Rhymes With Witches

by Lauren Myracle

  “Dude!” cheered another guy.

  Nate’s throat was long and taut as he swallowed. When he lowered the can, Schlitz glistened on his upper lip.

  “Ice bonus,” Mike said. He strode to the bar and slapped Nate a high five.

  Nate wiped his mouth with his forearm, then checked to make sure I’d been watching.

  My skin warmed with excitement.

  But the best part of the evening came later, after most everybody had left or passed out. Mary Bryan steered me to the back entrance of the warehouse, and we went outside into the cool night air. Keisha and Bitsy, too. Just the four of us. An iron ladder scaled the brick wall, and I followed Mary Bryan when she started climbing.

  “Ooo, I can see Jane’s knickers,” Bitsy said as she climbed up behind me.

  “Shut up,” I said. Me, to Bitsy. I was heady with glory.

  On top of the roof, we leaned against the metal housing of the air conditioning unit and reviewed the evening. Trucks rumbled by on a nearby thoroughfare, their headlights jogging over street signs. Occasionally they made the building shake.

  “That was a very good time,” Mary Bryan said.

  Keisha wrapped L’Kardos’s jacket more tightly around herself. “L’Kardos told me he loves me,” she said softly.

  “Keisha!” Mary Bryan squealed. She gasped and grabbed Keisha’s hand.

  “Took him long enough,” Bitsy grumbled. But she reached over and wiggled Keisha’s knee. “That’s fantastic, Keisha. He’s dead yummy, and you know I don’t lie.”

  “That’s great,” I said shyly. I thought about Nate’s strong arms, but kept them to myself. “He seems really nice.”

  Keisha smiled. She rested her cheek against his jacket.

  “Well, nothing nearly so exciting for me,” Bitsy said. “Keisha gets a big romantic moment, and what do I get? A grope on the sofa and Brad’s tongue down my throat.”

  “Ew,” Mary Bryan said.

  “Not to worry. I gave him the boot.”

  “Bitsy!” Mary Bryan exclaimed. “Are you serious?”

  Bitsy shrugged. “I’m well shot of him. Anyway, I’ve got my sights on Ryan Overturf. Talk about yummy. Did you see those trousers he had on?”

  “‘Those trousers’?” Mary Bryan teased. “Anyway, no, because Pammy Varlotta was using them as a cushion for most of the night. I’d say you’ve got your work cut out for you, Bitsy my luv.”

  Bitsy snorted. “What a butter cow.”

  “Only Ryan really does seem to like her.” Mary Bryan giggled. “Guess you’ll have to wear a retainer and talk with a lisp like she does. Apparently that’s what he goes for.”

  “Is that why she talks like that?” I asked. “She has a retainer?”

  “It’s on the inside of her teeth so you can’t see it,” Mary Bryan explained.

  “Don’t be mean,” Keisha said.

  “What? Saying someone has a retainer isn’t being mean.”

  Bitsy stretched, an expansive, hands-over-head movement that pulled her top up to reveal her tummy. She let her arms flop down. “I think I’m up to the challenge of Pammy Varlotta. If not, there are always other ways.”

  “No,” Mary Bryan said, feigning shock. “Don’t tell me you’d break your fixation just for the sake of Pammy.”

  “As I said, I highly doubt it will come to that.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked. “What fixation?”

  “More like vendetta,” Mary Bryan said.

  “Could we please not ruin the evening?” Keisha said.

  “And did you hear?” Bitsy went on. “Stuart’s on probation from football, all because of some ridiculous complaint she made. Pompous slag.”

  “Who?” I said, totally confused. “Pammy?” Then something clicked in my brain. Stuart, complaint, pompous slag … “Wait a minute. Are you talking about Camilla Jones? How Stuart harassed her that one day?”

  “What do you know about it?” Bitsy asked.

  I should have been warned by her tone. Instead, I was glad of the chance to contribute. “Well, not a lot,” I said, hoping to sound offhand. “But I was there, that’s all. And I went with Camilla to tell Mr. Van Housen.”

  “So you ratted Stuart out?” Bitsy said.

  My stomach dropped. I looked from face to face.

  “Um … do you guys not like Camilla?” I asked. “Is there something I’m missing here?”

  There was a pulse in the air. Mary Bryan’s eyes flew to Bitsy, and then she quick-laughed and said, “What? We like Camilla.”

  “Except when she’s a right little prat,” Bitsy said. “Which is always.” To Mary Bryan she said, “You brought it up, so don’t act all innocent.”

  “Hey, don’t put it on me!” Mary Bryan protested. “I have no problem with Camilla. I like her fine.”

  Clearly, she didn’t. Clearly, none of them did. Which baffled me, given Camilla’s loner status. I was surprised they even knew who she was.

  Then I thought about Camilla some more, how she was the one person who didn’t worship the Bitches like everyone else. Was that what this was about?

  “Anyway, I didn’t rat Stuart out,” I said. “I just, you know, said that Camilla was telling the truth. That Stuart did what she said he did.”

  Bitsy made a derisive noise. Mary Bryan ducked her head and fiddled with her hair. Keisha gazed at the rooftop, but as usual, she didn’t speak.

  “Camilla was just standing there,” I explained. “He pinned her against a locker and …” I looked at each of them. “Come on, you guys. It was bad.”

  Mary Bryan lifted her head. “It’s just … well, you were kind of right. Bitsy’s not really one of Camilla’s fans.”

  I held out my hands, palms forward. “Neither am I, I swear!” I said. As the words spilled from my mouth, I realized they were true. Until this very moment I’d thought I liked Camilla. Sort of. I’d admired her, at any rate, for being true to herself in a dog-eat-dog world. Only now that admiration was gone, replaced with … ickiness.

  Just like the ickiness I’d felt toward Alicia, that day in the cafeteria.

  Oh, shit.

  “Did one of you guys …” I started. “Bitsy, did you …”

  Bitsy arched one eyebrow.

  I decided I didn’t have a question after all. I had a heart-pounding feeling of having done something wrong, although I hadn’t, so I pushed forward with my story. “Anyway, Mr. Van Housen pretty much blew her off. He acted like she was a huge nuisance.”

  “Yeah?” Mary Bryan said. She turned to Bitsy, like, Did you hear? Isn’t that great?

  I tried to do better. “She was all whiney, like, ‘Wah, wah, wah, poor me.’ And Mr. Van Housen was all, ‘All right, girls. The matter will be taken care of appropriately.’”

  “She’s a—what’d you call your friend the other day?” Bitsy said. “A toad. A slimy, bug-eyed toad.”

  “I know,” I said. “I mean, if she would just … be less aloof or something. But she doesn’t even make the effort.”

  Bitsy’s mouth twisted. “Everything she gets, she deserves.”

  Mary Bryan stared at her fingernails.

  “Next time stay out of her way, right?” Bitsy said.

  I nodded. “Sure. Of course.”

  “And if she gives you any problems, come to me. I’ll make sure she doesn’t bother you.”

  “Leave it alone, Bitsy,” Keisha said.

  “I’ll leave it alone when I want to leave it alone,” Bitsy shot back.

  “Guys,” Mary Bryan pleaded.

  “What, now you’re going to get on my back, too?”

  “Just … stop. Okay? This is Jane’s night. We don’t want to spoil it with things that don’t even matter.”

  Mary Bryan turned to me and smiled unconvincingly. “Did you have fun? Was it everything you thought it would be?”

  “Um … yeah. It was awesome.”

  “For real?” Mary Bryan said. “You’re not just saying that?”

  I pushed Camil
la from my mind, because despite it all, the glow from the night still remained. I wasn’t going to let her ruin it. “Well, I don’t want to sound stupid, but …”

  “You won’t sound stupid.”

  I blew out my breath. “It was just really nice, because I think everyone liked me. Even when I acted like an idiot.”

  No one spoke. It was as if they were letting my words float down around them.

  “Yeah,” Keisha said at last. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

  Mary Bryan leaned against me. She rested her head on my shoulder.

  “Well done, you,” Bitsy said, her venom gone. “Well done, our Jane.”

  I dreamed about second grade, when Mom signed me up to be a Junior Bird Girl. We made thumbprint owls and microwaved s’mores. On the last day, to symbolize flying from the nest, we were blindfolded one by one and led into a circle of fellow Bird Girls. I folded my arms over my chest as I was passed from girl to girl, feeling their small hands on my shoulders and back. First they whispered bad things about me: You’re too skinny. You smile too much. You suck at math. Then came the good things: I like your barrettes. You’re kind to animals. Your hair is so soft. I remembered their fluttering touch. The sensation of taking flight.

  “Hey, Janie-girl. What’s up?”

  It was Phil, calling way too early the next morning. I held the phone away as I stretched, then brought it back to my ear.

  “Hey, Phil,” I said. “You woke me up.”

  “Want to go to Memorial? Have a picnic?”

  “Right now?”

  “It’s eleven o’clock. I’m starving.”

  “You woke me up.”

  “Fifteen minutes, then?”

  I rubbed my hand over my face. I arched my back and pointed my toes. “Make it twenty.”

  I brought the milk. He brought the Krispy Kremes. Breakfast of champions—or in this case lunch.

  “So what’s kickin’?” he asked, tossing me a still-warm doughnut.

  “‘What’s kickin’?’” I repeated.

  “Nate Solomon said he saw you last night at some fancy party.” He made his voice sound mocking. “He said you were hot.”

  I tried to hide my reaction, but I couldn’t help smiling.

  “For real? Are you shitting me?”

  “He was like, ‘Sorry you weren’t there, dude. Sorry you’re such a loser, dude.’”

  “Oh, he did not. I think Nate is very nice.”

  “Apparently he feels the same way,” Phil said. “You’re the flavor of the season. You’re the new black.”

  “Please.”

  “Seriously, what’s the story?” He licked a smear of glaze from his thumb, pretending he didn’t really care, but his eyes gave him away.

  I tried to calm down, although inside I was jumping all around. But Phil was not the person to share it with.

  “Well … I guess it’s because I’m a Bitch,” I said.

  “No you’re not. Don’t even say that.”

  “No,” I said. “I’m a Bitch, like Keisha and Bitsy and Mary Bryan. They ended up picking me after all.” I grinned, filled with goofy joy. “Last night was my coming-out party.”

  “Oh,” Phil said. He didn’t seem terribly happy. “But in reality you’re still plain old Janie. Right?”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “No, I just meant that Nate’s never drooled over you before. So why should he drool over you now?”

  “You’re kind of digging yourself into a hole, pardner.”

  “He’s never even mentioned you before.”

  I looked down, unsure how to proceed. We were coming close to talking about something that we really didn’t need to talk about, and I didn’t mean the whole mysterious popularity thing.

  I used my sneaker to nudge his high-top. His crappy, tattered high-top. “Come on. Aren’t you happy for me?”

  “I just don’t get why hanging out with Mary Bryan and Keisha and Bitsy would make such a difference.” He finished his milk and crushed the carton. “Why does it even matter who you hang out with?”

  Oh, Phil, I thought. You really mean that, don’t you?

  I decided to try a different tactic. I let my voice take on a playful tone and said, “Anyway, I’ve noticed you making new friends, too.” I raised my eyebrows. “Oz Spencer? Hmm? Does someone have a little bit of a crush on someone?”

  He looked at me as if I were nuts. “Oz? She’s in my physics class.”

  “She’s nice,” I said.

  “Yeah, I agree, but I don’t have a …” He sighed. “On Friday, Mr. Lesmeister made her tie a sweatshirt around her waist. You could see her thong because her pants were so low, and the guy behind her wasn’t getting any work done.”

  I thought of my failed thong attempt. At least Oz had the guts to go for the glory.

  “And were you that guy?” I teased.

  “No,” he said. “It was Matthew Lyons.”

  He seemed frustrated, and I felt bad. I let the joke go and flopped back on the quilt.

  He lay back beside me. His jeans, super dark like those a cowboy might wear, stretched alongside my just-the-right-bit-faded ones. We gazed at the sky.

  “Listen, Janie,” he said. “I am happy for you. I guess it’s just weird having all these other people figure out what I’ve always known.”

  I turned my head. “Phil, that is the nicest thing anybody’s ever said to me.”

  He nodded, like yeah, he knew. Then he said, “The Fall Fling’s coming up.”

  I got a nervous feeling in my stomach. “Yeah …”

  “You probably won’t want to now that you’re, you know, upper crust, but—”

  “Phil.”

  “You think you might want to go with me?”

  I blinked. On the one hand, no, I did not want to go with him. I wanted to go with Nate. Not that Nate had asked me, but he could. And now that I was a Bitch, he actually might. Which made me realize—holy shit. Phil had never asked me to anything like this before, so why now? Was he only asking me because I was a Bitch? Even if he didn’t know it, was that the deep-down reason?

  I didn’t like where that was going, and anyway, no. Phil was Phil. He liked me just for being me. As for Nate, well, crushing on him was one thing. The thought of making it real—or taking a step toward maybe making it real—was way too scary.

  A decision blossomed within me, and I knew it was the right thing to do. I faced Phil and was floored to see that he’d turned a bright, painful red.

  “Phil …” I began.

  He didn’t meet my eyes. “It wouldn’t have to mean anything.”

  “Well, duh. What I was going to say was sure. Let’s do it.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  I rolled over and gave him an awkward hug. Surprised, he hugged me back.

  plainjain: hey, mb. wazzup?

  bayBdoll: nmjc. u?

  plainjain: normal ol’ sunday. i’m avoiding homework and mom’s making fried chicken. mmm.

  bayBdoll: lucky u. sunday nite chez moi is pretty much fend-for-yourself nite. then again, so is every other nite.

  plainjain: ouch

  plainjain: wanna come here?

  bayBdoll: that’s ok, my brother said he’d make burritos. but thanks.

  plainjain: no prob

  plainjain: so i was kinda wondering what bitsy’s deal is. that is, if ur ok talking about it. if not, that’s totally fine.

  bayBdoll: about camilla, u mean?

  plainjain: yeah

  bayBdoll: well … it’s complicated.

  plainjain: oh

  bayBdoll: if i tell u, do u swear not to tell bitsy?

  plainjain: OF COURSE

  plainjain: it’s just that she seemed so pissed last nite, like totally out of the blue.

  bayBdoll: yeah, well, they have a long history.

  bayBdoll: camilla lives in bitsy’s neighborhood, did u know that?

  plainjain: really? i thought camilla was, like, poor.

  b
ayBdoll: u’d think so, with all her anti-establishment bullshit and those leotards she always wears. but no. she’s rich as sin. that’s not why bitsy hates her, tho.

  plainjain: then why?

  bayBdoll: cuz … ah, shit. cuz camilla saw something she wasn’t supposed to, over the summer.

  plainjain: did it have to do with

  plainjain: u know

  bayBdoll: what?

  bayBdoll: OH. no, not that. it was something personal.

  bayBdoll: look, i’m just gonna tell u, but like i said, u have to promise not to tell.

  plainjain: i promise. u know i do.

  bayBdoll: i’m serious. bitsy would kill me.

  plainjain: mary bryan, i swear i will never say a word.

  bayBdoll: bitsy’s dad took off, ok? he ran off with some floozy. and instead of telling bitsy to her face, he stuck a note on the windshield of her car. can u believe that?

  plainjain: omg, that’s terrible

  bayBdoll: only bitsy found the note before he left, and i guess she and her dad had this big scene in the driveway. bitsy lit into him for being such a bastard, and he gave back as good as he got. apparently he said all this stuff about not wanting kids in the first place and how he’d never signed on for changing the nappies of a 16 yr old.

  plainjain: jesus. and i thought MY dad was bad.

  bayBdoll: anyway, they were both pretty much shouting their heads off, from what bitsy told me.

  plainjain: and camilla heard?

  bayBdoll: and camilla heard.

  plainjain: crap

  bayBdoll: she’d walked over cuz of the noise, and bitsy spotted her at the end of the driveway. only here’s the worst thing. i guess by that point bitsy had moved from shouting to … well, groveling.

  plainjain: BITSY?

  bayBdoll: hard to imagine, isn’t it?

  plainjain: forget hard. try impossible. i didn’t think bitsy knew HOW to grovel.

  bayBdoll: well, “grovel” isn’t the word bitsy used, obviously, but that’s the sense i got. there were tears involved, i do know that.

  plainjain: how?

  bayBdoll: cuz when bitsy was telling me about it, her lips got all tight and she said, “but i DIDN’T cry. i NEVER cry.”

  plainjain: which of course means that she did

  plainjain: poor bitsy

  bayBdoll: so that’s the great drama. i would just steer clear of the whole camilla situation if i were u.