daughter was attacked by a large man in the alley, she would make them run again, Mina knew. She went to the small closet that housed the family’s laundry and reached into the dryer to pull out a clean hoodie. “What the..?” Mina spoke aloud. The hoodie she’d pulled out was red, and she hated the color red.

She reached up to pull out another zippered jacket. This one was red too. In fact all of Mina’s hoodies were now permanently red. Her mother warned her that the Story would try and mold Mina’s lifestyle into a fairy tale, but she didn’t believe it until now. When she went to show her mother, she could tell it shook her, perhaps more than anything that had happened so far. Sara didn't blink an eye when Mina asked to stay home from school. Something about the red jackets terrified her mother into compliance.

Sara went on a one-woman war against the color red. She threw every piece of red clothing in the house in the garbage. She scoured the house high and low for every red ribbon, washcloth, marker and pen, and even burned the red Christmas stockings. Gone. All of it, gone.

Sara bought Mina new clothes and a few new hoodies at the local Target, despite their limited budget. She brought home blue, lavender and white zippered jackets to replace Mina’s other ones.

They lasted a day. The next morning Mina opened up her closet to find another sea of red.

She pulled down a hoodie that she knew yesterday had been a beautiful royal blue; it even said so on the tag. Today it was a deep red. Mina grabbed the next jacket, and the next. All red. Thankfully none of the denim had been changed, so she grabbed a pair and matched it with a red shirt and red jacket. Otherwise, she’d have looked like a bright red tomato.

These events only encouraged Mina more, by Saturday, she was even more determined to find the Grimoire. She had to, as she knew her very life, and that of her brother, depended on it.

Hearing voices, Mina entered the kitchen and smiled when she saw Nan Taylor sitting at the breakfast table with Charlie. Nan wore a stocking cap over blonde braids and had layered two long and short sleeve shirts. She had already helped herself to a bowl out of the cupboard and filled it with three different cereals. Charlie had a huge grin on his face exactly parallel to Nan’s deep frown as she dug in.

After she managed a few bites without puking, she stood up and pointed her finger at him. “Ha! I’m telling you, I have a stomach of steel. I can eat any kind of concoction you come up with.” Nan did a little victory dance around the table and Charlie shook his head and pointed to his own bowl of cereal.

Frowning, Nan leaned over to look at his bowl. “What? I used the same cereals that you did! I’ve got Cocoa Puffs, Lucky Charms, Raisin Bran and Mini Wheats. What else could you have fit in there?” There was obviously some contest going on between the two and Charlie was finding a discrepancy in the winner.

Nan was one of the few people that had no problem carrying on a one-sided conversation with Charlie. Considering that she usually talked enough for three people, anticipating what Charlie was going to say was probably easy for her. Or so Mina guessed.

Nan picked up Charlie’s spoon and began to dig around in his bowl to see what else he’d put in there. “I don’t see it. I made mine the same and I ate half of the bowl, so I win, Pip Squeak.” Dropping the spoon into the bowl with a clank, Nan leaned back and put her foot on the table. “Pay up.”

Charlie grinned again and shook his head no. Standing up, he went over to the small refrigerator and yanked the door open. A few seconds later he emerged holding a brown bottle of caramel syrup. Walking over, he put it down next to Nan’s half eaten cereal bowl with a satisfied grin. Nan sat up in disbelief.

“NO WAY!” She leaned back over and looked closely at the tan colored milk in Charlie’s bowl. Her victorious grin faded as she realized what she had to do. “That is some serious sugar going on there. How in the world do you sleep at night?” Nan asked respectfully. She never criticized Charlie, or ridiculed him for his weird eating habits, but praised him for his uniqueness. “So I have to add this to my cereal, huh?”

Charlie’s smile got wider.

Nan gulped visibly and her hand wavered for an instant in front of the bottle, but she took one look at the smiling boy and regained her resolve. Popping open the top, she poured a few good tablespoons into the bowl and mixed it up with her spoon, watching Charlie the whole time. Right before her first bite, she paused and pursed her lips in thought. Suddenly she jumped up and went to the fridge, rummaging around inside, and came back with a white and blue container. Retrieving a clean spoon, Nan scooped a huge tablespoon of the mixture into her cereal. Charlie’s face went green with disgust. Charlie hated cottage cheese and Nan knew it.

Fearlessly, Nan stared down the eight-year-old boy, grabbed her spoon, and dipped it into her intensely gross breakfast. She put a huge spoonful into her mouth and chewed slowly, even thoughtfully, as if she were tasting all the flavors. Charlie watched Nan chew in awe, before he visibly paled and started to gag. The boy dropped his spoon and raced for the bathroom.

As soon as the bathroom door slammed, Nan turned to the sink and spit out the mouthful of food. She turned on the water and leaned forward to rinse out her mouth. When that didn’t work, she reached back into the fridge and grabbed a container of orange juice and began to chug right from the container.