Bloodstone Read Online Free PDF Page B

actually feel like a witch.
    Geez, I hoped not.
    Ivy looked surprised. “But I’ve heard things about your talent when I was looking for you. People around here think you’re a pretty powerful witch.”
    The thought of Ivy wandering around town talking to strangers made me shudder. Amethyst had more fruit loops than a box of Kellogg’s. I was pretty sure the town mascot was officially a Whackadoodle.
    “Sweetie, people around here also think that the Cubs will win the World Series and that Old Style is the elixir of the Gods. Don’t believe everything you hear.”
    Or see, for that matter.
    “And don’t talk to strangers,” I added. Seemed like the situation called for it.
    Chance came into the kitchen with two brown paper bags. He set them on the counter while I hunted for plates and napkins.
    Behind me, Ivy said, “I got this.”
    She tossed two twenty dollar bills on the table and ripped open the first bag.
    Chance and I exchanged a look.
    I said, “Ivy, where is all this money coming from?”
    She shrugged, pulled a bulging white carton from the bag. Steam poured from the lid as lo mein noodles spilled over the sides.
    “I told you. Mom left me some money.”
    How much money did she leave her? I set the plates on the counter and went for some silverware. It was none of my business, but now that she was in my care, I wondered if perhaps it was dangerous for a teenager to have too much cash on her. Then again, that might have been the last of it.
    “Put your money away, Ivy,” Chance said.
    “It’s okay, I want to chip in,” she said.
    The ten bucks she laid on the bar earlier was in my pocket. I had flipped Monique my own money and tried to return Ivy’s to her, but she argued with me the entire time it took for Chance to arrive to pick us up, so I let it go. I figured I would sneak it into her backpack when she wasn’t looking.
    Sometimes you have to pick your battles. I shook my head at Chance and he let the money sit there.
    The second bag was screaming my name. I reached for the beef with broccoli and set it on a plate. We gathered around the pub table, the three of us exchanging sauces and food. We made small talk as we ate and Ivy offered me an egg roll.
    It was perfectly crunchy with just a hint of oil. I dabbed a napkin around it and bit in, listening to Ivy and Chance talk about the Wii match they would have over the weekend. Billiards, tennis, Mario, and a game called Black Ops, which I was about to protest until I bit into something metallic.
    I grabbed a napkin and spit into it.
    Ivy made a face. “Ew, that’s vile, Stacy.”
    “Tell me about it,” Chance said. Then he looked at my face. “You okay?”
    “That didn’t taste right.” I opened the napkin, examining the contents.
    There, between the cabbage and the carrots, was a penny.
    I dumped the egg roll onto my plate and walked to the garbage. My thumb on the penny, I slid the contents of the plate into the trash and headed for the sink.
    When I didn’t make a fuss about tasting the head of our sixteenth president, Ivy knew something was up.
    Chance folded himself into the refrigerator, carefully lining up the leftover cartons and avoiding eye contact while I offered to take the garbage out.
    “What’s with the weirdness all of a sudden?” Ivy asked.
    No one answered her.
    “Fine! Don’t tell me, but you know I’ll find out sooner or later.” She stomped into the living room and turned on the television.
    Later, please. Much later.
    Outside, I took the penny from where I had stashed it and looked at the date.
    Just as I feared.
    The year Ivy was born. Or at least the year she says she was born. Or the year she was told she was born.
    Birdie taught me from an early age that pennies were sent from our spirit guides. According to her, those who passed on left us little messages in the shape of a molded piece of copper. Not just me, but everyone. Mostly, the message simply said, “Hi, I’m doing fine. Thinking of you.”
    But