Accidentally Evil (11 page)

Twenty

Y
ou're trying to tell me
you
are going to be the next High Priestess?” Dru asks. She's the only one in the room who can speak.

The other two look through me, like they don't even see me.

I wave my arms back and forth in front of their faces. “Jo, Ivy.”

Their eyes attempt to focus, and then all three of them break into a series of nonstop questions.

I hold up my hands to stop them. “I'm not done.”

“There's more? How can there be more? I mean, you're going to be the . . . the High Priestess! Your picture will be in the hallway like Dannabelle's!” Ivy's out of breath by the time she finishes.

“It's not that easy,” I tell her.

“Meaning?” asks Jo.

I launch into a regurgitation of what Miss A told me. With each new piece of information, they become more surprised, more alarmed, which only makes me feel more panicked.

Pull it together, Hallie.

Watching my friends, I realize I
have
to be a rock. I have to make them believe I'm not worried. Because I can't handle them freaked out.

“I need you to be my eyes and ears,” I tell them. “I bet Kendall is being told tonight too. And if she thinks she has to beat me to get to the top, she'll come at me with everything she has.”

They all agree, of course, and I trust them. I trust them more than I've ever trusted any other friends.

“When do you get to become High Priestess?” Dru asks.

“
If
I become High Priestess, it will be years after my training at Dowling, when I'm twenty-one.”

“And until then you and Kendall are at war?” Ivy asks.

“Looks that way,” I say. “It's not like Dowling can't survive without a High Priestess. The last one died four years ago.”

“Well, I say you just keep doing what you're doing and try not to think about it. You know?” Jo is so sweet, I want to hug her. But she doesn't know my entire history with Kendall. Ignoring Kendall is a virtual impossibility. But I don't say so.

“You just make sure you keep your ears open, Jo,” I tell her.

Ivy sticks her hand into the middle of our little circle. “We're all in this with you, Hallie.”

Dru and Jo stack their hands on top of Ivy's. I'm afraid to talk, because talking might make me cry, and there's no crying in witchcraft, according to Miss A.

“All in,” Dru says.

“All in,” Jo echoes.

I put my hand on top of theirs and seal the pact. “All in.”

If I thought I was going to live my life like normal, that no one would know what Miss A told me, I was wrong. So, so wrong.

When I enter the dining room for breakfast the following morning, the room is half full, as usual. The same girls are in there that we see every morning. But instead of girls yawning with their heads on the table or chat
ting with each other, everyone is staring at me. Some of them can't meet my eye but are whispering behind their hands. And I can tell that it is the oh-my-gosh-did-you-hear-about-Hallie kind of whispering. You'd think they'd be more interested in the celebration where they can hang out with boys than in me. And my power. And my future. I swallow the anxiety that is stuck in my throat, pull my shoulders back, and walk into the room as if I don't notice.

I quickly grab a plate, some fruit, and my favorite yogurt. I keep my face down and don't make eye contact with anyone until I get to our table.

“Good grief, is that what my life is going to be like?” I look at the girls at our table—my friends. They wear the same look that tells me they don't know what to say. If I thought I was living under a microscope before, I didn't know how bad it could be.

“It'll get better,” Ivy says. “The new will wear off and things will go back to normal.”

“Probably not, but thanks for trying,” I tell her. “How did everyone find out?”

“Kendall and Zena, I'm sure.”

I look at Ivy. “You're probably right. Knowing Kendall,
she's trying to get as many friends in her corner as possible.”

Jo laughs. “Really? Who would believe a word she said? She's a liar, through and through. There's no changing that.”

“I hear what you're saying, but I've known her my entire life. You'd be surprised how many will follow her.”

“Well, that doesn't affect you at all,” Dru says. “Remember your plan? Keep doing what you're doing. Learn. Be the best witch you can be. That's what will win this in the end.”

“That's the thing. Do I even
want
to be High Priestess?”

Dru drops her fork onto the plate. The clang of silver on porcelain echoes off the walls. She looks at Ivy. “Is she for real?”

Jo shrugs. “I don't know, Dru. I think I see her point. It's a lot of pressure. And to get there, she has to fight Kendall for the next five years.”

Ivy wipes her mouth, places her napkin on the table. She stacks her two plates, then the silverware on top. One big breath, then she looks at me. “Hallie, I'm your best friend. I will always love you. But if you bail out of this and leave us with Kendall as our leader, I will be
forced to hate you. Why would you do that to us? To yourself? Are you really considering letting Kendall be the official boss of you? Forever?”

I look at my friends, all three of whom are now scared speechless at the prospect of having Kendall as the leader of the coven.

“Hallie, even if you don't want to do it for you, please do it for us. I'm begging you.”

Dru leans closer, her big black eyes searching mine for a sign of hope. “Think about it. Do you want to be under Kendall's control again?”

I don't have to answer them. They know I'm going to fight it, because the only thing I hate more than Kendall is losing to Kendall.

The bell rings, and the cafeteria empties. I'm not quite finished eating yet, so I tell Ivy I'll catch up with her. I walk to the trash can slowly, popping the last of the grapes into my mouth. I dump my tray except for my yogurt and spoon. I can eat that on the way to class.

“Have a nice day, Hallie.”

I smile at the cook behind the counter. It's the first time she's spoken to me, and I wonder why she'd start today. Is it possible even the cooks know?

My feet are in fast-forward when I turn around and slam right into Kendall. We both lose our balance and have to catch the wall to keep from falling.

“Of course it's you,” Kendall says. “Who else?”

I know this is my chance to say something, but my mind is blank. It's always blank when I'm face-to-face with Kendall. And I'm supposed to be the High ­Priestess? Yeah, right.

Zena steps forward, pushing me out of the way with the backpack on her shoulder. “What are you doing here without all your little cronies?”

“Guess they've already figured out where the winning side is,” Kendall says. Her laugh is mean, hateful, and entirely too familiar.

Zena grabs an apple from the buffet. “You know you're in way over your head, right?”

“According to who?”

Zena looks at Kendall like she doesn't understand what I'm saying. “Is she serious?”

Kendall rolls her eyes. “You have no idea how dense she can be.”

“You can at least wait and talk about me after I leave,” I tell Kendall. I step around her to get out and get to
class. On my best day I break even with Kendall. And when it's two to one, I'm totally outnumbered.

I walk a couple of steps, grateful to put them behind me.

But. Wait. If I'm going to be the High Priestess, if I have any hope of being like Dannabelle, I have to start now. I have to be able to stand up for myself before I can take care of others.

I stand in the dining room, halfway between the buffet and the door to the hallway, at war with myself.

No one says I have to deal with Kendall today. I can save that for a day when I have some backup.

Or I can start right now. I can start being the person I was destined to be. A leader.

I toss the uneaten yogurt into the trash can and walk back to the buffet. Zena and Kendall are picking over the fruit and Danish left on the buffet. They're talking about me. Fury builds inside me as I listen to Kendall say all the things she's always said about me.

“She's useless. Everything she does is just . . . stupid. I'm telling you, this whole ‘competition' is going to be a joke.”

I step closer to the pair, and they turn around, surprised to see me but not embarrassed to be caught
talking about me. That only fuels my anger more.

“Forget something?” Kendall asks, like she's happy to see me, like we aren't mortal enemies.

I stand strong, will my knees to stop shaking. And I give Kendall a smile.

“I did, actually. I forgot to tell you how much you bother me. For years I've kept quiet while you put me down. Shame on you for calling yourself a friend. And shame on you for hurting all the other girls you've ever met, just to fool yourself into believing you're better than everyone else.” I take a giant step out of the buffet line and walk through the dining room. I'm going to be late for class, but I won't be as late as Kendall, who's still trying to figure out what just happened.

Twenty-One

I
'd like to say that my little rant made a difference in the way Kendall acts, but it hasn't. If anything, it has made her treatment of my friends and me even worse. But something changed inside me when I stood up to her. I accepted that I want to be the High Priestess and I'm willing to fight for it.

I don't have time to deal with her right now, anyway. We've been busy preparing for the Third Harvest celebration. We have plenty of good painters to draw the tattoos onto people while everyone else takes turns working the booth. Turns out, I'm not too bad at painting tattoos. I don't have Jo's or Missy's creativity, but I can draw what they make up. After nonstop practice, mine look almost as good as Jo's.

Once our booth is made, we help other groups set up booths, decorate the grounds, line up chairs just right near the stage, and gather supplies. There's a charge of excitement at Dowling, and time slows to a crawl as we wait for the big day to arrive.

But the day finally comes. And it is a beautiful evening. Nice breeze. Full moon. I wonder if any of the witches at Dowling can control the weather.

We are allowed to wear regular clothes, so I'm in my favorite lace skirt and a red shirt. No glasses (thank you, Kendall). And Lady Rose's hair clip to add some bling.

When we walk out Dowling's front door, I feel like I'm in a different world. The grounds in front of Dowling have been transformed. Covered booths line the sidewalks. Benches and chairs are scattered in groups on the lawn. Picnic tables are set up near the garden, where food will be served. Candles are everywhere. Some are in holders that have been nailed into tree trunks, and some are at tables. Even more candles hang from the tree limbs. Custodians walk from candle to candle to light each one. Slowly the glow of candlelight warms the area for the celebration.

Jo has painted the design on my wrist, and I wish I could keep it there forever. It's the infinity sign made
with a snake. It's said to symbolize that my gifts never end. They're always changing and growing as I learn.

I'm putting up the sign that shows all the tattoos we can do, when I hear the first rumble of buses driving through the Dowling gates.

I start to shake, and I have to tell myself to chill out. When the bus comes into view and we can see it's a Riley bus, Ivy is next to me, and she turns me to face her. She tries to smooth my hair down. “Enough,” I tell her, pushing her hands away. “He'll see you.”

I stand at the booth's entrance with the other girls and greet the boys as they get off the bus and begin walking around. I do my best to look for Cody without actually looking like I'm looking for him. Kendall and Zena ­haven't been seen all day, but I know they'll be here. They're just waiting to make their entrance.

A tall guy, whose nametag reads
Victor
, is our first customer. He has a misty gray aura. So he's materialistic and selfish. Maybe he should meet Kendall.

He asks me to paint the design of his gift on his upper arm. He explains that he is telekinetic, so I carefully paint the thin circles like a spring and a lightning bolt in the center.

“Can you show me how it works?” I ask him.

“What do you mean?” he asks. He's sitting so close to me, I can smell his breath, a mixture of breath spray and Fritos. Blech.

“I mean, can you do it? Like . . .” I look around and point to the candle sitting on the counter of our booth. “Move that candle?”

Victor looks around, nervous. “I don't know.”

“Never mind,” I say. “It's okay. I didn't realize you hadn't really mastered it yet.”

He pulls back from me, eyes dark and challenging. “That has nothing to do with it.”

He looks at the candle, and it slides to the other side of the counter.

The girls who see it clap, and one of them saves the glass candle holder from shattering against the side of the booth.

“Not too bad,” I say. I go back to work on his design.

Until I hear Cody's voice.

“Vic, did I just see you move that candle?”

Vic looks up and I look up, and there he is.

My stomach is like a balloon just waiting to be popped. Tight. Tense.

He's cuter than I remember. His hair's longer, he's tanner, and he's taller. In dark blue jeans, boots, and a plain black T-shirt, he's just a little bit breathtaking. And surrounding all of that is a bright orange aura. He's a natural leader. The color fits him.

“I don't think so,” he says. Vic looks at me. “Did I move that candle?”

I look around and shake my head. “What candle?”

“Cute,” Cody says. “You know the rule. No magic. No showing off.”

Cody hangs around the booth while I finish Vic's arm. Once Vic is gone, Cody walks to my chair. “Can I go next?” he asks.

“Be my guest,” I tell him.

He sits down and looks at me closely. “Your eyes are different. Do you have on colored contacts?”

I shake my head. “Kendall messed up another spell, so now I have blue eyes and I don't need glasses.”

He laughs. “A bad day to be Kendall.”

I think about my run-in with Kendall in the cafeteria. I want to tell him about it, but not here. Not with everyone watching and listening. I grab the paint and raise the sleeve on his shirt. I know what the symbol is
for his gift. I know it as well as I know my own.

“Vic give you a hard time?” he asks.

“That guy?” I say, pointing to Victor walking away. “Harmless.”

Cody laughs in that way that means,
You don't know what you're talking about.

“How are you?” I ask. I will my breath to calm down. I can hear the nerves in my voice making it shaky.

“Good,” he says. “Why haven't you been answering my e-mails?”

He asks the question quietly, and I'm grateful, because all three of my friends are hanging around, eager to catch a snippet of anything he says to me.

“It's complicated.”
I don't know what to say. I don't know if I can trust you with the truth about me.

I take my time drawing his tattoo while we talk. It's good to talk to him again. It makes me wonder why I was keeping things from him.

I'm nearly done with Cody's tattoo when it happens.

Zena and Kendall show up.

They look like they just walked out of Buckle—blingy jeans with just the right wear in them (the kind you pay extra for), and even blingier shirts that put my outfit to shame.

Ivy rolls her eyes. “Prepare yourselves.” The other girls at the booth giggle, and I smile at Ivy. It's good to know everyone else hates them too.

They spot our booth, but their eyes continue to scan the grounds. They have no intention of working tonight.

“They're looking for you,” I tell him in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Hide me,” he whispers back with a wink.

But I don't. I keep on painting and talking like normal.

As if drawn to him like a paper clip to a magnet, ­Kendall walks straight to Cody. She does a little throat-clearing thing to get Cody's attention, but he doesn't look. She finally steps in front of him, bumps me, and causes me to paint a line through Cody's symbol.

I step back, clean off the paintbrush, and ignore Kendall.

“You ready for some more dancing tonight?” her voice is too loud, her way of making sure everyone hears their conversation.

“I don't know,” Cody answers. “Maybe.”

He looks around her to find me, but she leans too, blocking me.

“You're a really good dancer,” she says.

“Yeah, uh, thanks.”

He stands up.

She looks surprised. I'm sure she expected him to flirt back; after all, that's what most guys do.

It's so funny, I almost laugh out loud.

“I've got to run, but—” He finally gets into a position where he can see me. “I'll be back in a bit to let you fix this.”

Dru glares at Kendall. “How do you live with yourself?”

Kendall smoothes out the wrinkles in her shirt and ignores Dru's question. Dru just shakes her head.

Other guys walk up to the booth, each wanting their own tattoo. I have to shove Kendall out of the way to make room for the boy I'm going to paint. “If you aren't going to help, go away.”

“Suits me,” she says. She takes off with a deliberate toss of her hair that looks ridiculous. We all bust up laughing as she goes.

I spend the next two hours painting design after design. I keep looking for Cody but don't see him. There's an empty spot in my stomach that worries he's with ­Kendall or Zena.

A bell rings, and I know it's our signal to stop working the booths and gather for the ceremony. I put the
lids on the paint containers and rinse the brushes so we can use them when this is over.

There are a lot of people here from other states. People just like us, it seems. I walk to the circle, looking for Ivy. She waves me over, and I walk in her direction. Someone grabs my arm as I walk by, and I spin to see who it is.

Cody.

“Where you going in such a hurry?” he asks. “Are you in the ceremony?”

I shake my head. “No, just looking for Ivy. I think I saw her over there.” I point across the lawn.

“I'll come with you, if that's okay.”

“Keep up,” I tell him. I'm always nervous when I think about talking to Cody, but when I'm with him, that all goes away. Weird.

We find Ivy sitting with Dru and Jo and some guys Cody knows. The lights from the booths dim so that only candlelight illuminates the area beneath the giant oak tree's limbs. A series of chimes signals the beginning of the ceremony, and we face forward in our seats.

The headmistress climbs up the stairs to a small stage erected just for this purpose. She stands ten feet away, her dark hair smooth, her features impossibly perfect.

Her eyes survey the crowd in front of her. There must be close to a thousand people here. She looks more closely, sees me, then sees Cody. Her eyes, welcoming and kind just seconds ago, turn to cold, hard marbles.

She stares. And stares. And I know that if she could do so without making a scene, she would drag me inside by my new hair clip and tell me that I don't have time for a distraction like Cody.

But she can't say anything.

And she doesn't.

But it's coming.

She knows it. I know it. It's coming.