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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "The Exit of One Chelsea ..."  "Oh, that's great, Yumi!" you squeal as the girl comes out of a triple somersault with a twist. "I think you're finally getting the hang of it!" Oh! Ack! You flinch as Yumi gives you a look. That came out exactly wrong. "What I meant was—" you stammer. "Oh, never mind. That was awesome, that's what I meant!" You cover your face with your hands and take several deep breaths before you pass out from the stress of being nice. It would be too much to say that you woke this morning—this Wednesday, this "pivot of the week"—feeling like "a new girl." But there was a smile on your lips and a song in your heart as you got ready for school. Today's the first of October! you marveled as you tore a new sheet off the calendar. The first day of the rest of my new life! My new life being a new Chelsea Cooper! You're not sure what mental alchemy transmuted your purposes last night as you slept. You sincerely hope it wasn't only a desire to spite Caleb by showing that you are so better than Chelsea! But as you showered and dressed and primped in the mirror, turning this way and that to admire the slinky peach blouse and the tight-fitting distressed jeans that you'd chosen to wear today, you wrapped yourself just as tightly in a new determination. This is an awesome body! And this is an awesome girl! And I know I can be just awesome as her! After you end practice—extra early, so the girls can have extra time to get ready for classes—you gather them all in a circle. "Listen," you tell them, "I want you to know I've been doing some really hard thinking these last few days. Some real soul-searching. This is for all of us going to be our last year at Westside. Our last year—" You sniffle a little. "In high school! And I know we all want it to be awesome. That, you know, is how come I've been pushing everyone so hard." There are stony looks all around. Except from Maria, the space cadet, who is staring off into nothingness. "But I also realized that I've been too much of a— Uh. Well, what my grandmother would call a 'Negative Nelly'. I've been pushing you all, but I haven't been supporting you. And you know the first principle of the cheerleader pyramid!" You scrunch your face up into a smile you hope doesn't look too demented. "The support at the bottom is ten times more important than the star at the top!" To your memory, no one has ever said anything remotely that cheesy and stupid. "So I want you all to know that I really do support you. I'm fighting for you. And if I fight too hard sometimes— Well, uh—" You don't know how to finish that sentence. "Well, just come and talk to me. My locker door is always open!" Oh, sweet Jesus, you think. Maybe I should have written this out and practiced it first! The expressions around the circle—Cindy Vredenburg, Yumi Saito, Lin Pol, the Garner sisters; Kendra and Gloria and Maria; and Michelle Estrich—vary from the sullenly hostile (Yumi) to the bewildered (Kendra) to the blankly incredulous (Cindy). Only Maria seems unfazed. But then, Maria probably hasn't been listening since you said "Good morning" to her at the start of class. Well, after everything that Chelsea has ever done to terrorize her squad mates, you can't expect them to tumble all over you like kitten and puppies with love and gratitude. This is going to be a month at least of rebuilding, you tell yourself through gritted teeth as you lead everyone back to the changing room. Rebuilding trust, rebuilding friendship, rebuilding camaraderie, rebuilding the roster— You wince at the thought. I still need to get rid of Michelle. She's just not hacking it. And how will that look after the speech I just gave? Even worse: It might give Cindy the opening she needs to take over the squad! Down, girl! you chide yourself. Don't be paranoid. Just because you've always had the knives out for her doesn't mean she's got them out for you. Except you know that she does. Kendra and Gloria have brought you plenty of well-substantiated rumor to the effect that Cindy still harbors hot and thirsty ambitions to displace you as the captain of the squad. You sigh as you start to disrobe—so distracted that you forget to look around to secretly ogle the other girls. A month of rebuilding, you repeat to yourself. Rebuilding trust, rebuilding friendship, rebuilding camaraderie ... * * * * * You're going to flunk French for Reading Knowledge if you keep skipping. But you're so anxious to get the new month off to the right start that you duck it anyway to look for Eva again in the school library. She goes very white when she looks up from her phone to see you bearing down on her. She thrusts the phone into her bag and zips it up. So I guess my ears should be burning. That's what you come very close to snapping at her, for she could hardly make it more obvious that you were the subject of a text exchange. But you force a smile to your face. "Hey," you chirp as you settle in next her. (Today, you are careful to set your bag under the table instead of dropping it atop her things.) "So, how did my little speech go over this morning? You know, about us all pulling together, and—?" It's very hard to form the next few words. It's like Chelsea's throat is incapable of molding them. "And me being a better team captain." "Um." Eva's eyes wander in their sockets. "Went fine. I guess." "Because I'm really serious about it. Oh God." You cover your face, and sniffle a little into your fingers. "This whole thing with Gordon. It's really made me take stock of things!" You peep out from between your fingers. Eva is looking at you like you're a crazy person. "Look, I'm serious," you continue, and drop your hands into your lap. "It's made me take stock of the squad. My friends. My school work. Boys." You pause. "The right kind of guy for me. And the right kind of guy for—" You gulp. "My friends." Eva's expression goes very tight. "I've been thinking about how hard I came down on you and Caleb," you say. "The idea of you and Caleb, I mean. God, I was such a scrunt about that! If you and him— Please tell me, Eva, that you won't pay any attention to what I said! I'm so sorry about it!" Eva makes a face. "It's okay, Chelsea. There wasn't going to be anything between us anyway." Why, you lying, two-faced succubus! you think. I knock myself out on a couple of dates with you, and you play nice, and then you turn around and tell Chelsea that—! You force a pale smile onto your face. "Well, that's— Actually, I'm kind of sorry to hear that." A panicked look comes onto Eva's face. "I mean, it's up to you. I can't run your life. God, after the mess I made of things, you'd be totally right to slap me in the face!" But please don't! "But I was thinking—" You glance around, then cozy up to Eva. She pulls away, like you're a giant, hairy spider. "It seems to me," you murmur, "that there's altogether too many jockstraps hanging around us. You know. The varsity guys just seem to think that we're made for them!" It's a bizarre remark. Chelsea was dating Gordon, and Cindy is dating Seth Javits. Otherwise, except for Kendra and Gloria, who take turns sucking off Steve so that he'll be nice to Chelsea, none of the cheerleaders have a boyfriend. "I think it would just be nice," you primly conclude, "if some of us were dating guys with giant, throbbing brains instead of giant, throbbing dicks. You know, someone like your friend Caleb." Oh, ouch. There I go again! Implying that Caleb hasn't got a dick. "He's just a friend," Eva says. Now she sounds annoyed. "I know, Eva! But you know, there are other guys who fit the bill. Guys like—" You don't know why you're babbling this way, except to compensate for Monday. But you glance past Eva, at the table where Philip Fairfax is frowning into a math book. "Like him," you whisper to her. "Like who?" "Shh! Don't look. Philip. Fairfax." You giggle. "Don't you think he's adorable?" What's left of the color in Eva's face goes draining away. "And you've got a perfect excuse to ask him out, get him to notice you. I mean, you're never going to pass Calculus if you don't get some tutoring!" Christ! And there you go, putting your foot in your mouth again ... * * * * * Patterson wants to meet you in front of the loft again before lunch. He's waiting, and he snaps his fingers at you while you're still approaching. "The key, Chelsea." "You gave me to the end of the week!" "Gordon's not coming back, and even if he does, he's not bringing you with him." His snaps his fingers again. "The key." You glare. "I don't have it with me!" you lie. His eyes freeze. He leans over you. "If you don't hand it over first thing in the morning, I am going to Coach Brooks. You don't want him asking you for it." Bastard, you fume as you march away. It's pointless trying to make this shit hole a better place with fuckers like Steve running it! The sequel to the thought almost trips you up: Maybe I could get rid of him—of all the other assholes!—the same way I got rid of Chelsea! Next: "Scheming Big" |
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