Bewitching (10 page)

It was Lisette. She found my face, as if she’d known I’d be there, and smiled before turning to Ms. Dillon. “I’m Lisette Cooper. They said I’m in your class.”

“Welcome, welcome, Lisette. We were about to discuss
Of Mice and Men
. There’s an empty seat in back.”

I twisted to look. Of course. The empty seat was right next to my former BFF, Courtney, who sat with her new posse, Midori and Tayloe. Lisette walked toward them but, as she passed, she dropped a sheet of paper on my desk.

A note? I checked it out. It was her schedule. Five of our six classes were the same, the only difference being German Two, fourth period. Lisette was in Spanish One. I glanced back at her. Had she asked to have the same schedule? To be with me 24/7? She smiled and gave me a thumbs-up.

“Okay, then,” Ms. Dillon was saying. “What can you tell me about the character of George Milton? Yes, Courtney?”

“I think maybe he was named for John Milton, the author of
Paradise Lost
, and that symbolizes his quest for utopia, just as Adam and Eve fell from grace when they were banished from the Garden of Eden.”

Fell from grace? Quest for utopia? Who talked like that? Certainly not Courtney
. She’d obviously gotten this stuff from the internet or maybe Cliff’s Notes. I doubted she’d even read the book. Back when we were friends, I told her the answers to every single Accelerated Reader test I’d ever taken, so she’d get enough points for class. Teachers never questioned the fact that we’d read the exact same books every quarter. If they had, we’d have said we were best friends, that we did everything together.

That had changed in sixth grade. The month before we’d started middle school, my family went on vacation to North Carolina, in the mountains where there was sucky cell phone reception. I texted Courtney every chance I got, but she didn’t always text back. When we returned, I called her. And again. After about the fifth try, I got a text from her saying she was busy, but she’d see me the first day of school.

But when I got there, she was ensconced in a group of girls who hadn’t gone to our elementary school, prettier girls, cooler girls, girls who looked like they’d been born with the best cell phones attached to their hands, born to hang out in a clump, girls whose parents had no rules. “Hey, Courtney,” I’d said.

“Hey,” she replied before turning back to the others, giggling.

I sat next to her at lunch because that’s what I’d done every single day since kindergarten. Even when we hadn’t been in the same class, I’d always snuck over to her table, or she to mine.

“Sorry,” she said. “This seat’s saved for Midori.”

“Okay.” I started for the seat across from her.

“And Tayloe’s sitting there.”

The seat diagonal from Courtney was empty, so I took that one. When Midori and Tayloe showed up, Courtney didn’t introduce us. They all ignored me.

I never figured out what I’d done to lose Courtney’s friendship. As days passed, I tried to talk to her, but she acted like she didn’t know why I was bothering her, and her new friends started picking on me. Then, Courtney herself had. At home, Mother kept asking me why I didn’t ask Courtney to sleep over anymore. When I said she didn’t like me anymore, she offered to call Courtney’s mother. Like that would help.

The whole thing was like a divorce. When we divided everything up, Courtney got my dignity, and I got the heartache. I didn’t understand. Popularity was like a kind of science, but unlike my school subjects, I couldn’t learn it.

Now, Ms. Dillon said, “That’s exactly right, Courtney. Anyone else? What was George like? Emma?”

“Um…” I squirmed and looked at my chipped nail polish. Ms. Dillon always called on me because she knew I’d have the answer she wanted. I hated it, though. I knew that the other kids, that Lisette, would think I was a suck-up. I considered giving the wrong answer, or even saying I hadn’t read the book. How much did middle-school grades really matter, after all? But somehow, I just couldn’t do it.

“He was lonely. That’s what the book was about, the lonely lives of migrant workers. George hung out with Lennie, and he acted like he had to, but really, he was a loner. He didn’t fit in with anyone else.”

Why did I say that? Stupid! Sure enough, behind me I heard a giggle. “She should know about that,” someone—maybe Midori—whispered.

The comment stung like a jellyfish in calm water. I’d learned not to let their barbs hurt me, but now Lisette was there. Lisette, who maybe hadn’t noticed that I was the geek of the universe. Why did they have to ruin it for me with her?

I wanted to look back at her, to see if she’d heard. No. I had to keep talking.

“George is really responsible, though,” I told Ms. Dillon. “He takes responsibility for Lennie. In the end, he even takes responsibility for—”

“Uh-uh,” Ms. Dillon interrupted. “No spoilers! I want everyone to finish, and they’re not all as voracious readers as you.”

More giggles from behind me, and Courtney said, “She has nothing else to do.”

Sigh! I’d better shut up now. I glanced back at Lisette, to see if she was disgusted by the fact that I’d finished the book. She smiled. Beside her, Courtney widened her eyes, like what was I looking at. I didn’t care. As long as I had Lisette, I’d be happy. I pictured us being like Jo and Beth in
Little Women
or Elinor and Marianne in
Sense and Sensibility
, real sisters, confidantes.

Midori made a face. “What a suck-up,” she whispered. “Ow!” she shrieked.

“What’s the matter, Midori?” Ms. Dillon’s voice was a sigh.

“I don’t know. Just—ow!—I’m getting these weird shooting pains.” She clutched her abdomen. “Ouch!” She squeezed her eyes shut, like she was trying not to cry.

“Cramps,” Ms. Dillon said, and a few people giggled. At Midori. “Go to the nurse, then. Courtney, why don’t you take her?”

Midori limped out, still holding her stomach. Courtney followed her.

After class, Lisette stood by my desk, waiting for me to put my books away. She said, “Isn’t it cool? I asked if we could have all our classes together, so they made them all the same, except Spanish.”

“Wow. They’re not usually that nice about scheduling.” I was amazed she’d even asked.

She shrugged. “I guess because of what happened.” She glanced away. “I told Dad to ask, and he agreed it would be good to have a familiar face.”

I wondered if she’d just asked to impress my father. No, that was stupid. Why couldn’t I just believe that Lisette liked me, that she wanted a sister, like I did?

We walked to second period together and actually got to sit together in third. When we split up for our language arts classes, Lisette said, “See you at lunch.”

But when I got to the cafeteria, Lisette was walking in with Courtney.

6

Our cafeteria looked the way I’m guessing most school cafeterias do, white and black spotted floors dulled by years of spilled chocolate milk and dirty sneakers. Louvered windows that let in barely enough light to see your food … probably a good thing. Skinny girls sat by the salad bar. Those with weak stomachs were near the door. I walked down the rows of tables, my soles sticking to the floor. Usually, I sat toward the middle, where I could be most invisible, with some girls from my fourth period whose names I probably wouldn’t remember in a year.

The one weird feature of our cafeteria was, it had a single table with four chairs attached to it. Probably it was for the teachers, until the teachers realized they didn’t have good enough health insurance to risk the cafeteria’s version of empanadas. Courtney, Tayloe, and Midori, as the most “popular” eighth-grade girls, sat there. The fourth chair was always empty. Once, some clueless sixth graders had parked there. The first day, Courtney and Company had allowed it. The second, the sixth graders had stood to reveal red food coloring all over the butts of their Abercrombie jeans. No one could prove anything, but the next day, they sat on the benches.

I watched Lisette head, with Courtney, to the fourth seat.

Okay, so that was how it was going to be.

I glanced around, trying to find Erin, the quiet girl from my fourth-period class. I usually sat with her, but I’d left her in the dust to make sure I caught Lisette.

But wait! From across the room, Lisette was waving.

“Hey, Emma! Em, come over here!”

Courtney grabbed her elbow, and I saw her gesture at the table, pointing to each seat, showing Lisette there was no room.

Lisette started to walk away.

Courtney glanced around, as if trying to decide if she was hallucinating, or if she’d been transported to some alt universe where people preferred to sit with me. It was a difficult concept, even for me, and Courtney had never been bright. Courtney’s size-one rear hovered over her chosen seat. She stood, then half sat again, like a competitive toddler playing musical chairs.

Finally, she strode, a little too fast to be completely dignified, after Lisette. People were noticing now, probably wondering if there was going to be some kind of mean girl takedown with Courtney shrieking, “No one turns their back on me, beeyoch!” Lisette had almost reached me when Courtney touched her shoulder.

“Wait!” Courtney gestured to one of the rectangular tables. “We can all fit here.”

Lisette glanced at the seats, then at me. “Oh. Okay, if you’re sure.”

“Of course.” Courney grinned, or bared her teeth. “Em and I are old friends. We’ve literally known each other since birth. Right, Emma?”

“I guess.” It was raining, and I glanced at the window to see if rain was falling up.

“So we can all sit here,” Courtney said. “Together.”

While we were standing around, two girls started to take Courtney’s chosen seats.

“We’re here,” she informed them.

“I thought you sat there.” One of the girls pointed to the little table.

“Does it look like we’re there? Duh. People are so stupid.” She sat and gestured for Lisette and me to spread out. “Leave room for Tayloe and Midori.”

The table for four sat empty. No one dared sit at it. I bet it would be empty all year.

Midori and Tayloe showed up then, Midori obviously feeling better. They glanced at the table but didn’t dare comment. Courtney leaned toward Lisette. “Sooooo, how do you know Emma?”

“She’s my stepsister.”

“Stepsister?” Courtney looked at me. “Did your parents get divorced, that I don’t know about?”

“They were always divorced,” Lisette said. “My dad married Emma’s mom when Emma and I were three, but I’ve been living up in Palm Beach with my mother.”

“That’s so weird,” Courtney said. “I always thought he was your real dad.”

He was!

“So, Palm Beach.” Midori did a bit of hair-ography with her dark hair. “Do you play polo and hang with Tiger Woods?”

Dad had told me Lisette was from Lantana, which was in Palm Beach County, but not rich Palm Beach, where the millionaires lived. But Lisette didn’t correct Midori. People didn’t. “Well, not polo, but the shops on Worth Avenue are totes to die for.” She did some hair-ography of her own, fluffing her blond curls back.

And that’s when I noticed them. Shell-shaped earrings with aquamarines on top. They were beautiful.

And they were mine. Daddy had bought them on a cruise we’d taken for my birthday last year. Aquamarine was my birthstone.

“Wow, great earrings,” I said. “I have a pair just like them.”

Lisette reached her hand for her ear, as if trying to remember what earrings she had on. “Truly? They were my mother’s. Her birthday’s in March. How weird that you’d have the same ones.” She grinned. “It must be fate, to show that we’re truly meant to be sisters.”

Courtney rolled her eyes, and I exhaled. It sounded like something from a novel, like the locket in
Oliver Twist
. Of course there was an explanation. Lisette wouldn’t steal my earrings and wear them right in front of me. Still, I’d go find mine when I got home. We could even wear them together.

“How cute,” Courtney said. “You always said you wanted a sister, Em.” She went back to Lisette. “So what’s your schedj for the rest of the day?”

And neither she, nor her friends, talked to me the rest of lunch.

When the warning bell rang, I started gathering my stuff. I didn’t want this. I was over Courtney. I didn’t want to be back in her web.

Courtney said, “We’re walking to Starbucks after school. There’s this hot barista Tayloe’s lusting for.”

“Not lusting,” Tayloe protested.

“Ahem. You don’t even like coffee.”

“Okay, he is cute.”

“You should come, Lisette,” Courtney said, “and bring Emma.”

I knew I’d go.

I didn’t get to sit by Lisette in chorus. Even though we were both sopranos, Miss Hakes put her in back because she was taller. I sat by—who else?—Kendra. Miss Hakes announced that, next Monday, she’d have auditions for a solo. Kendra nudged me. “You should try out.”

“Oh.” I turned to see if she was kidding. “Really?”

“You have a beautiful voice.”

I wanted to return the compliment, but it seemed like Kendra usually just mouthed the words. I’d actually been planning on trying for the solo. I’d been practicing at home for weeks. I’d even gotten Mother to pay for some voice lessons with Miss Hakes. I thought I had a good voice, but no one had ever told me I did.