I could wear the necklace if I wanted to, and people would see it as a kitschy-cool. Soon every girl in school would have her first initial dangling from a cord. Or, more likely, they’d all have my first initial dangling from cords. An army of glittering Js.
Only that would be way too depressing.
I lowered the pendant onto my dresser. Sometimes I didn’t know which was worse: the possibility that Dad would keep sending these inane gifts, when all they did was remind me of what I didn’t have, or the possibility that one day he would stop.
Out of nowhere, a memory wormed in. Me, huddled naked in an empty bathtub, because I didn’t know how to work the faucets. I must have been about five, and usually Mom ran my bath for me. But that night, Dad was on duty. “You can do it,” he’d said, barely looking up from his magazine. “You’re a big girl.”
When he’d come to check on me half an hour later, still huddling naked in the empty tub, his face had caved in. “Oh, baby,” he’d said. “Why didn’t you call me?”
Remembering, the stupid familiar ache opened up inside me. Did Dad ever feel this ache? No, I didn’t think so, or he would be here. So if he didn’t care, why did I?
I opened my dresser drawer and scooped the necklace toward me, letting it fall in with the other Dad dross. Then I paused. Wait a minute, wait just a minute …
Lurl.
Yes. It was perfect.
Excitement swelled inside me. No more stealing, and Alicia would be free. And hey, thanks to Dad I had tons of crap I could give away. A piece of crap a week, no problem. Even non-crap if it came down to it. I could take the loss.
I snatched back the pendant and did a happy dance on my blue shag carpet, gyrating my hips. It lasted about a minute before I was hit with reality. Because they would have figured it out before, wouldn’t they? If it were possible to beat the system, wouldn’t Bitsy and Keisha and Mary Bryan all be offering up junk of their own?
Unless I was the only one smart enough to think of it. Unless they liked siphoning off other girls’ popularity—which in Bitsy’s case seemed almost certainly true.
Or maybe—aha—maybe they were putting their own lip balms and clippies on Lurl the Pearl’s desk. Maybe I wasn’t the only one to think of it; maybe I was just the last to think of it. And they were all cackling secretly to themselves as they waited for me to catch on. Well, hahaha, they wouldn’t be laughing for long.
Then the oh, shit feeling descended again as I realized the flaw in my logic. If the object I offered Lurl was mine, then it would be my popularity that would be siphoned off. And bestowed upon … me, as the object-giver? Which would mean I’d have the same amount of popularity as I’d started with, no more and no less. Which wasn’t so bad, really …
Except I wouldn’t have the bonus bit from Alicia anymore. I’d return to non-Bitch status, which would totally suck.
I lay back on my bed and groaned.
“Jane?” Mom called. “Everything all right?”
I popped up. Jesus, she was right outside my door. “Everything’s fine,” I said. “What are you doing?”
She pushed in and sat down beside me. “Hey, baby,” she said. She pulled me into a sideways hug. Recently she’d been very huggy. “Not to be nosy, but you’ve seemed kind of stressed the last couple of days. Anything bothering you?”
I relaxed against her, soaking in her Mom-ness. She smelled like leftover Chinese food. “Not really,” I said. “Just, you know, high school.”
“Hmm. Yeah. I remember those days.” She combed my hair with her fingers. “Want to talk about it?”
“Nah.”
“Okay.” She held me for a little while longer, then gave me a parting squeeze and stood up. “You’re a good person, Jane. I love you more and more each day.”
I felt a pang.
“Night, doll.” She pulled the door shut behind her.
I flopped back on the bed. The pendant, still in my hand, had grown warm from my touch.
Screw it, I decided. It wasn’t really mine; I’d had it for less than a day. Tomorrow I’d give it to Lurl, and whatever would happen would happen.
As I was brushing my teeth, it came to me that I no longer doubted that all this was real. The offerings, the siphoning of power. Lurl. No longer was I saying to myself, “Oh, baloney. You don’t really believe this stuff, do you?” Because I did believe, I guess ever since that moment in geometry when the world slipped to the side. When I saw how just a shimmering shadow separated what could and couldn’t be.
My toothbrush stilled as I thought again of Sandy, whose need for affirmation ran too deep. Who died for her sins. But that would never happen to me, because I wasn’t like that. Maybe I used to be, but not anymore.
I brushed hard to combat the sudden sourness of my breath. When I spit, my toothpaste was tinged with blood.
“Um, no,” Keisha said. She dangled the J from her slender fingers, then yanked upward on the cord, caught the pendant in her palm, and shoved the whole thing into the pocket of my denim jacket.
“Not cool,” she said as I stumbled backward. “Lurl told me you put it on her desk, trying to pass it off as a proper offering. Did you honestly think she wouldn’t know?”
“I just thought … I mean, I was only—”
Keisha waved her hand. “Don’t.”
I knew I was bright red, because I could feel the heat in my face. Being scolded by Keisha was horrible, worse by far than if it were Mary Bryan or even Bitsy.
Keisha walked farther away from Hamilton Hall, indicating with a head jerk that I was to follow. She stepped around a tabby cat basking in the sun. It regarded us with indolent amber eyes. When we were clearly, absolutely alone, she said, “It’s been a week, Jane. You’re neglecting your responsibilities.”
“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just …” I knew that nothing I could say would make it better. “I don’t like that part.”
She put her hands on her hips. “What part?”
My voice went even tinier. “The stealing.”
The look Keisha flashed me was wounded as well as pissed, as if I’d been incredibly tacky to mention it.
“It’s the way it works,” she said in clipped tones. “For one to rise, another must fall.”
“But why? Why can’t we just rise, and everybody else can stay where they are? I wouldn’t care!”
“And you think I would?” Keisha demanded. She glared at me, then visibly pulled herself back. When she exhaled, her nostrils flared. “Say you’ve taken a math test. Or an English test, since you love books so much. And you get a hundred. You’re psyched, right? ‘Mom, I got a hundred! I got the highest grade in the class!’” She raised her eyebrows. “But say everybody else gets a hundred, too. Are you still as proud?”
“Of course,” I said stubbornly. “I’d still have my A.”
“Bullshit. You like your As because other people get Cs. Because that means you’re smarter than they are. Better than they are.”
“I don’t think I’m better than anyone.”
“Then you’re an idiot.”
Behind us, kids ambled out of Hamilton on the way to their next class. Two girls giggled loudly from the other side of the quad.
“I’m not saying it’s fair,” Keisha said. “But life isn’t fair. Some people are boring and stupid no matter how you cut it. You can try to make conversation with them all day, and they’re still boring and stupid.”
“So, what? They should be shot?”
“Yeah, they should be shot,” she said sarcastically. “Steal a barrette, shoot them in the head—what’s the difference?”
Keisha’s cell phone jingled. Her eyes flew to mine.
I held out my hands, like, Hey, it’s not me calling you.
She dug for her phone. Turning her body from mine, she muttered, “This better be important. I’m at school.”
I walked a couple of feet away and feigned interest in the giggling girls on the quad. By the sound of it, they were pretending to be dinosaurs.
“Aaaah-roooo!” one bellowed, dipping her voice way down and then raising it up into her higher register. “Aaaah-roooo!”
“No,” Keisha said. “I told you, six o’clock.”
“Mmmm-waaaah!” the other dinosaur girl responded.
Keisha hunched her shoulders and put her hand up to her ear. “Call your sponsor,” she said, raising her voice over the noise. “Call your sponsor.” She paced in a tight circle. “Fine, I’ll be there. I said I would, all right? I have to go, Mom. I’ve got class.”
She hit the end button.
“Mmraah-wah-oooo!” trumpeted girl number one.
Keisha scowled. “What the hell are they doing?”
“I have no idea. Pretending to be dinosaurs?”
Her scowl deepened. She looked at me, and she didn’t have to say it.
“Maybe it’s for a play,” I said feebly.
Keisha strode back toward Hamilton. “You’re one of the lucky ones, Jane. Don’t blow it.”
I hurried to catch up with her. “Just one quick thing.”
She didn’t stop. “What?”
“Why did you really pick me? The truth.”
Now she stopped. She turned around. “Because you were broken. Just like us.”
Bitsy snuck up on me in the library, where I’d gone to muddle things out. Because what did Keisha mean, “broken”? My thoughts flitted again to Sandy’s neediness—was that the kind of “broken” she meant? But in my case Keisha had spoken in past tense, as in I used to be broken but now was fixed. I thought of that gospel song Mom sang when she did laundry: I once was lost, but now am found. Was blind but now I see.
“Amazing Grace.”
Was that how it was for me?
“Boo,” Bitsy said.
I jumped.
“Ha,” she said. “Gotcha.” She came around the back of my chair and lounged against the work surface of the carrel. Her Powerpuff Girls shirt hugged her body.
“What’s up?” I said, trying my best to act cool. “Have you come to yell at me?”
“Pardon?”
I swallowed. This was the first time I’d seen Bitsy since Anna Maria and Debbie had tormented Camilla during PE, and it made me feel weird. I kind of wanted to talk to Bitsy about it, but at the same time I kind of really didn’t.
“Keisha got all mad at me about the Lurl thing,” I said. “She was like, ‘You’re neglecting your responsibilities. You’re letting us down.’”
“And right she is,” Bitsy said. “Trying to pass off your own necklace as someone else’s, you poor sod. Think no one’s tried that one before?”
I looked at her from under my bangs.
“Bet you about wet your pants putting it on Lurl’s desk, too. And now you have to do it all over again. Life’s a bitch, eh?”
Was she teasing me? I got the strangest feeling she was teasing me.
“I don’t want everyone to hate me,” I said. “I didn’t mean to let you guys down.”
“I know, luv,” Bitsy said. “And that’s why I’ve decided to help you out.” She fished into the pocket of her jeans. She drew out a brown bobby pin. “Here.”
I looked at Bitsy, then back at the bobby pin.
“Don’t go getting used to it,” Bitsy said. “I’m not going to bail you out every time.”
I gazed at the bobby pin’s brown ridges. Finally I said, “But … I’m not the one who took it.”
Bitsy tilted her hand, and the bobby pin dropped to the floor. She lifted her eyebrows.
“Whose is it?” I asked.
“No one’s. Not your darling Alicia’s, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Still, I hesitated.
“Fine. If you don’t want it—”
“No, I do,” I said. I bent to retrieve it, my face at Bitsy’s shoes. Strappy black sandals, even though fall was officially upon us. A silver ring on her second toe.
“Brilliant,” Bitsy said. “Lurl will be so pleased.”
On the way to Lurl’s office, I spotted Alicia trailing out of her geometry class. The other kids strolled out in groups of two or three, chatting and laughing, and then there was Alicia, all alone. I knew in my gut that I should go talk to her, but I didn’t want to. Not the right time, I told myself.
Except that unfortunately, she’d spotted me, too. “Jane!” she called.
I walked faster, eyes straight ahead, then gave up when she touched my shoulder.
“Jane,” she said. “Jesus, are you deaf?”
I turned around, trying to tell myself that the yuck factor I felt didn’t have to do with her. I was in a hurry and she was interrupting me, that’s all.
“Alicia!” I said. “Hi! So how’d it go Saturday night? With Tommy. Oh my god, I’ve been dying to hear.”
Alicia narrowed her eyes, her black hair lanky around her face. “Yeah, which is why you’ve been avoiding me all week.”
“I haven’t been avoiding you. Why would you even say that?”
“Uh, because it’s true?”
My smile cracked. If I were in Alicia’s shoes, I would at least try to be nice. “So are you going to tell me about Tommy or not?”
“He canceled,” Alicia said. “An hour before he was supposed to pick me up.”
What cheerfulness I’d mustered crumbled to dust. It was like a lead weight dropping down inside me, and not only because I was sad for Alicia—if I even was sad for Alicia. It was more the tiredness of realizing, Oh shit, now I have to deal with this on top of everything else.
“That sucks. What a jerk.”
“He said he’d gotten the date wrong. He was like, ‘But let’s do something another time, okay?’”
“Oh, well that’s different.”
“How? He totally blew me off.”
“He didn’t blow you off. He just, you know, rescheduled.”
She made an extremely irritating face. “Do you have any idea how fake you sound? I’m serious. Do you?”
I gritted my teeth. If she wanted to be this way, fine. It wasn’t my job to coddle her. “Look,” I said. “I’m trying to be supportive, but it’s hard when you’re so nasty all the time. You ever think maybe that’s why Tommy canceled?”
She flinched. Like she was honestly surprised, when here she was acting like a grade-A prat, as Bitsy would say.
Then her eyes went small. “Screw you,” she said.
“Screw me?” I said. “Screw you! All I’ve done is try to help!”
She poked my chest. “Rae was right. You’ve lost your soul.”
Anger flamed through me—anger and fear and other things, too. But instead of retaliating, I stuffed it down and walked away.
Keisha was right. Some people were boring and stupid no matter how you cut it.
Still, I couldn’t quite catch my breath. I almost wanted to go back and shove her, spill her backpack again so I could snatch a pen. Or another tub of her pointless lip balm, because who would ever want to kiss those lying lips? No one, that’s who.
She was the toad. Not me.
I put the bobby pin on Lurl’s desk, closing my mind to whom it might have once belonged. It was easier than I thought. And an hour later, as I gathered my books from my locker, I felt the spine-tingling surge that meant Lurl had claimed the offering. It filled me up and left me breathless.
That evening, after an impromptu Through the Looking Glass theme party at Sukie Karing’s house, I played back a sad-sack message from Alicia.
“Um, hi, it’s me,” she said in a snivelly voice. “I hope you’re not mad at me. I know I was really rude, but I didn’t mean to be. It’s just, what you said, it really …” She sniffed. “Anyway, I’m sorry. That’s all I wanted to say.”
The first message was followed by a second. This time I could hear Rae in the background.
“Um, hi again,” Alicia said.
Then Rae: “Tell her, Alicia. Just say the words on the paper.”
“I can’t!”
“Say it!”
Alicia came back
full strength, as if she’d removed her hand from the part you speak into. “Um, sorry, Jane. That was just Rae. Anyway—”
“She hates your guts! She thinks you’re scum!”
“No, I don’t! Oh my god, Rae! Jane, I swear—”
Her voice cut off, and the machine beeped, announcing the third and last message.
“This is Rae. My sister hates your guts, even if she’s too afraid to admit it. And I do, too. Everyone does. They may not act like it on the surface, but we all know that what’s on the surface is a big, fat lie. So take that and shove it up your bunghole, you lying bitch!”
Three final beeps, then silence, except for the ticking of the oven clock.
“Psychotic freak,” I whispered.
My legs felt shaky. I hit “delete.”
Saturday night was casino night at Stuart Hill’s house. Stuart’s probation was over, and to celebrate, his parents had hired a croupier to run a blackjack table in their living room. A roulette wheel clicked and whirred in the alcove, and in the oversized den, three showgirls danced in Cleopatra headdresses and black sequined fantails.
Bitsy smooched with Ryan Overturf by the slot machine in the entry hall, then tired of his fawning and called for a Bitches meeting away from any nosy parkers. I was reluctant to leave the bar, where Nate had been showing me the impossibility of burning a cigarette hole on a twenty dollar bill laid flat against his arm. Apparently the flesh behind the bill took the heat, and sure enough, when Nate removed the bill, I could see a small red blister rising on his skin. I would have kissed it to make it better, but duty called. I trailed the others out to the patio.
“It’s ten o’clock, and already I’m knackered,” Bitsy complained.
“What about your new flame Ryan?” Mary Bryan asked. “You seemed happy enough five minutes ago.”
“Five minutes ago he hadn’t yet confessed his undying love for me,” Bitsy said. “‘Be still my heart’—he actually said those very words! Swooning about like an idiot, saying it was a dream come true. Bloody nightmare, I say!”
Rhymes With Witches Page 12
