Rhymes With Witches (7 page)

Elizabeth Greene, head cheerleader:
… and so he called me up out of the blue and was like, “I could really use someone to cuddle with right now.” Isn't that too cute?

Amy Skyler, Elizabeth's best friend:
No.

Elizabeth:
I think he wants to get back together.

Amy:
Elizabeth, he was
horny
. Which, in case you've forgotten, is why he dumped you for Paisley in the first place.

Elizabeth:
She totally stole him on purpose. Slut.

Amy:
Skank.

Elizabeth:
Lying piece of trash.

Me, edging closer:
Paisley Karr? The girl who trains Seeing-Eye dogs?

Elizabeth:
Who the fuck are you?

Stuart Hill, star quarterback:
Dude! I am all about faith. I mean, those Christian girls are hot.

John Rogers, linebacker:
Yeah, man. You said it.

Me:

Stuart:
I'm like, “You want to pray, sweet thing? Sure, baby, get down on those knees.”

John, cackling:
Forgive me, O Lord, for I have sinned.

Me:

Stuart:
Dude!

Raven Holtzclaw-Fontaine, super-good artist:
I'm dying to capture one of them in oil. Those claws. Those yellow eyes. Oh my god, those
tails
.

Katie Clark, wannabe artist:
You should. You totally should.

Raven:
“Doomed to Die,” I could call it. Or, I know, I know. “Fish out of Water.”

Katie, giggling:
“Fish” out of water? Not “cat” out of water?

Raven:
It's a statement, Katie, not a one-to-one correspondence.

Me:
Are you, um, talking about the feral cats?

Katie:
Excuse me?

Me:
Because even though they're creepy, I kind of feel bad for them. Don't you? I mean, they just want to go about their lives, but they can't, because everybody hates them and throws rocks at them and—

Raven, coldly:
Well, that's their own fault. Did anyone force them to make their little love nests on our fucking campus? No.

Me:
Oh. That's true, I guess, only—

Katie:
Ex
cuse
me, but I don't think we asked for your opinion. So if you don't mind … ?

By ten, I was ready to throw myself over a cliff. Here I was supposed to be strutting my stuff, and my stuff was utterly pathetic. Hell, had the Bitches wanted to show how unfit I was for the whole popularity game, they couldn't have picked a better way.

I even made a fool of myself in front of Nate Solomon, a senior I'd had a secret crush on since before the school year started. Nate lived next door to Phil, and all summer long I'd gotten to admire him from Phil's backyard. Polishing the hood of his pickup. Buffing the fenders with his T-shirt, which he'd have conveniently taken off. His arms were such boy arms, strong and muscular. Sometimes I got so mesmerized that I lost track of Phil altogether.

“Janie,” Phil would say. “
Janie
. Anyone there?”

“Ooo, sorry,” I'd say, “I just got distracted.” I'd flash Phil my most charming smile. “What was that again?”

So when I spotted Nate shuffling through CDs by Kyle's stereo, my heart whomped so hard I thought I would be sick.
This is your chance
, I coached myself.
This is your only, only chance.
I swallowed and made myself step forward.

“Um, hi,” I said.

His eyes flicked over me. He grunted.

“So … picking out some music?” I blushed the second I said
it, because duh, what else did I think he was doing? Strumming a banjo? But it didn't matter, because his attention had already slid elsewhere.

“Ryan!” he called, holding one CD aloft. “Ice bonus, man!”

He brushed past me on the way to the CD player and didn't notice as he knocked my shoulder, because I was absolutely invisible.

Humiliated, I slunk to the kitchen. The tile counters and the top of the island were cluttered with plastic cups and half-f wineglasses, but there were no actual people in the room. It was a party-free zone, at least for the moment. I bit my lip, then crossed to the far side of the island. I slid down behind it, bringing my knees to my chest as my butt reached the floor. I was eye level with the cabinets under the sink. A lone blue M&M rested on the floor by a piece of fluff.

I exhaled. All that was left of my mojito were small ovals of ice, and I sucked a piece into my mouth. I let it drift about my tongue, then leaned slightly forward and let it slip out. I swirled my glass until I couldn't distinguish it from the others.

In the living room, someone shrieked and said, “Turn that thing off! I look terrible!”

“Ah, shut up. You know you love it,” a guy said. Stuart Hill, who was apparently making the rounds with his video camera again. I'd seen him with it earlier in the night.

The tension in my chest started to loosen—the party people were
there
, and I was
here
—and I had the thought that I could
stay hidden behind the island forever. It was clean. It was dry. It was actually quite comfortable. I raised my glass and slurped in another ice oval, then choked as I heard feet pad across the tiled kitchen floor.

“—in common at all,” a girl was saying. “I'm just so tired of it.”

I swallowed the ice and drew my knees up as far as I could.

There was the hiss of an opened pop top. A second girl said, “Tell me about it. All I think about is what a good girlfriend I would be, if only I got the chance.”

I breathed as quietly as I could. The first girl was Sukie Karing, I was pretty sure. And the second girl was Pammy Varlotta, another junior. I could tell by the way she pronounced her Ts, as if her tongue was too big for her mouth.

“I mean, seriously,” Pammy went on. “How sad is that?”

A third girl laughed. Even before she spoke, I knew who it was.

“Dead sad,” Bitsy said. “If you want a boy, Pammy, you've got to go out and get yourself one. None of this lurking about feeling sorry for yourself.”

Shit, shit, shit.
Sweat beaded the nape of my neck.

“Easy for you to say,” Sukie said. “You've got boys drooling over you every time you turn around.”

“Well …” Bitsy said.

“But she's with Brad now,” Pammy interjected. “Right, Bitsy? And I'm
so
happy for you. You're such a great couple.”

“Yeah? You don't think he's a bit flash?” Bitsy asked.

“Oh my god, he's the hottest guy in school,” Pammy said. “Not to mention the fact that he totally worships you.”

Even in my nervousness, I gagged at what a suck-up Pammy was. On the other hand, if I were in her place, I'd probably be licking Bitsy's boots, too. If Bitsy were wearing boots. If it were a shoe-possible environment.

“There is that,” Bitsy said. A chip bag rustled. “I suppose I'll keep him a little longer.”

“Good, because we don't want you single again, that's for sure,” Pammy said. She giggled. “Little Miss Greedy-Guts, stealing all the boys away.”

There was a pause. Then, “Little Miss Greedy-Guts?”

“She didn't mean it like that,” Sukie interjected. “Right, Pammy? She just meant—”

“What if I want to be Little Miss Greedy-Guts?” Bitsy asked, dangerously smooth.

Pammy's giggles dried up. “I just … it's just that you're so beautiful and funny, and your accent is so adorable. None of us has a chance when you're around.”

“Maybe none of you has a chance because you're whining slags,” Bitsy said.

Sukie tried to laugh. “Bitsy. Don't be like that.”

“Like what? Honest?”

A drip of condensation rolled down my glass.

“Every boy in the school wants to go out with you, that's all,” Sukie said. “I mean, not that it's your fault.”

“Of course not!” Pammy chimed in. “I never meant it was your
fault
. Oh my god, is that what you thought?”

“It's just a fact of life,” Sukie went on. “You think Payton would be going out with me if he thought he had a shot with you?”

“And Ryan Overturf,” Pammy said. “Last year he wouldn't give me a second look. He was all Bitsy, Bitsy, Bitsy. But now that you're with Brad—”

“Enough,” Bitsy commanded.

They both shut up. I gripped my glass.

But when Bitsy spoke again, it was in a new voice. “So, Pammy. You fancy Ryan, do you?”

“I don't know,” Pammy said hesitantly. “Maybe? And I think—I mean, probably not—but sometimes I think maybe he likes me back?”

“Oh, he likes you. No worries there, luv.”

Now Bitsy was being
too
nice. It worried me.

“Really?” Pammy said. Her hopefulness was excruciating “Has he … has he said something to you?”

Bitsy laughed. “Not just to me. To anyone who'll listen.”

“Bitsy …” Sukie said.

Pammy started hyperventilating. “Oh my god, oh my god. You have to tell me!”

“Well, you do know he drives by your house practically every night, right?” Bitsy said. “Sometimes he parks at the corner and just moons up at the house.”

“He does?”

“He says you leave your curtains open, you sly dog. He says it's quite the peep show.”

“He says—what?”

“Says you've got quite good form, really. The whole innocent school girl act, prancing before the mirror in matching bra and panties …”

Pammy's confusion made her stupid. “
What?
I don't … I swear, I never—”

“Look, pet, I think it's brilliant,” Bitsy soothed. “Give him a taste and make him beg for more. Him and all the other blokes he's told.”