Текст книги "Rhymes with Witches"

Автор книги: Lauren Myracle

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

Mr. Van Housen frowned. “Yes. All right. Well, Camilla, you can rest assured that the matter will be taken care of.”

“Will there be a hearing?” Camilla demanded. “Will he be expelled?”

“The matter will be taken care of appropriately,” Mr. Van Housen said, with a look that shut Camilla up. “I appreciate your bringing this to my attention.”

I scurried out of his office. When Camilla came out two seconds later, her face was splotchy. She saw me and blanked her expression, but not before I’d seen what was underneath. She ducked her head and hurried past.

At the other end of the hall, the cheerleading results were posted on the community bulletin board. I took a breath and headed over.

“Oh my god!” I heard Tina Burston exclaim. She clapped, and her crutches fell to the floor. “It’s a dream come true!”

Two other girls squealed and hugged.

“Where’s Kim?” one of them said. “We have to find her. Kim! Kim! You made it!”

I pushed my way through the crowd and scanned the list. Kim, Stacy, Rebecca, Tina, and … Shelly Clarkson.

Oh. Right. It wasn’t as if I were surprised, but just for a moment, I’d thought maybe.

I found Alicia at her locker.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she muttered. Her eyes were rimmed with red.

“Okay,” I said.

“Anyway, who was I fooling? I didn’t even want to be a cheerleader. Cheerleaders just exist to make other people feel bad. Plus, they’re stupid.”

“Okay.”

She slammed her locker and headed down the hall. I walked beside her. At the door to her classroom, she stopped. She stubbed her pink-and-gray All-Star against the hall carpet.

“Rae’s singing karaoke tonight,” she said. “Want to go?”

“Sure,” I said.

She clamped her lips together. She nodded once, then went into the room.

Mary Bryan trapped me after French. “We need to talk,” she said.

Sweat popped out in my armpits. “I’m sorry I was such a dork at Kyle’s party,” I said. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you guys.”

“What are you talking about?” Mary Bryan asked. “You didn’t embarrass us.”

“But I was such a loser.”

“Well …” She shrugged. “I had a great time. So did Keisha and Bitsy.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. So don’t worry about it.” She ushered me down the hall and out the back door of the building. “There’s Bitsy. Let’s go.”

“Huh? Go where?”

Mary Bryan tugged me across the parking lot. She climbed into the backseat of Bitsy’s car and scooted over to make room for me. Keisha was already in the front.

“But … it’s sixth period,” I said.

“So?” Bitsy said.

“So I’m supposed to be in LIFE.”

She looked at me blankly, and I said, “Learning Inspiration from Empathy. LIFE. Today we’re taking a field trip to the zoo, to talk to an expert on feral cats.”

“Why?”

“So we can learn more about the cats on campus. So we can learn to coexist, and help other people to—”

“I think you should pass,” Bitsy said. “I’m sure the cats will understand.”

I glanced back at the building. Then I squeezed into the car. We followed the winding campus road that led to the back gate, but no one explained what was going on. We left the school grounds, and Bitsy selected a song on her iPod.

“Uh … where are we going?” I asked over the music.

“My place,” Bitsy said.

“Why?”

“Why do you think?”

A shred of hope sliced through me. Was it possible I was still being considered?

Idiot, idiot, idiot, I scolded myself. Don’t even go there. I didn’t ask any more questions.

The neighborhood Bitsy lived in was even ritzier than Kyle Kelley’s, and her house was unnervingly gorgeous, with vaulted ceilings and gleaming hardwood floors. Mary Bryan disappeared into the kitchen and returned with Diet Cokes, pitas, and hummus. I sat on a white leather sofa across from the others, and I crossed and recrossed my legs. On the glass coffee table sat an ornately painted vase. I could hear the ticking of a clock.

“We brought you here to tell you that we’re interested in you,” Keisha said at last.

“Not to be blunt, but we don’t have much choice,” Bitsy said. Keisha shot her a look of warning, and she added, “Of course we adore you, it goes without saying.”

“Oh yeah?” I said. I tried to form my mouth into a smile.

“It’s true,” Mary Bryan said. “Out of all the candidates, you’re our top pick. It was unanimous.”

“Candidates?” I said.

“Chelsea Campion had potential,” Mary Bryan said, “but her dad’s this Hollywood mogul type, so she’s got all sorts of contacts already. She doesn’t need us.”

“She certainly needs something,” Bitsy said. “Her bum’s as big as a bloody buffalo’s.”

“And we almost asked Lynn Seigler,” Mary Bryan continued, “but we decided she’s too pretty. She looks like a model, practically.”

She continued listing girls—as well as why they were axed—and my stomach folded in on itself. Too pretty, too well connected, too smart without being nerdy … All of these descriptions sounded like good things. I didn’t understand what any of it meant.

“Carrie Beale came this close,” Mary Bryan said, holding her finger an inch from her thumb. “But then we were like, Ohhh. She doesn’t mind being a free agent. Which made us realize that she wouldn’t want it bad enough.”

“Want what?” I said.

“Do you?” Keisha asked. “Even after Kyle’s party?”

“What, to be a Bitch?” I tried to play it cool, but my words tumbled over themselves. “Yes. God, yes!”

“Enough to do whatever it takes?” Keisha pressed.

“Well, sure,” I said. They offered a sacrifice, and the sacrifice was accepted, came a voice in my head. I faltered. “I mean, I think so … but what do you mean?”

Mary Bryan got up from her sofa and moved to sit by me. “Don’t worry, Jane. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Anyway, we’re not talking, like, bank robberies or kidnapping innocent children.”

“But we’re not talking a new hairstyle or a cute new pair of boots, either,” Keisha said. “Jane’s entire life would change. She needs to know that.”

Mary Bryan made a face, like Don’t mind her, she’s being such a grown-up.

Bitsy put down her Diet Coke. “I think you’re both forgetting the point of being a Bitch, which is to dump your grotty old life and start over again. So of course Jane’s life would change. That’s what it’s all about.” She stood and walked to the entertainment center, where she opened a wooden door to reveal a large-screen TV. She pivoted to face us. “Get comfy, dearies. I think it’s time for our video presentation.”

The video was of Mary Bryan, only I don’t think Mary Bryan knew it was coming, because she turned pale when the images flickered onto the screen. “Oh my god,” she kept saying. “Oh my god.”

It was pretty creepy. Someone (Stuart Hill?) had videoed a rafting party that I guess happened last fall, because the Bitsy in the tape had a short, flippy haircut that now had grown out. She was there along with Keisha and a bunch of other kids, all piled onto big rubber rafts stocked with coolers. One of the rafts had a keg floating along behind it, tied to the raft so it would stay cool in the river.

Bitsy was wearing a turquoise bikini, and she looked fantastic. Keisha was wearing a black one-piece, and she looked fantastic. They both laughed and sipped their drinks while the other kids drooled all over them. Just like at Kyle’s party. A third fantastic-looking girl was there, too, and after a moment of confusion I deduced that she was last year’s senior Bitch, now graduated and out in the real world. She was stretched out on the rim of the main raft, wearing cut-offs and a red halter. While I watched, a guy dipped his fingers into his cup and sprinkled beer on her tummy. She shrieked and swatted him, and the guy turned about a hundred shades of happy.

The camera jerked around a lot, so it was hard to see everything. Mainly Stuart stayed focused on Keisha, Bitsy, and the red halter girl, but occasionally he’d pan in on a guy belting out a burp or drumming his chest like Tarzan.

And every so often there’d be a glimpse of Mary Bryan.

It made my heart hurt to see her. She had on a hot pink one-piece made to look like leather, and it was cut too high on the legs and too low in front. Physically I guess she looked pretty much the same as she does now, only it didn’t seem that way at all. Part of it was how she held herself, with her stomach held in super tight and her chest sticking out. And part of it was the way she clutched her Styrofoam cup and ripped off the top in little bits. But mostly it was her expression: bright, bright smile even though no one was talking to her. Desperate, shiny eyes.

My thighs felt heavy. Was that how I came across at Kyle’s party?

On the tape, Mary Bryan adjusted her bathing suit. She stood in the raft and wobbled toward a junior named Chase Mattingly, then dropped down beside him. Her drink sloshed onto his leg. He glanced at her, annoyed, but kept talking to his buddy Steve. Several times Mary Bryan opened her mouth to speak, but each time she chickened out. Finally she leaned forward so that her breasts practically fell out of her suit.

“Um, you’re on the soccer team, right?” she asked.

Chase broke off in the middle of his sentence. “Yeah. Why?”

“Just … you’re really good,” Mary Bryan said. “That was terrific how you scored all those goals last weekend.”

“Thanks,” he said. He noticed her cleavage—it was pretty impossible not to—and with some sort of guy code, he got Steve to notice, too. “What’s your name again?”

“Mary Bryan,” she said.

Chase draped his arm around her shoulders. Stuart, who was getting it on film, zoomed in close. To someone else he said, “Hey, bro, check out the titties!” The Mary Bryan on the raft couldn’t hear, but the four of us at Bitsy’s could.

“Tell you what,” Chase said, all pals-y and smooth. “Find me at the picnic area, after we get off the river, and I’ll go over the highlights with you. Sound good?”

Mary Bryan’s face lit up, and for a second, she looked like the Mary Bryan I knew now. “Okay. Sure!”

The camera jiggled and panned back to the other raft. Keisha and Bitsy were squealing and drawing up their legs while two guys wrestled each other for the tap of the keg. Drops of beer landed on the camera lens.

“Geronimo!” one of the two yelled as he pushed the other overboard.

“Hold on, Mike,” Stuart called. “The Stu-Man is on the way!”

The image shook, followed by a blip of static. The screen went blank.

“That was my tryout,” Mary Bryan said after what seemed like hours. She didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. “I didn’t … I had no idea …”

Keisha studied the sofa cushion. Bitsy gazed at Mary Bryan. Her expression was unreadable.

Mary Bryan laughed shakily. “Can we burn it, please?”

Bitsy strolled behind her and stroked her hair. “Don’t be a ninny. How else would we prove how far you’ve come?”

“Why would we need to?” Mary Bryan said. “I’m serious. Can we please burn it?”

“We should certainly burn that bathing suit,” Bitsy said. “Wretched.”

Keisha stayed serious. “Tell Jane the rest.”

Mary Bryan’s cheeks went from red to redder. “Oh, let’s not. I mean, god. She probably already hates me.” She turned to me. “You do, don’t you?”

“No,” I said. “Of course not!” I wanted to hug her. I wanted to go back in time and make the rafting trip go away.

“If you don’t, I will,” Bitsy said.

Mary Bryan looked like she might cry.

“Actually, it’s okay,” I offered. “Whatever it is, you don’t—”

“Just get it over with,” Keisha said.

Mary Bryan looped a strand of hair around her finger. “It was an accident. I’d had too much to drink.” She drew her knees to her chest. “I’d really rather not …”

“She and Chase had sex on top of a picnic table,” Bitsy said. “Lovely, yes?”

I saw it in my mind—Mary Bryan, Chase, the picnic table—and I wished I hadn’t.

“We weren’t, like, right out in the middle of everyone,” Mary Bryan said. “It wasn’t like everyone could see.”

I nodded. I gave her my best imitation of a smile.

“I’d had too much to drink, that’s all. And it was dark. And honestly, I didn’t even …”

“We all make mistakes,” Keisha said.

“That’s right,” Mary Bryan said.

“And we learn from those mistakes and become better people,” Bitsy said in a singsong voice. She snorted. “Either that or we get fixed, which is infinitely more effective.”

“Huh?” I said.

“Nothing,” Keisha said. She shot Bitsy a look.

“We are going to tell her, aren’t we?” Bitsy asked. “She’s this year’s lucky winner, after all.”

I knew something was going on between them. It’s not as if my brain passed over it. And it’s not as if I passed over the whole Mary Bryan thing, either. But I latched onto the phrase “this year’s lucky winner,” and my blood pulsed faster. I had the brief thought of asking about Sandy—Had they heard of her? What did they know?—but I knew I wouldn’t. It would complicate things unnecessarily.

Keisha stood up and began collecting Diet Coke cans. “Our decision’s not final until tomorrow.” She glanced briefly at me. Almost as if she were apologizing, she said, “We had to meet with you one last time. You understand.”

“Sure,” I said. “Okay.”

“So we’ll let you know.”

“Great. Sounds good.”

I hesitated, then got to my feet and helped clean up. As I was collecting Diet Coke cans, Mary Bryan approached me.

“I’m not that girl anymore,” she said.

“I know,” I said, because I got it. Mary Bryan had changed, and I wanted to, too.

Bitsy took me home, with Mary Bryan and Keisha in tow. We stopped at Steak and Shake for dinner, which surprised me, but I didn’t complain. A few other kids from school were there, too. Sukie Karing. Josh Barnett. I tried to act nonchalant, but I was puffed with pride that I was the one entering with Keisha, Mary Bryan, and Bitsy. Sitting at their table. Sharing their conversation.

“Double cheeseburger, fries, and a Sprite,” Bitsy said when our waitress approached. “No, strike that. Chocolate shake.”

“Whipped cream?” the waitress asked.

“Hell yeah,” Bitsy said. She looked at the rest of us. “What? A girl’s got to eat.”

“Right, which is why your fridge is stocked with pita bread and Diet Coke,” Mary Bryan said. I could have been wrong, but it seemed like a bit of a payback.

“Hey, that’s my mum’s food,” Bitsy said.

Mary Bryan made a face. “Hate pita bread.”

“So shove it up your ass,” Bitsy suggested.

“The rest of you know what you want?” the waitress asked.

We ordered. As soon as the waitress left, Sukie Karing slid out of her booth and came over to ours. Her eyes lit briefly on me—curious, I could tell—but it was Keisha she directed her comments toward.

“Oh my god. Did you hear? About Mr. Cohen?”

Keisha lifted her head.

“What happened?” Mary Bryan asked.

Sukie gripped the edge of the table. “He might have rabies.”

“What in bloody hell are you talking about?” Bitsy said.

Now Sukie focused on Bitsy, almost as if she’d been waiting for permission. “He got scratched by one of those cats. You know, at school? It was curled up under his jacket on a sofa in the teacher’s lounge. He reached for his jacket to put it on, and the cat went nuts and attacked him. I’m not kidding.”

“You were there, were you?” Bitsy said. “You saw it with your own two eyes?”

“No, but everyone’s talking about it. He got scratched all down one arm. He had to go to the hospital.”

“I don’t think you can get rabies from a cat scratch,” Mary Bryan said.

“Well, maybe not rabies,” Sukie said. “But it’s like, those cats are a total menace. What if it had been a student who got scratched?” She leaned forward and spaced out her words. “Total. Law. Suit. City.”

“Lawsuit city,” Bitsy repeated. She shared a glance with Keisha. “Hmm.”

“One chocolate shake, two Sprites, one water,” our waitress said. “Now, who had the water?”

Sukie stepped to the side, edged out by the tray. “Anyway, it’s just really terrible, that’s all. Poor Mr. Cohen.”

Bitsy accepted her shake and took a sip. She smiled up at the waitress and said, “Do you think I could have an extra cherry? If it’s not too much trouble.”

“I’ll bring you a whole cupful,” the waitress said. “How’s that sound?”

“Marvelous,” Bitsy said.

Sukie nibbled at her fingernail. “Well. I guess I better go back. I just wanted to let you know.”

“Right, then,” Bitsy said. “Thanks for the chat.”

“Oh, sure. No problem. All right, well …” She raised her hand. “Bye!”

“Ta!” Bitsy called. She waited until Sukie was gone, then shook her head. “Ah, Sukie.”

Mary Bryan giggled.

I fiddled with my straw. “I’ve gotten scratched by a cat millions of times,” I said, “and I’ve never gone to the hospital.”

“Bingo,” Bitsy said. “And that, luv, is one of the many reasons we picked you and not her.”

“Huh?” I said.

Bitsy winked, and I did the ha-ha, very funny thing. A tingling warmth rose inside me.

The waitress returned with a plastic condiment cup filled with cherries. Bitsy selected the shiniest one and popped it in her mouth.

Three messages waited for me at home, all from Alicia. “Jane, pick up,” came the first one. “We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.” Then came, “Jane! Where are you! Karaoke, remember?” And finally, “You better not have blown me off. I mean it. We’ll swing by your house just in case—you better be there!”

I leaned against the counter. Crap. Guilt knuckled down inside me, along with frustration at the unfairness of it. I hadn’t blown her off. I’d honestly forgotten we had plans. But I knew she’d be pissed regardless.

Ah, shit.

I picked up the phone, knowing it would only be worse if I left it until tomorrow. Plus, if I called her now, she wouldn’t be there. She’d still be at the karaoke bar, nursing a Coke and her indignation.

“Hey, Alicia, it’s me,” I said after the beep. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I swear. I fell asleep in the library, can you believe it? I’m a total loser, I know. So anyway, hope you had a great time. See you tomorrow!”

I still had the taste of french fries in my mouth. It was making me thirsty.

The next day I made a point of getting to my locker way early so that I wouldn’t run into Alicia, and I managed to dodge her between classes as well. After French, I met up with the Bitches. Me and Mary Bryan and Keisha and Bitsy. They didn’t say anything to me, just, “Right, let’s go.” When we got to Bitsy’s, it was like total déjà-vu. Same empty house, same white sofas. Although this time we had Perrier and soy nuts, so it wasn’t completely the same after all.

I sat down on one sofa, and the three of them sat across from me on the other. I twisted my fingers in my lap.

“You know why you’re here,” Keisha said.

I did, but I wasn’t so dumb as to say it out loud.

“We’re very careful whom we pick to join us,” she said, “and we’re impressed with your qualifications.” She ticked off points. “You’re a freshman. That’s essential, of course. You’re not in any remedial classes. Your looks meet the minimum requirements.”

“Which is to say you’re not a dog,” Bitsy said. She winked.

“But mainly, we like your attitude,” Keisha said. “You appreciate what we represent, and we know you’ll make us proud. Am I right?”

“Um, yeah,” I said.

“Because we’ll be investing an enormous amount of energy in you, Jane. You’ll have to work hard to be worth it.”

I felt silly, but I nodded anyway. “I will. I promise.”

Bitsy leaned forward. “And everything we tell you remains secret. Do you understand?”

“Of course.”

She arched her eyebrows. “Once you’re in, you’re in. It’s a forever kind of thing, luv. So think about it before you give your answer, because you better be one-hundred-percent sure.”

I gazed at their faces. They all looked so serious. Mary Bryan smiled encouragingly, but she was gripping her Perrier harder than she needed to. For no good reason I thought of cats. Of black magic and girls who were dead. Fear twanged in my stomach, and I had an out-of-body sensation of standing over a pit, about to fall in.

Don’t you dare, I told myself. Don’t you dare wimp out now.

“I want in,” I said. “I want to be a Bitch.”

Time stopped. And when nothing happened, I had a moment of panic. Is that it? I thought. What happens next?

Keisha picked up her backpack from the floor and withdrew a small box. She walked to my sofa and stood in front of me. I stood, too.

“In that case, we ask you to be one of us,” Keisha said. “Do you accept our invitation?”

Hokey, whispered a voice inside me, but I embraced it, because hokey was better by far than the other.

“I do.”

“And do you swear to keep all our proceedings secret and confidential, or face the consequences?”

“I do.”

She opened the box and took out a key. It was dull with tarnish. She placed it in my palm and folded my fingers over it.

“This is your key,” she said. She gave me a meaningful look, but I didn’t know what the meaning was.

“Okaaay,” I said. I felt its weight and wanted to open my hand and look at it. But I didn’t know if I was allowed.

Keisha’s expression softened. “Congratulations.”

For no reason, my eyes filled with tears.

“Oh no,” Mary Bryan said, “now you’re going to get me going, too!” She jumped up and hugged me. “This is so awesome, Jane! You’re one of us!”

“For real?” My lips wobbled into a grin.

Bitsy unfolded herself from the sofa. She strolled to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of champagne. She popped the cork, and foam bubbled out.

“Cheers,” she said. “You’re officially a Bitch.”