Perfect Revenge (2 page)

Rachel.

She did this.

“Elizabeth. The principal's office. Now!”

“I can explain.”

Mr. Sparks shakes his head. “I'm sure you can. And you'll have your chance in the office. Are you going?”

I have no choice. My hands tremble as I gather my purse and books. My face burns. My legs feel wobbly. I cast a look around the room, and all eyes are on me. All, that is, except Kyle's. The way he is so harshly
not
looking at me makes me feel he'd rather look at mucus.

It's easy to give people the wrong impression. Sometimes, I even give myself the wrong impression. Like thinking life was good and that I was in control of it.

I have to wait outside the principal's office until after the final bell. When Mr. Sparks finally shows up, and I tell them what happened, they don't believe me.

Mr. Sparks says, “Rachel is a model student, while you, Lizzie, quite frankly, are not.”

“Science isn't exactly my thing,” I say.

Mr. Sparks ignores this and keeps talking. “Also, you're often late to class and today I noticed that you were early.”

The principal says, “We will be contacting your parents.”

Mr. Sparks says, “Your grade on the exam is zero.”

Not to be outdone, the principal leans forward and says, “And our usual policy for cheating is suspension from school.”

I feel like I'm going to cry.

“However,” he adds, “since this is your first offence, we will consider one week of detention. This will depend upon you.”

“Me?” I squeak.

“That's correct. If you return tomorrow with a written apology for Mr. Sparks, you may be allowed to serve a week of detention.”

Such a deal
, I think. I desperately want to get out of there and run to the comfort of my circle of friends, so I simply nod. They release me.

The empty hallways feel creepy, and
I don't even bother to go to my locker. I head straight for the covered area, but when I get there, nobody's there! Not even Haley. I pull out my cell phone to call her, but the battery is dead. It gets worse. I have to walk home by myself. It feels so strange and lonely. I keep my eyes down. I don't want anyone to recognize me, Lizzie Lane, walking alone.

When I finally get home, the house is empty too. Mom and Dad are still at work, which is normal, but it's not too often that I go home alone. I usually bring friends with me or I go to their place. It's like I've entered some weird alternate universe.

I grab the phone and head out into the backyard to call Haley. She finally answers on the fourth ring and her voice sounds cold. “Oh. Hey, Lizzie.”

That's it? No stream of questions about what happened to me? I say, “Omigod, Haley! You won't believe it.”

There's a tiny space of silence, and then she says, “Actually, I heard.”

“You did? So you know about Rachel?”

“Rachel?” Haley still sounds cold. “What does she have to do with anything?”

“Everything!” I yell. “She made it look like I was cheating on a science exam.”

“Oh, come on, Lizzie. You don't expect me to believe that, do you?”

I say, “Huh?”

“Look, everyone knows what happened. I mean, enough people saw it, right? And I can figure things out too, you know. Like, I tell you that Kyle's really smart so you have to try and be smart too? Just so you know, he hates you now.”

I can't believe this is happening. It must be some sort of nightmare. I give my hair a tug to see if I can feel it. I don't know why that's supposed to change nightmares, but I've heard of people doing stuff like that.

“So yeah,” Haley says, “I've gotta go. We're all going to the mall.”

“But,” I splutter, “you don't even know what happened! Rachel gave me that answer key. She said it was a gift. I thought it was a note.”

“That's pathetic, girl. She isn't even in your class. You know, you've been really mean to Rachel. She's not a complete loser. And you telling everyone about her lopsided boobs to get her away from Kyle—was that even true?”

“I told you, she showed me! In grade six. She has to stuff one side of her bra to even out. And I'm not the one who wrote it on the bathroom walls or told Josh! You—”

She cuts me off. “Yeah, I so believed you. It's not like she could prove it wrong, is it? Not unless she wants to go around flashing everyone. And now you're trying to pin your cheating on her too? Get real!” And Haley hangs up.

I stare at the phone. I throw the phone. If Rachel was here right now, I'd throw her too. Or something. My head feels like it's on fire, my stomach too. In fact, my entire body is burning. Bit by bit, the extent of damage caused by Rachel's little gift starts to sink in. I'm in trouble at school. My parents are going to be furious. My friends have ditched me. My crush hates me.

I've never felt so much anger. Rachel is going to pay for this! And then I collapse on the lawn and start sobbing, just wailing like I've never wailed before.

I do that for a while, long enough to feel like a blob of melted jelly. I start hiccupping, and that makes me cry more. There's nothing left of me but hopeless pain and rage. And then I hear a voice. It occurs to me that I've been hearing it for a while.

It says, “Hey. Are you hurt? You need help?”

I lift my head and look around. There's the back door, the patio, the fence. I hear it again.

“It's Lizzie, right? Are you okay?”

There's a tree by the fence, and the voice is coming from there. From the tree. That's it, for sure I've lost my mind now too. I moan and lie back on the grass.

“I'm coming over, okay?”

I sit up again and stare at the tree. It's coming over? Part of me knows I better get out of there, fast, but my body refuses
to move. My brain is saying, “go,” but my body's just not getting it.

Sure enough, the tree starts rustling, and I think I'm going to faint now, just check out, when a long skinny leg emerges from the leaves. That leg is followed by another. Both legs are clad in striped socks. Seriously, red-and-black-striped socks.

The legs dangle for a moment and then an entire body drops to the ground. There is nothing else for me to do but scream. I close my eyes, throw back my head and howl.

“Hey! Whoa! Wow, you're really messed up, huh?”

The voice sounds human. It even sounds friendly. I crack open an eye, and there's a girl standing over me.

“Should I call an ambulance?” she asks.

“An ambulance?” I croak.

“Yeah. You don't look like you're bleeding or broken or anything, but your face is all red and swollen. Do you have allergies? Did you eat something bad?”
Her face is puckered with concern, but I recognize her.

I mutter, “You're that new kid from next door.”

“Yup. I'm Stella.” She tilts her head to one side and smiles. The sunlight flashes off her braces and practically blinds me. She adds, “You're Lizzie, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, what's wrong?” she asks.

I sit up and squint at her. “Have you been spying on me?”

“Uh, no. But I heard you crying and I climbed the tree by the fence to see what was wrong. You're not physically injured though, are you?”

I heave a sigh and say, “You wouldn't understand.”

She plops down on the lawn and says, “Try me.”

I look at her and think this is incredibly weird because
she's
incredibly weird. She's not the sort of person I'd normally ever talk to. I've seen her around a few times since she moved in next door, but one look at
her was all I needed to know she wasn't my type. I mean, the kid dresses like a Raggedy Ann doll. She's so thin she looks like a collection of twigs. And her hair! It's this wild mass of black curls that frizz around her head like an alien life-form.

But I start talking. I tell her everything that happened to me, and she listens. Really listens. When I'm done talking, I feel better but also a little worried. Is talking to someone like her yet another sign that life as I've known it is over?

“Sounds like that Rachel girl is really mean,” Stella says. “Why would she do something like that to you?”

“I don't know,” I sniff. “But I'll tell you this. She's going to pay. I don't know how yet, but I'll get her back.”

Stella grins. I blink to avoid the flash off the metal, but it doesn't happen this time. She looks at me sideways and says, “I know what you need.”

“You do?” I ask.

“Oh yeah.” She nods. In that gesture I find some hope. Her nod is so certain.

“So tell me,” I say.

“You need to work a little magick,” she says.

I stare at her. “Magick? You're making fun of me?”

“No. I wouldn't do that.” She shakes her head. “I'm totally serious. I know some magick. My baba has been teaching me.”

I roll my eyes. “Your baba? What's that?”

“My grandmother,” Stella says. “She's from the old country and she knows plenty.”

“You are serious, aren't you?” I ask. “I mean, you actually believe in this stuff?”

“For sure I believe it. I've seen it work.” Stella frowns and bends her head to pluck at the grass. “Although, I'm not really supposed to tell just anyone about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” she says, “it's sort of a family secret. Well, maybe not just for blood family, but for those who have respect. It's not a game.”

Of all the things Stella might have said, this bit about secrets and respect
sounds convincing. “So you're saying that if I learn how to do this, I could get back at Rachel?”

Stella nods her head vigorously. “I know the perfect revenge spell.”

Perfect revenge
. The words waft into my steamed brain like a cool breeze. Ahh. The dreary darkness of misery parts to make way for hope. I start to imagine things. A wart on Rachel's nose—a giant fuzzy wart. And tufts of hair growing out of her ears. Oh, and what about armpits that pour smelly sweat? I'm just warming up when Stella cuts in.

“You'll have to learn a few basics first. The revenge spell is tricky.”

“Tricky?” I ask. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she says, “whatever you send out magickally, will come back on you threefold.”

“Say what?” I ask.

“It's like this.” Stella hesitates, then begins to twirl a tuft of hair in her finger. No wonder it looks like an alien life-form. The twirling is intense. “When you work
magick you're working with the power of nature. It's like shaping or bending the energy to your will. But before you draw power from the source, you need to align with it. Does this sound complicated?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Darn,” she says. “There's a lot to explain. It's hard to know where to start.”

I'm getting suspicious. I think Stella is just making this up. I mean, how hard can it be if
she
does it? “Why don't you give me an example? Or better yet, a demonstration.”

She laughs. “You want to see me vanish or something?”

“No.” Although now that she's mentioned it...“I just want you to keep it simple. Isn't there some kindergarten magick you can show me?”

“Hmmm,” she says. “All right. How about this. I'll teach you an easy spell, and when you're ready, you can try it yourself.”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay, here goes.” Stella sits up straight and says, “Repeat after me. On the count of one, the spell's begun.”

“On the count of one, the spell's begun.” I get a teensy little tingle in my spine.

“On the count of two, let the magick ring true.”

I repeat that, and the hair on my arms stands up.

“On the count of three, the magick is me.”

As I repeat the last line, I feel a definite vibe. “Wow. Now what?”

“Well,” Stella says, “that's a simple incantation. What you do is think of something you want to have happen. You get the idea firmly in your head. Maybe you light a candle. Then you say the words and picture the thing you want to happen.”

“That's it?” I ask. “And then it happens?”

“Maybe not right away,” she says. “Magick works in its own time. You have to be patient.”

I'm about to tell her that sucks when I hear my mom's car pull up to the house. “Oh no,” I moan.

“What?” Stella asks.

“I think the principal was going to call my mom at work. I'm in for it now.”

Stella shakes her head. “Won't your mother believe you when you explain?”

“I don't know.” I shrug. “Guess I'll find out.”

“I better go,” Stella says. “But there are some important things about the magick I haven't finished explaining. Maybe I'll talk to you later?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Later.”

To complete the Worst Day of My Life, I get the Worst Evening of My Life. My parents don't believe that Rachel would play such a dirty trick on me. They know Rachel's parents. Mom says, “They're lovely people. Simply lovely. And Rachel is always so polite. I don't know why you two can't be friends.”

Dad says, “I'm very disappointed in you, Elizabeth.”

I say, “My life is over. I wish I were dead.”

That gets them to back off a little. Mom pats my shoulder and says, “There, there. You don't mean that. You know, there's probably a simple explanation. Maybe Rachel picked up the test key by mistake. Then she got it mixed up with her note to you.”

This is far-fetched and we all know it, but we decide that must have been what happened. Everything was one big accident. We also decide the principal and Mr. Sparks are unlikely to believe this.

Dad says, “You're going to have to write that note of apology, Lizzie.”