Rhymes With Witches (14 page)

“Thank you,” Mary Bryan said. She strode out of the office and waited while I pulled the door shut and locked it. We walked without speaking down the corridor, and it wasn't until we were back in the main hall, past the water fountain and a bright mural of a teeming jungle, that she relented.

“Sorry I snapped at you.” She gave me a sideways look.

“No,
I'm
sorry,” I said. I gave her a sickly smile. I was still recovering from my fright. “I didn't mean to make you late, honest.”

“Yeah, well. Madame Herrera's going to kill me anyway. It's not like five minutes are going to make a difference.”

We stopped at the top of the stairwell. Her class was back on the first floor; mine was two doors down.

“So whose was it, now that it's done?” she asked.

“Whose was …? Oh, you mean the lip balm?”

She nodded.

I paused, then spit it out. “Alicia's. Alicia Dugger's.”

Mary Bryan paled.

“I know,” I said. “I know, I know. But it's not like she's never borrowed anything from me before. I'll get her a new one, I swear.”

“But Keisha told you,” Mary Bryan said. “She didn't keep anything secret, she told you right up front …”

“You mean that hocus-pocus from last night?” I said. I tried to laugh it off. “Come on.”

Mary Bryan twisted the bottom of her shirt. “She told you how it works,” she whispered. “‘For one to rise, another must fall.'”

It brought the cold feeling back to my body, and I almost felt as though I was going to faint. “Please. You guys are nuts. I mean, it's done, okay? I did what you wanted, so you can drop the whole charade thing.”

She gazed at me.

“Because it's really pretty stupid,” I said. It was the first time I'd said anything like that to her, anything the slightest bit critical.

But all Mary Bryan said was, “Don't do it again. Not if she's your friend.” She touched my arm, or rather the cloth of my shirt. She turned and hurried down the stairs.

During geometry, something odd happened. I was taking notes as Mr. Hopper explained some proof when suddenly the world slid sideways. My pen clattered to my desk, and a shimmer pulsed through me. Life was an infinite web of lights—I knew it because I felt it—and mine burned brighter than most.

The sensation lasted only a second, and then it was gone. I was still me, my butt on the hard plastic seat. But I understood, although I wasn't sure how, that Lurl had found the lip balm.

At lunch, the cafeteria lady handmade my turkey sub, adding guacamole, fresh tomatoes, and two strips of caramelized bacon. I put aside thoughts of offerings and rituals and gave myself to the moment.

“How did she know?” I asked Keisha, glancing down the food line to verify that yes, the lesser mortals were receiving Turkey
Joes. I spotted Phil receiving his plate, and he grinned a hello. He motioned with his eyes at Keisha, a gesture that meant,
Someone's moving up in the world, hmm?
Then the cafeteria lady handed him his Turkey Joe, which was gray, and he turned back quick not to drop it.

“Chill,” Keisha told me under her breath. “Never act entitled.”

“So
here's
our starlet,” Bitsy said, joining us as we exited the line. “This way, luv. We're sitting with the cheerleaders today. Fair's fair, you know, and Elizabeth positively begged.”

“She did?” I said.

“We try to keep a clean rotation,” she explained. “A little taste for everyone.”

At the cheerleaders' table, I sat between Bitsy and Keisha and across from Elizabeth, Amy, and Jodi, who drank me in with wide eyes as if they'd never seen me before. Which, although they had, they probably really hadn't. Mary Bryan sat two seats down, fawned over by Laurie and Trish. She lifted her hand in a wave.

“Oh my god, this is so exciting!” Elizabeth said. She rapped her plate with her fork. “Everyone, this is
Jane
. Jane, this is everyone. Jane's the new … you know!”

“No way,” said Amy. “Congrats!”

“That's awesome!” cried Jodi.

“How do you feel?” asked Elizabeth. “Are you thrilled? You must be so thrilled!”

Bitsy leaned in, murmuring, “I for one bloody well am.
Haven't felt this grand in weeks, you brilliant girl.” She hooked me with her arm and grinned at the others. “She's superb, yeah?”

“She's just precious,” Elizabeth affirmed.

I blushed from my head to my feet. The only other conversation I'd had with Elizabeth had ended with “Who the fuck are you?”

“I … you know. I'm really happy,” I said.

Jodi reached over and grasped my chin, the way a grandmother might do. She squeezed it and let it go. “Oh, she is just too darling for words.”

I couldn't stop smiling. And why not? Yesterday I was nobody, but today I was precious, darling, superb. A tiny part of me way back in my head said,
Wait. Hold on. Can this really be?
But it was squashed by the coos of the cheerleaders, who weren't—I was absolutely sure—faking their adoration. Because I had never felt anything like this before, these waves of positive regard. It was like being bathed in love.

They bombarded me with questions: What music did I like, where did I get my T-shirt, did I want them to do my hair? I answered dizzily. I giggled and tilted my head. A few tables over one of the feral cats yowled and took off with the turkey from someone's sandwich, and Jodi put on a very serious face.

“I'm sorry you had to see that, Jane,” she said.

“Huh? Oh, that's okay,” I said. “I'm used to it.”

Jodi blinked. “Don't you think they're a nuisance, though? Don't you think something should be done about them?”

After a quick glance at Mary Bryan, I said, “Actually, um, I think everyone should just leave them alone. I mean, they're not really hurting anybody, are they?”

Jodi drew back. She changed her expression to reflect this new perspective. “That is so mature. Live and let live, right?”

Amy and Laurie nodded their support.

“We should start a petition,” Trish suggested. “What do you think, Jane? Maybe hold a pep rally?”

“We could dress up like kittens!” Jodi said.

Elizabeth held out her hand. “Not me. Uh-uh.”

“Why not?” Jodi asked.

“The whole squad? Out there prancing around for everyone to see?”

“It would be cute.”

“Uh,
no
. It would be demeaning.”

Bitsy spoke into my ear. “Silly cows.”

I looked away and smiled.

“I think a pep rally is a good idea,” Keisha said. “It would be a great way to raise awareness.”

“See?” Jodi said, jabbing Elizabeth.

“And I know you all will figure out the best way to stage it,” Keisha went on. “That's what you do. That's why y'all are the cheerleaders.”

Jodi lifted her chin. They all sat up a little straighter.

“But right now we need your help with something else.” She touched my shoulder, and I sat up straighter, too. My skin
hummed with specialness. “We need to plan a party for Jane. Will Saturday night work for everyone?”

“I'll be in charge of decorations,” Amy said right away.

“And I'll do food,” said Jodi. “I have an
excellent
recipe for flaming custard in individual spongecake boats.”

“Where will we have it?” Laurie asked. “Should we invite guys?”

Keisha stood up, and Bitsy and Mary Bryan followed suit. I quickly got to my feet.

“Thanks, girls,” Keisha said. “We know we're in good hands.”

“Just don't bring the megaphones this time, eh?” Bitsy said.

We left them talking excitedly. I hadn't eaten a bite of my food, but I wasn't the least bit hungry.

In English, Miriam Fossey looked at me funny and nudged her best friend Angel. She and Angel whispered back and forth, and Angel's eyebrows shot up. Then Angel whispered something to Bobbi, who passed it onto Taniqua. Soon all the girls in the class were whispering, and I knew it had to do with me. I knew because after class, Miriam made a point of coming over and talking to me, which she hadn't done all year.

“There's something different about you,” she accused.

“There is?”

“I saw you at lunch. You were sitting with Bitsy and Mary Bryan and Keisha.”

I tilted my head. In fifth grade, Miriam and I had been friends.
We both liked to swing. Then in sixth grade, she told me my neck was dirty. That was soon after Dad had left. She said she couldn't hang out with me anymore, that her mother had said so.

“Huh,” I said to her now. “So I was.”

Miriam scrunched up her mouth, and I could tell she was dying to say something snotty. But what was there to say? Anyway, Miriam was a snob, but she wasn't stupid.

“Well,” she said at last. “Lucky you.”

On Friday, we ate with the debate team. Boiled chicken breasts for them, Duck à l'orange for us. I had never tasted duck before. It was delicious.

However, the debaters weren't as fun as the cheerleaders. They were at first, when they told me how wonderful I was using phrases like, “as evidenced by your superior mental endowment” and “proven without contest by your taste in dining companions.” But then they fell into an argument about the importance of peer group interactions, and it got really boring.

“Why?” moaned Bitsy as Rutgers Steiner pressed Callie Winship about the multiple definitions of “social intercourse.” “Why, why, why?”

“Just tune them out,” said Mary Bryan. She plucked a marinated orange slice from my plate. To me she said, “The stoners are even worse. All they do is gaze at us and stroke our hair.”

“So why do you—” I made a
dumb me
face. I started over. “So why do we bother? Why don't we sit with whoever we want?”

“Yes, Jane,” Bitsy said. “Excellent question.” She turned to Keisha. “Why don't we?”

Keisha telegraphed her disapproval. “Because it wouldn't be fair.”