Welcome to Mimi's Charms & Enchantments - a New Age shop filled with magical merchandise and colorful customers. Cam couldn't ask for a better afterschool job.

When a shady man in gray slinks in one afternoon, Cam is thisclose to calling 911. To her relief, he hurries away, leaving behind the nauseating odor of his cologne and a curious spell he's dropped on the floor. But this spell is not your average hocus-pocus. It's ancient,
odd and promises Power Supreme - something Cam could definitely use to keep up her 3.9 grade point average.

But the spell requires more than what's stocked on Mimi's shelves. And acquiring each item will take some heavy teamwork. With the help of her best friend, Reade, and Zach, the high school's resident genius/nerd, Cam can't lose...unless the Gray man returns.

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Excerpt

Chapter One

I revved into the lot and parked my Corolla under the sign for my grandmother’s shop.

Mimi’s Charms & Enchantments
(Come in for a spell)

Believe me, working at Mimi’s is not your typical afterschool job. We’re a pair of normal goofballs living a paranormal life.

The tiny bell tinkled as I pushed through the door and breathed in that wonderful shop smell. Everything in Mimi’s soothes the senses—the sparkle of crystals, the aroma of flickering candles, and the soft whisper of windchimes when the air conditioner kicks on. It’s like a bubbly spa bath after midterm exams.

Mimi glanced up from her Victoria’s Secret catalogue. “There she is. How was school?”

I slung my plaid book bag onto the back counter. “Remember a couple of centuries ago when you were in high school?”

She chuffed. “Uh. Black Hole of Calcutta with chalkboards.”

“Well it’s white boards now.” I flung my arm over her shoulder and peered at the catalogue. “Push-up bras? Wow, you do believe in magic.”

“Hush, smarty-pants.” She pointed to a stick figure model in a strapless number. “I like this lilac one. It matches my hair.”

“Yeah…this week.”

Mimi’s hair color was on a seven-day rotation. And none of that boring blonde, brunette or auburn. She’s dyed it colors that would make Sherwin-Williams jealous. She claims it helps her stand out in a crowd. At four-foot eleven and one hundred pounds, she definitely needs the qualifier.

She hopped down from her stool and reached for her purse. “I’m going home where I can call in my order without all the ribbing.”

“Okay, but remember, they’re not called brassieres anymore.”

She rolled up the catalogue and swatted me. “Smarty-pants.”

Two steps later, the phone rang. She snapped up the receiver. “Mimi’s Charms and Enchantments.” A crease buckled her brow. “Hung up.”

“Mimi, why don’t you get caller ID?”

Her eyes blossomed. “And dull my psychic abilities? No way.”

“Well, your abilities need some serious tweaking.”

She locked up in the back while I settled in. When she returned, the phone rang a second time. “Mimi’s Charms and Enchantments.” A brief pause, followed by, “Up yours!” She jammed the phone back onto its charger.

“Jeez, Mimi, if that was a customer I hope you were instructing them on inserting magical suppositories.”

“Another hang-up. The least they could do is breathe heavy. More incentive for that push-up bra.”

“Sorry, there are no heavy breathers anymore. They’ve all discovered the internet.”

“Okay, kiddo, lock up tight,” she said as she scurried to the door.

“I always do.”

“Oh, and Cam…the push-up bra is for you.”

I grinned. “Smarty-pants.”

The overhead bell tinkled her goodbye.

I breathed in another lungful of that great shop smell as I scanned the room for new inventory. Nothing different. Just the usual shelves of books, candles, oils and powders. She mostly ordered things from suppliers—t-shirts, tarot cards, jewelry—but her biggest sellers are the magic potions she cooks up in the back closet. Lotions, shampoos, scented oils—all holding a secret spell to win love, gain money or just bring about some needed luck.

I reached in my bag, deciding to tackle my English Lit homework. I have to make an A this semester or lose my 3.9 GPA and my chances of getting into a good architectural school. Last I left off, Julius Caesar was in deep doo-doo. But before I could take a stab at him, the phone rang again. I hoped it wasn’t the hang-up artist.

“Mimi’s Charms & Enchantments.”

“Oh my god, Cam, I thought you’d never answer!”

Okay, so it was the hang-up artist, AKA my best friend, Reade. “That was you calling before?”

“Why is your cell off?” she complained.

“Oops. Sorry. I forgot to unmute it.” When I took it out, I saw her stream of texts that ran longer than the Nile. To say she seemed frantic is like saying Caesar suffered a paper cut.

“So what’s going on?”

“I need you to cook up a love spell for me ASAP.”

Here we go again. “Who’s it for?”

She sighed. “Troy. I know he’s into me, he just doesn’t know it yet.”

Troy. The new guy. Though he’d only been at Milford High for two months, he’d managed to friend most everyone except Reade.

“Business is slow”—I looked around the empty shop—“er, dead. Come in and we’ll figure out something.” Without a goodbye, she hung up for the third time that day.

I tried turning back to Julius and his major tragedies, but I truly believe that Shakespeare is the leading cause of brain tumors among teens. I think there’s even an FDA warning for that. And it was time to dump the guttered spell candles anyway.

Mimi charges five dollars apiece for these special jar candles that she tops off with her signature magical oil—which I think is one part patchouli and three parts Wesson. The customers write their wishes on a Post-it and tuck it under the candle, which burns continuously for three days. For privacy sake, Mimi has a special corner where the lit candles are kept. It’s against the rules to peek at the wishes underneath, so naturally I can never resist.

I grabbed the closest one, a white candle meant for cleansing. The wish read: Please get my mother-in-law out of my house. Yep, cleansing. I snapped open a trash bag and tossed the jar and Post-it in.

Then I picked up a pink one. Still warm. In the teeniest writing imaginable, someone had written, Jake loves me! about a million times. That should convince the cosmic forces.

Next was a green candle with no Post-It. Just a picture of a yacht sailing on a white-capped azure sea. The spell caster had even taken the time to Photoshop a picture of himself between two bikini-clad babes. If this guy’s spell works, I’ll have him cast one for me. I could use a Swiss bank account.

The last candle was red. Know what red stands for? Uh…yeah. I won’t say what was written underneath, but trust me, no long-term commitment necessary. Why didn’t she just put a personal on craigslist?

After trashing the old candles, I decided to straighten the shelves of new ones. I’d just lifted a pink one when the door burst open, nearly knocking the bell off its hook.

“Is that for me?” Reade said, rushing over and grabbing it up like she’d just won an Oscar. She must have flown over because her usually perfect blonde hair was a mass of wild frizz.

“Uh…sure.”

“Awesome! And I love this coral color! You think it’ll work?”

“Mimi’s spells always work.” Or so she’s been telling me since I was five. I handed Reade a Post-it.

She plucked it from my fingers then dug a pen out of her purse. “What should I write on it?”

I shrugged. “Something poetic, I guess.”

“Like…?”

I took a deep breath and stared off for inspiration. “Roses are red. Violets are blue. Troy will stick to me like crazy glue.”

She cut me the look. “You’re such a butt smurf.”

I grinned.

“Okay, I got it,” I said. “How about this? Oh, Troy! Wooden horses couldn’t drag us apart.”

“Wooden horses? Like rocking horses? What does that even mean?” I could see her brain circuits bordering on overload. Reade was allergic to the honor roll.

“Get it? Wooden horses? Troy?”

She blinked a few times. “How about, with every flicker of this flame, Troy’s heart will beat stronger for me?”

“Or that.”

She scribbled it with all her fancy loops and curlicues and headed for the candle corner.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” I called to her.

She did a quick pivot and cocked an eyebrow.

“Five dollars?”

“Take it out of my wallet,” she said, turning back to the wish corner.

I dug out five ones and slid them into the register.

Reade stood in the corner, hugging the jar candle with eyes closed and chin up. Her lips moved to silent words—like someone making a birthday wish. I imagined her blowing out all the other three-day candles. Cringe!

Still mumbling, she lit the tall wick. Then gently sealing the Post-it on the bottom, she carefully set the candle on the shelf, making sure the entire wish was covered. The only time I’d seen her do anything this delicately, nail polish was involved.

“All set!” she shouted, hurrying back toward me with a grin that swallowed her whole face.

“Troy won’t know what hit him.”

She giggled. “We’re going to make a great couple.”

I had to admit, they would look cute together.

“So what are you doing tonight?” she asked. She fingered some of the worry stones that sat in a bowl on the counter.

I pointed to my paperback of Julius Caesar. “If I don’t get back to the friends, Romans, and countrymen, I’ll be stuck doing homework.”

She held her hands up in surrender. “Okay, I get it. Later.” And with her love spell in place, she picked up her purse, brushed back her frizzies, and sauntered out the door.

I glanced back at the candle burning a hole in Troy’s heart. Oh well, Brutus and the assassins were waiting.

The rest of the afternoon flew. Only two customers came in, regulars, knowing on the spot what they needed and where to find it. I only had to ring them up.

Then about 5:45, a man in a gray business suit entered, eying the place like he planned to buy it. He carried a portfolio tucked under his arm.

What?

His suit looked tailored, pressed, and probably cost more than what Mimi’s shop brings in annually. I took a quick peek out the window where he’d parked his gray Lexus. I’m guessing he wasn’t here for a money charm.

“Good afternoon,” he said when he saw me.

“Hi,” I said back. I don’t do Good Afternoon.

He didn’t appear terribly threatening, but my built-in Cammy radar was screaming red alert. Why? Because he wasn’t the average customer? Because of the way he scanned the shop? Because he resembled a salesman at Satan’s Auto Underworld? Then it struck me. His eyes. His lips smiled, but his eyes didn’t.

I reached for my phone. 911 may need to hear from me.

“We’re closing soon,” I said.

“Then I’ll be brief.” He turned to the shelves near the front.

Taking his sweet time, he examined the book display. “Herbal Healing. Spells For All Occasions. Charmed, I’m Sure. Lots of volumes here on working magic.”

I peeked out at his car again. Doctor? Lawyer? Mafia? No. He was minus the pinky ring.

He then turned to the next shelf and plucked a quartz pendulum off its bracket. He held it up, looking toward me with an enlighten me expression on his face.

I enlightened him. “Pendulums are used for dowsing and divination.”

“Interesting.”

Gray Guy dallied, fondling every object.

“We close at six.” I nodded toward the grandfather clock.

“Yes, I know. I saw the sign as I entered.”

Ugh! Go away!

“What are these?” he asked, holding up two shiny brown orbs.

It took me a moment to focus. “Oh, those are buckeyes.”

“Like the horse chestnut?”

I shrugged. “You carry them in your pocket to attract money.”

He clicked them around in his palm, then dropped them back in their box. “You don’t see many of those around here.”

“Mimi sends off for them.” I glanced at the clock again, trying to think of a way to sneak over and move the hands forward. But that would mean getting close to the sleaze-meister.

He combed his way along the shelves, absorbing every single detail of every single item.

“Is there something in particular you’re looking for?”

“Just browsing,” he answered.

Aaaaaaaaaaargh!

I was pretending to pack up when he sauntered over. As he approached me, my fingers approached my cell. He laid his portfolio down on the counter, which also doubles as a display case, and peered down at the shelves inside.

I didn’t think anything, aside from a skunk, could overpower the smell of Mimi’s magic candles, but I got a whiff of his cologne. Bleh! It singed my nose and coated my tongue.

“Ah!” he said, in the tone of eureka! His eyes moved from left to right, taking in the vials of Mimi’s magic oils. These were her own mixtures.

He grinned like he’d just found a twenty lying on the ground. “Oils. Very popular in ancient Egypt. And look. There’s something for every need, including one to make rain.”

I squirmed a little. “Yeah…I’ve never used that one. I usually like it sunny out.” I glared at the clock. Come on, Grandpa. Get those hands moving!

He fixed his gaze on me and arched a brow. “Do you believe in magic?”

The shop went cold. The hairs on my arms bristled. Gray Guy hadn’t blinked once, yet his eyes weren’t watery or red. Mine on the other hand were twitching like a half-dead spider. I grabbed my phone. “I have to call my dad to see if he’s on his way. He picks me up every day.” The words all surfed on one long drawn breath.

“Isn’t that your car right out there?” He motioned over his shoulder at my ’97 Corolla.

CRAP!

“The battery’s dead,” I blurted. I was one rapid heartbeat away from grabbing my car key and jabbing him in the eye when the front door burst open in a recognizable fashion.

“It didn’t work!” Reade cried.

Saved by the overhead bell.

Gray Guy picked up his portfolio, straightened his jacket, and with a devilish grin, quietly bowed out through the door, still wide open from Reade’s theatrical entrance. I hurried over, slammed and locked it.

“Okay, I know it’s closing time and all,” Reade said, “but the spell isn’t working. I just saw Troy and he barely looked at me. ”

“Oh my God, Reade, did you see that?”

“How can I see anything, Cam?” She hugged her arms in despair. “I’m blinded by love. By passion. My feelings for Troy are embedded into my every fiber. I’m a bundle of emotions set to explode. See, you ask? What is there to see other than the fact that fate has dealt me the merciless challenge of winning the devotion of my soul mate?”

I snapped my fingers in front of her face. “Did you see the guy who just left?”

Her eyebrows dipped. “That old guy with the Lexus?”

“Yeah. Didn’t he strike you as…” I couldn’t put my finger on the right word.

“As what?”

“Uh…menacing?”

Reade shrugged. “Was he twirling his mustache?”