Even and Odd Read online

  Stepping back, Even locked her hands behind her back and used magic to stir the batter with a spoon. Carefully, she lifted a scoop of batter and poured it onto the hot griddle. It sizzled as it spread into a circle. “If you don’t understand, I can’t explain it to you.”

  Odd rolled her eyes. “Seriously? That’s not even remotely an answer. And don’t try to tell me that becoming a hero has anything to do with making a magical pancake.”

  “It’s practice!”

  “You can’t claim it’s because your stupid test is Friday. You do this every other day—”

  “I’d do it every day, if I could.” Why was Odd acting like this? She knew Even liked to do as much magic as possible on even days. And why was she calling the exam “stupid”? It was the Academy of Magic’s official exam! The Academy was in charge of regulating all magical endeavors in Firoth. Once you had their approval—

  “There’s nothing wrong with doing things the normal way.” To emphasize this, Odd took plates out of the cabinet and laid them on the table. “See? Easy.”

  Hands still behind her back, Even guided the spatula under the pancake as it bubbled. “But it’s not as awesome,” she said as she flipped the pancake over. As soon as it finished cooking, she sent the pancake flying across the kitchen to land on a plate.

  It skidded off the plate and slid onto the floor.

  Even and Odd stared at it for a moment.

  “That one’s yours,” Odd said.

  Even continued making pancakes and flying them through the air until there were three on each plate, including a plate for Dad. Batter was spattered across the stovetop and counter. But none on the ceiling! she thought, pleased with herself. See, that’s progress. “I don’t understand why you’re acting like you’re anti-magic,” she said. “It’s a part of you. Of us.”

  “I’m not anti-magic!” Odd said. “It’s just . . . there’s a time and a place for it. Sometimes it just makes things worse. Like at school. And in the animal shelter.”

  Suddenly, Even understood. This wasn’t about Mom’s business trip or about Even’s breakfast failures. “You’re upset about yesterday at the shelter.”

  Odd slumped in her chair. “I told Mom and Dad about it, and they said I shouldn’t volunteer at the shelter on odd days until I have my magic under better control—I get too excited around animals. They said I’m just not ready yet.”

  “You can still go on even days,” Even said, trying to cheer her up.

  Scowling, Odd drowned her pancakes in maple syrup. “There are supposed to be new kittens coming tomorrow. Kittens! And I can’t go help.”

  Even tried to think of something that would make things better. “How about we do something fun together tomorrow, on your day? Get your mind off the kittens and the puppies. We could—”

  Before she finished, Dad waltzed into the kitchen. “Ah, girls! You’re awake! Wonderful!” He spun around them, pausing only to plop a kiss on each of their heads. “And pancakes! Yum! Going to have to eat quick, though—we have an item coming in for un-cursing!”

  “Yes!” Even jumped up. Un-cursings were her favorite. Dad always let them help. He said it added to the production if his kids were involved, and the bigger the fuss, the happier the customer.

  Dad always wanted everyone to be as happy as he was. According to him, he’d been born in a berry patch at the base of a rainbow during a festival of flower fairies, and that accounted for his naturally cheerful personality. Also for his hair. Even wasn’t sure there was any truth to that story, but it was true that both his hair and his beard were rainbow-striped. He told everyone it was dyed, but it was natural. Even had blue streaks in her hair, inherited from him, and Odd’s natural hair was lavender, though she dyed it black.

  Picking up a pancake with his fingers, Dad ate it forkless. “Don’t tell your mother,” he said, winking at them as he waved the pancake in the air to show that that was what he was talking about. “Delicious. You’ll need to get dressed first, Even. Hurry, though. The customer will be here any minute. Just got word from Mr. Fratelli that she’s on her way.” Carrying his second and third pancakes, he scooted back out of the kitchen.

  Even shoveled a few more bites of her pancake into her mouth, and then she concentrated on her clothes. Imagining shorts and a T-shirt, she morphed her PJs into them.

  “Ew,” Odd said.

  “What?” Even checked herself. She’d remembered the front and back of her shirt and shorts. She retrieved her sneakers from beside the door and put them on.

  “That doesn’t substitute for showering.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “You’re going to smell.”

  Even was not going to miss an un-cursing because of her younger sister’s obsession with cleanliness. Her skin wouldn’t flake off if she skipped one shower. “You know, in the old days, people bathed once a month.”

  “And died at, like, age thirty-two.”

  “I’m not going to die if I don’t shower for one day.”

  “But you’ll stink.”

  Holding an image in her mind, Even concentrated. She felt her body shrink as the kitchen zoomed up around her. A tail sprouted behind her. Fur burst out over her skin, black and shiny except for one white stripe.

  As a skunk, Even pranced around the kitchen. “How about this? Do I smell better now?” Stopping in front of Odd, she did a handstand, stuck her rear in the air, and wiggled her tail.

  Odd laughed and then rolled her eyes. “Real mature, Even. Tell me again which of us is older? Oh yes, it’s you. Even if we count in rodent years.”

  “Technically, skunks aren’t rodents. I am a magnificent mephitid!” With her lovely fluffy tail held high, Even trotted through the laundry room to the back door of the shop. She was proud she’d remembered the word “mephitid” from her animal books.

  Set far enough apart to nearly fit a centaur, the shelves felt like a canyon to a skunk. But these canyon walls were overflowing with hair gel, superglue, seltzer, nail polish, honey-wheat pretzels, ziplock bags, baby wipes, googly eyes, and Miracle-Gro plant food—every mundane item currently in demand in the magic world.

  Behind her, Odd said, “You’d better change back before Dad sees you and freaks out. Or before he makes me take you to the shelter.”

  “Dad likes when I use my magic.”

  “He won’t like a skunk in the shop, especially with a customer coming.”

  Even knew that, but she loved showing off her magic to Dad. She was certain without even looking at the mirror that she’d shifted into a very realistic skunk. She’d been studying her National Geographic animal encyclopedia all year. He’s going to be impressed, she thought. I need someone to be impressed with me. Between the embarrassing incident with the elf and Mom’s speech about not needing to pass the test . . . she needed a boost. “I’ll change before any customer sees me,” she promised.

  “He’ll think I did it,” Odd warned.

  Changing Even into a skunk was Odd’s specialty, at least when she was annoyed with her sister. She usually skunked Even at least once a year. “Dad knows it’s an even day.” That was why she thought Dad would be impressed—Even had never changed herself into a skunk before.

  She poked her skunk nose around the corner of a shelf. The shop was decorated with thousands of Christmas tree lights wrapped around every shelf and threaded through the rafters in the ceiling. Disco balls in the corners multiplied the lights. Even liked to pretend she was stepping into a meadow lit by fairy lights when she walked into the store.

  “Hey, Dad, we’re here for the un-cursing.”

  Dad turned and spotted her. “Even! Why are you a— Did Odd— No, of course not, it’s an even day. This is all you. Fantastic transformation! What a tail! You’ve clearly been practicing. Well done.”

  “Thanks!” She knew she could count on Dad to give her exactly the reaction she wanted. He was an excellent cheerleader. I am good at this. Very pleased, Even focused on her own image and imagined her skunk self
stretching, shedding its fur . . .

  Weirdly, nothing happened. She stayed a skunk.

  “Beautiful job from tip to tail,” he said, still admiring her skunkiness. “Odd, can you help me set up the cauldron while your sister shapeshifts back into herself?”

  Odd stepped over her and threaded between counters to reach the cauldron, which was balanced on top of a stack of books about Hollywood, the moon landing, the history of chocolate, and other human achievements.

  Even took a few deep breaths to steady her thoughts. Concentrating, she pictured herself: an inch taller than Odd, blue-and-black hair, two scrawny human arms and legs, a mosquito bite on her left elbow. She imagined inserting a skunk into that shape . . .

  Odd set the cauldron down with a thump next to the cash register.

  Exhaling, Even examined herself. Still one hundred percent skunk. She hadn’t felt so much as a tingle.

  Trying not to worry, Even shook herself, shedding fur. Maybe she was overthinking it. Or maybe she was overtired. Or out of magic, though how could that be? It was still early in the day. She shouldn’t be anywhere near her limit. Where was the usual tingle?

  “Even, aren’t you going to change?” Dad asked.

  She opened her mouth to ask Dad if he knew what she was doing wrong, but stopped herself. She didn’t want him thinking she wasn’t ready for the exam. Asking how to transform back into her usual shape was definitely the kind of question that might make him think she wasn’t ready. “One minute.”

  “You’re not going to be able to help if you don’t have opposable thumbs,” he cautioned. “You’ll miss the un-cursing.” As he spread a black velvet tablecloth over the counter, Odd helped fetch supplies from shelves and line them up next to the cauldron: a quart of water purified by a unicorn, dirt from a dragon mountain, holly leaves (labeled WINGS OF BAT), and a can of Sprite that had been wrapped in paper labeled with runes to look more magical.

  “Come on, Even, change,” Odd said. “You’re the one who should be doing this, not me. This is your thing.”

  Closing her eyes, Even tried a third time. Again, nothing happened. What’s wrong with me? she wondered. She’d never had trouble with this before.

  The bell rang over the shop door.

  And the elf who had trapped her in cobwebs walked in.

  Even froze. Oh no, I can’t be a skunk in front of her! It had been humiliating when the elf thought Even wasn’t magical enough, but to now be caught with her magic failing to work right . . . That would be beyond mortifying. Gritting her sharp teeth, she concentrated so hard that her fur vibrated.

  She exhaled, panting. Still a skunk.

  Dad bowed to the customer. “High Priestess, welcome to our humble border store!”

  Oh great, Even thought. She’s not just an elf. She’s an important elf, witnessing my failure. How fun.

  “Indeed it is that.” The elf priestess sniffed. “You are the owner?”

  “My wife and I run the shop together,” Dad said. “And these are my daughters. It’s a family business.” He gestured to Odd and Even. His eyes widened as he saw that Even still looked the same. He managed to keep his smile plastered in place.

  Even tried a shrug, but it was lost in the fluffiness of her skunk fur.

  “Unusual offspring,” the elf said.

  “My eldest is typically not so furry,” Dad said with a forced laugh.

  Even wished she could hide as the elf fixed her with a pointed look. But then the elf seemed to dismiss her as inconsequential. Crossing the shop, she withdrew a gold-embroidered pouch from the folds of her voluminous robe, opened it, and lifted out an amulet on a heavy gold chain. She was careful to touch only the chain. Spinning, the amulet glittered in the shop’s Christmas lights. “You will assist with this.”

  Dad nodded. “Cursed?”

  “Thrice cursed.”

  Even wanted to ask what that meant. How could something be thrice cursed? Three different curses? Or cursed three different times so it was three times as powerful? And what kind of curse was it? Death? Sleep? Permanent skunk shape? she wondered. Am I cursed?

  Obviously not. She couldn’t be cursed, since she’d transformed herself. She was just having a little difficulty with her focus. Once the elf left, she was sure she’d be able to concentrate again. It was the presence of the high priestess that was throwing her off her game. She hadn’t liked being wrapped in cobwebs. Yes, that must be it.

  “Odd, the ingredients please,” Dad said.

  Odd shot a look at Even but obeyed Dad without a word. She poured the unicorn water into the cauldron and then added the dragon dirt, plus a few ordinary Mentos to add extra fizz.

  To the elf, Dad said, “You may wish to stand back. We will be creating a potent anti-magic potion. You might not like the sensation of being splashed by it.” That was pure showmanship. Even knew from experience that it wouldn’t do anything if it splashed her. It only affected magical items.

  The elf closed her robe and stepped backwards against a counter piled with comic books, trading cards, and collectible action figures. “What assurances can you give me that this will work?”

  “Every assurance,” Dad said cheerfully. “It’s never failed.”

  Odd crumpled up the dried holly leaves. Even wished she were helping. She usually did it with a lot more flair than Odd. You had to make a show of it!

  “I will require proof,” the elf said.

  Dad held up a hand. “Shh! This is the sensitive part.”

  With another look at Even, Odd held up the can of Sprite and pulled the tab.

  The elf tensed as Odd poured the soda into the cauldron. It bubbled and fizzed as it hit the Mentos. Eyes glued to the cauldron, Dad beckoned to the elf. “Lower the cursed item into the brew.”

  Carrying the amulet by the chain, the elf came forward.

  Everyone held their breath.

  Releasing the chain, the elf dropped the amulet. It landed in the soda concoction with a plop, and the elf jumped backwards to avoid the splash.

  “You have prepared the mixture correctly?” the elf demanded.

  “Absolutely,” Dad said.

  In truth, only one ingredient was necessary. It was the soda that did the trick. Soda negated magic. Not that it was super powerful—it didn’t affect magical beings—but it did an excellent job on stuff like cursed amulets, enchanted roses, and uncooperative spell books. They only mixed in all the other junk because Dad insisted that no one from the magic world would believe a non-magic substance could be effective on its own. Plus he liked the theatrics.

  I’m supposed to be helping, Even thought. She was the one who loved this, not Odd. She was the sister who liked all things magical.

  They waited for a minute with Dad holding up his hand for silence.

  Dad reached into the cauldron and pulled out the amulet with a flourish. “All done!”

  The elf stayed motionless, halfway across the shop. “I said I wanted proof. If you are so certain that it is safe, then give it to one of your daughters. Preferably the daughter who is not so frivolous as to greet customers as a rodent.”

  “Technically, a skunk is not a—” Even began.

  Odd nudged Even’s stomach with her foot, and Even fell quiet.

  Dad handed the amulet to Odd by the chain. Twisting the pendant in the twinkling lights, Odd studied it for a moment. Rising up onto her hind feet, Even tried to get a look at it. It was your standard magic amulet: ornate metal twisted around some kind of giant jewel, in this case a big, tacky yellow stone.

  “What’s the curse supposed to do?” Odd asked.

  “Makes your skin turn to scales, your hair fall from your head, your teeth blacken, and your blood boil,” the elf said. “My enemy wished for me to suffer an ugly death.”

  Even rubbed up against Odd’s ankles. “Let me do it. I can do this!” She knew Odd would far rather play with puppies than with magical artifacts that could potentially cause death. Of course, there wasn’t really any danger. Dad wo
uld never have involved them if there had been. But it was supposed to be Even’s job as a future hero to take such risks.

  “It must be tested on a being similar to me,” the elf said.

  But I’m more like you! Even thought. It’s my magic day! Except that her magic wasn’t working. Maybe the elf was right.

  “Proceed,” the elf said.

  Odd closed her hand over the jewel.

  And nothing happened.

  No scales. No blackened teeth. No boiled blood. She was exactly herself. Only Even noticed that her other hand was trembling slightly.

  The elf’s description of the curse scared her, Even thought, and I couldn’t help because I’m a stupid skunk. Concentrating, she tried again to transform, but she didn’t even feel the slightest tickle. What’s wrong with me?

  Satisfied with her proof, the elf paid Dad for the un-cursing, as well as for the plush panda she’d wanted the day before, and then swept out of the store. A faint smell of roses followed her.

  “Thank you for your help, Odd,” Dad said when she’d left. “Even, I’m surprised you didn’t want to participate. I thought you enjoyed these appointments.” His disappointment in her made Even want to cry—she’d wanted to be a part of it! He didn’t wait for her to explain, though. He scooped up the cauldron and carted it into the house to clean it in the sink.

  Even and Odd were left alone in the shop.

  “I feel ridiculous every time I do that,” Odd complained. “Why didn’t you change back?” She put away the ingredients, tossing the soda can into a recycling bin and closing the jars of herbs.

  “Sorry,” Even said miserably.

  “It wasn’t even funny when you first transformed. It’s really not funny now. Who were you trying to impress? Dad? The elf?”

  Sprawling on the floor, Even rested her chin on the tile. “Really sorry.”

  Odd stopped cleaning. “Even, is everything okay?”

  Even wanted to say, Yes, of course, everything’s great! It’s an even day! Everything was always great on an even day, and if it wasn’t, then magic could always cheer her up. But she couldn’t say that. In a very small voice, Even said, “I can’t do it.”