Kelly McClymer-Salem Witch 03 She's A Witch Girl (13 page)

I showed up at practice happy, but my good mood didn’t last long. Why is it that silver clouds have black linings? The Witches had finally managed to get ourselves to the point where we had a chance to win—and now we were forbidden.

Coach Gertie didn’t look any happier than we were when she passed on the news that Agatha had forbidden her to bind our magic and banned us from mortal cheering at all. But she wasn’t going to argue with Agatha.

Apparently, more than just Charity’s parents had complained about the danger of our technique. “Your parents have spoken, girls. I’m sorry. You can still compete in magic games, but you are not allowed to practice or compete with mortals. Your parents feel it is too dangerous, and the headmistress has concurred.”

Charity was back and looking smug. “It was stupid to try to do those lame and dangerous mortal moves. They didn’t get us anything but bruised.” She was truly clueless about the attitude against her in the room. “Now we can go back to the old ways.”

“What are we going to do?” Tara witch-whispered to me.

I gave her a look that said “watch me” and then laughed out loud. “The old ways? I don’t think so.”

“You’re not head cheerleader. You don’t have any say.” Charity frowned at me, and all the other girls looked like they hoped I’d save us all from the stupidity of clueless people like Charity.

If there weren’t a charm against it on school grounds, I think Tara might have cast ice darts from her eyes straight to Charity’s heart. “Pru’s my second-in-command, Charity. She has a lot of say.”

Charity was so shocked that she actually lost her automatic smile.
“I’m
your second-in-command.”

“Don’t be silly,” Tara answered, with an eyebrow lift of surprise. “Why would you be my second-in-command when the winning attitude Pru has in her little toenail you don’t have in your entire body, including the energy field around it?”

Charity did the gasping fish-mouth thing. Very unattractive, but particularly satisfying when we all really wanted to fillet her for messing up our plans. She looked around for a moment, as if she thought she had a friend left. Right. She gave up on that hope pretty quick and just stood there miserably, but with a mean girl challenge in her eyes while she stared at me. “What are we going to do? We can’t do mortal routines. We’re forbidden.” She looked at Coach Gertie, who nodded unhappily.

I smiled, like I didn’t want to fillet her as badly as the other girls did. It was important that I get everyone behind me. Maybe even more important than it would be on national competition day. And that was saying something. “We’re going to turn our talents to a new audience.”

Coach Gertie smiled at me all of a sudden. A real smile that said she suddenly thought I might be capable of getting us out of this mess. “What audience is that?” she asked.

I smiled, drawing out the suspense until I was sure all the girls were watching me. “Our parents.”

There was a definite drop in the level of hope in the room. A chorus of complaints came from every direction. I singled out one I heard from at least five people: “They’re never together.”

“It isn’t usual to find them together,” I agreed. Witch parents tended to do their own thing. Kids lived with their moms and knew their dads, of course, but most witch parents protected their children by setting a lot of charms and spells over them. They were more about quality time sightseeing the globe than hands-on raising their kids. “And it won’t happen naturally. But we can get them together. Remember, we can do anything, right?”

“I don’t know. . . .” Even Tara wasn’t quite sure.

I thought they might be more positive if I told them my idea. But I also thought it was important for them to start being positive even when things looked bleak. That’s the way to get through the hard parts of competition—and life, too, I guess. So I gave them a challenge. “Maybe we should take a vote. Are we the Witches?” I held my breath, but smiled like I was sure they were all going to eagerly say yes.

“Yes.” There was a surprising amount of force behind the answer, which cheered me up immensely.

“Do our parents like to see our school teams win?”

“Yes!” Great. It was unanimous. Even Charity had said yes— probably because Tara was staring her down, daring her not to. “Are we the bomb at making the impossible possible?”

“Yes!” It was practically a roar this time.

“Then let’s convince our parents that we are the greatest and we deserve to cheer at Nationals!”

“Yes!” Everyone shot streamers into the air.

It turned out that getting that “Yes” was the last positive forward movement we took for a few hours. We just couldn’t agree on how to get our parents’ wandering attention.

I’d suggested just showing them our stuff at the next magic game. But, as was pointed out, we couldn’t count on everyone to show for that. Half was probably the best we could come up with.

One group was convinced we should kidnap ourselves and plant clues so that when they came to find us, we could spring our surprise while they were still too upset to say no. Coach Gertie vetoed that one pretty quickly, to my relief. Too much
CSI
for Elektra and Sunita, I think.

Finally, I had a brainstorm that combined my idea for the next magic game with a hook that would bring out more parents. “Don’t they come to awards ceremonies?” All parents come to awards ceremonies when they’re told their child is going to receive an award. “Then let’s pretend there’s an award for best cheerleader.”

At last, that idea got our positive energy flowing again. “We could send them some kewl invitations like you made for your sweet sixteen party.” Elektra had really liked that
party. I think she’d probably already decided to throw herself a sweet seventeen for her next birthday.

“Great.” Tara was getting into it too. “And then we can beg them to come—each of us working on our own parents, of course.”

Charity crossed her arms over her chest. “Mine aren’t ever going to come.”

Tara looked at her. “Not a problem. We’ll just drop you from the team and pick an alternate.”

Charity turned green, obviously shocked by the idea of being off the team.

“We don’t need to be so drastic,” I said to Tara, playing good cop to her excellent rendition of bad cop. “Okay, how many feel their parents are hardcore refuseniks?” Only one other girl besides Charity raised her hand.

“So let’s decide what it will take to get them there, and make sure the invitation sounds like a can’t-miss function.” I didn’t lift the threat of dropping the girls from the team who couldn’t get their parents to the magic game. It was a good idea for everyone to have incentive, especially Charity.

“Girls, I think you’ve forgotten one thing,” Coach Gertie’s voice came from above our heads. We all looked up to see her floating there in her “thinking position,” as she called it.

“What’s that?” Tara asked.

“Your parents will not be in a cooperative mood if they arrive at the game/awards ceremony and find that there are no awards to be presented.”

Okay, it was a teensy flaw in an otherwise brilliant plan. So sue me.

Coach Gertie made a goddess of herself in my eyes right then when she said, “I think we can remedy that. We’ll just need to make it a true awards ceremony.”

Tara was as impressed as I was. “You can do that?” And then she said, “I wish we’d thought of this sooner. No one ever appreciates what we do.”

“Of course I can.” Coach Gertie floated to the floor. “It’s high time you girls were recognized as the serious athletes you are. So, ceremony at our next game. I’ll get the word to Agatha and the other coaches. You girls make the invitations.”

“Who is going to decide who gets what award?” Tara looked at me. I looked at Tara. Then we both looked at the coach.

Coach Gertie smiled mysteriously. “You girls leave that up to me. I’m the coach, after all.”

There’s a downside to trying to keep everybody
happy and all the balls in the air. For example, Tara and Angelo and I were supposed to hang out. But I needed to study for the big potions test the next day. I couldn’t say anything to Angelo, of course, but alarm bells should have gone off when I saw the glint in Tara’s eyes.

“It’ll be okay. You can just go in and out and say you’re making something in the kitchen that needs a lot of attention.” She was practically drooling at the thought. “I could use some time to relax with a cute boy after all this stress about the parents going nuclear on our competition plans.”

Yeah. Me too. Unfortunately, To-Do was in my back
pocket, ready to pinch me if I didn’t keep to my action steps. “What do you think I could make that would need me in the kitchen constantly?”

“I have no idea. You’re the one with the mother who actually cooked.” She looked away from the window, where she was on Angelo-watch. “Is your mom going to come to the game?”

“Of course.” Not that I was sure I wanted her there. When I’d explained everything that was going on, she hadn’t been as enthusiastic as I’d expected her to be. She’d actually said, “Maybe it’s for the best that you don’t compete in the mortal realm for a while, honey.” As if.

“Both of my parents are coming, although my dad made it sound like he was really put out, since the game isn’t on one of his scheduled visiting days. But Mom says that’s a put-on. He loves Dragon Ball. He used to play when he went to Agatha’s.” She went on red alert. “Angelo’s coming. Make yourself scarce.”

Sigh. “Fine. If he asks, tell him I’m making Christmas cookies. That would require me to fill pans and switch them in and out of the oven, so it shouldn’t arouse his curiosity too much.”

“Christmas cookies. Perfect. Don’t forget to put some in the oven to bake. The house should smell like cookies. And gingerbread.” Tara has a secret sweet tooth. “And Angelo and I can test them for you.”

I knew I shouldn’t tease her, but I couldn’t help myself. “What if he wants to help make the cookies?”

She looked at me blankly, as if I’d asked if she thought Angelo might want to fly to the moon on a broomstick. “Why would he do that?”

“Because he’s a nice guy, if you haven’t noticed.”

She grinned, a wicked grin that didn’t bode well for Angelo’s virtue if I left them alone too long. “It’s not the ‘nice’ that I notice about that mortal.”

No duh. “He may offer to help. If he does, I’ll—”

In her best head cheerleader instruction tone, she said, “You’ll say you don’t need any help.”

Right. “I’ll say I have a system going and I promised my mom not to share our family recipes. He’ll get that, since his mother is big into secrets.” Secrets. That reminded me of Samuel, and his big secret. I hadn’t had much time to talk to him since then. But I had sent him an invitation to the magic game. I didn’t know whether to hope he came or not.

Tara shuddered. “Whatever. You understand these mortals better than I do. Not that I want to understand that woman any better.”

“Yeah, well, they’re a package deal. If you want Angelo, you have to tolerate his mother.”

“Don’t be silly.” Tara smiled. “That’s what I have you for: You run the best interference I’ve ever seen. I mean that on or off the floor.”

“Gee, thanks so much.” I sounded sarcastic, but I was actually a little flattered.

“Hey, we both know why I’m here. And it’s not to hang out with a study-freak like you, now, is it?”

“No, it’s to hide the fact you’re hot for a mortal from your parents.”

“Like you totally wouldn’t if you weren’t so busy trying to keep up in magic class.”

Low blow, even if it was true. Which, I suppose, was why I didn’t go back to join them as often as I should. And which was why it was my mom who noticed they were locking lips when she casually walked in to offer them something to drink.

I didn’t hear any commotion. I just walked into the living room with a plate of fresh hot gingerbread to find Mom standing there, her “I’m not going to panic yet” look on her face and Tara and Angelo standing about three feet apart. They looked like they’d been pushed apart by a big wind that had also messed up their hair. Angelo’s hottie factor was actually upped as he stood there with his hair standing on end, even if he also looked a little dazed and quite a bit afraid of my mom.

Tara, not knowing my mom well, tried the lying-your-way-out option. “Angelo was just trying to help me get this barrette out of my hair.” She held up an ugly barrette that she’d materialized out of thin air. Even Samuel
would have known that she wouldn’t wear anything that hideous.

Mom didn’t call her on it, though, which meant things were really bad. She just said, “I understand, Tara. But I think it’s time for you to go home now.”

“Sure.” Tara knew when to cut her losses.

From the look in her eye as she left—through the front door, for appearances’ sake—I wasn’t sure if Tara was going to speak to me ever again. My mom had caught her making out with Angelo. My mom had sent her home.

Of course, after Angelo left, stumbling and red-faced, things got much worse.

It would have been awful to be punished because I was studying while they were making out—all the trouble and none of the fun. But no, my mom didn’t say a word about that. Instead, she asked me three questions in that no-nonsense way of hers. And I answered them, no matter that I’d rather have waxed all the hair off my head instead.