Accidentally Evil

by Lara Chapman

  Or I can start right now. I can start being the person I was destined to be. A leader.

  I toss the uneaten yogurt into the trash can and walk back to the buffet. Zena and Kendall are picking over the fruit and Danish left on the buffet. They’re talking about me. Fury builds inside me as I listen to Kendall say all the things she’s always said about me.

  “She’s useless. Everything she does is just . . . stupid. I’m telling you, this whole ‘competition’ is going to be a joke.”

  I step closer to the pair, and they turn around, surprised to see me but not embarrassed to be caught talking about me. That only fuels my anger more.

  “Forget something?” Kendall asks, like she’s happy to see me, like we aren’t mortal enemies.

  I stand strong, will my knees to stop shaking. And I give Kendall a smile.

  “I did, actually. I forgot to tell you how much you bother me. For years I’ve kept quiet while you put me down. Shame on you for calling yourself a friend. And shame on you for hurting all the other girls you’ve ever met, just to fool yourself into believing you’re better than everyone else.” I take a giant step out of the buffet line and walk through the dining room. I’m going to be late for class, but I won’t be as late as Kendall, who’s still trying to figure out what just happened.

  Twenty-One

  I’d like to say that my little rant made a difference in the way Kendall acts, but it hasn’t. If anything, it has made her treatment of my friends and me even worse. But something changed inside me when I stood up to her. I accepted that I want to be the High Priestess and I’m willing to fight for it.

  I don’t have time to deal with her right now, anyway. We’ve been busy preparing for the Third Harvest celebration. We have plenty of good painters to draw the tattoos onto people while everyone else takes turns working the booth. Turns out, I’m not too bad at painting tattoos. I don’t have Jo’s or Missy’s creativity, but I can draw what they make up. After nonstop practice, mine look almost as good as Jo’s.

  Once our booth is made, we help other groups set up booths, decorate the grounds, line up chairs just right near the stage, and gather supplies. There’s a charge of excitement at Dowling, and time slows to a crawl as we wait for the big day to arrive.

  But the day finally comes. And it is a beautiful evening. Nice breeze. Full moon. I wonder if any of the witches at Dowling can control the weather.

  We are allowed to wear regular clothes, so I’m in my favorite lace skirt and a red shirt. No glasses (thank you, Kendall). And Lady Rose’s hair clip to add some bling.

  When we walk out Dowling’s front door, I feel like I’m in a different world. The grounds in front of Dowling have been transformed. Covered booths line the sidewalks. Benches and chairs are scattered in groups on the lawn. Picnic tables are set up near the garden, where food will be served. Candles are everywhere. Some are in holders that have been nailed into tree trunks, and some are at tables. Even more candles hang from the tree limbs. Custodians walk from candle to candle to light each one. Slowly the glow of candlelight warms the area for the celebration.

  Jo has painted the design on my wrist, and I wish I could keep it there forever. It’s the infinity sign made with a snake. It’s said to symbolize that my gifts never end. They’re always changing and growing as I learn.

  I’m putting up the sign that shows all the tattoos we can do, when I hear the first rumble of buses driving through the Dowling gates.

  I start to shake, and I have to tell myself to chill out. When the bus comes into view and we can see it’s a Riley bus, Ivy is next to me, and she turns me to face her. She tries to smooth my hair down. “Enough,” I tell her, pushing her hands away. “He’ll see you.”

  I stand at the booth’s entrance with the other girls and greet the boys as they get off the bus and begin walking around. I do my best to look for Cody without actually looking like I’m looking for him. Kendall and Zena ­haven’t been seen all day, but I know they’ll be here. They’re just waiting to make their entrance.

  A tall guy, whose nametag reads Victor, is our first customer. He has a misty gray aura. So he’s materialistic and selfish. Maybe he should meet Kendall.

  He asks me to paint the design of his gift on his upper arm. He explains that he is telekinetic, so I carefully paint the thin circles like a spring and a lightning bolt in the center.

  “Can you show me how it works?” I ask him.

  “What do you mean?” he asks. He’s sitting so close to me, I can smell his breath, a mixture of breath spray and Fritos. Blech.

  “I mean, can you do it? Like . . .” I look around and point to the candle sitting on the counter of our booth. “Move that candle?”

  Victor looks around, nervous. “I don’t know.”

  “Never mind,” I say. “It’s okay. I didn’t realize you hadn’t really mastered it yet.”

  He pulls back from me, eyes dark and challenging. “That has nothing to do with it.”

  He looks at the candle, and it slides to the other side of the counter.

  The girls who see it clap, and one of them saves the glass candle holder from shattering against the side of the booth.

  “Not too bad,” I say. I go back to work on his design.

  Until I hear Cody’s voice.

  “Vic, did I just see you move that candle?”

  Vic looks up and I look up, and there he is.

  My stomach is like a balloon just waiting to be popped. Tight. Tense.

  He’s cuter than I remember. His hair’s longer, he’s tanner, and he’s taller. In dark blue jeans, boots, and a plain black T-shirt, he’s just a little bit breathtaking. And surrounding all of that is a bright orange aura. He’s a natural leader. The color fits him.

  “I don’t think so,” he says. Vic looks at me. “Did I move that candle?”

  I look around and shake my head. “What candle?”

  “Cute,” Cody says. “You know the rule. No magic. No showing off.”

  Cody hangs around the booth while I finish Vic’s arm. Once Vic is gone, Cody walks to my chair. “Can I go next?” he asks.

  “Be my guest,” I tell him.

  He sits down and looks at me closely. “Your eyes are different. Do you have on colored contacts?”

  I shake my head. “Kendall messed up another spell, so now I have blue eyes and I don’t need glasses.”

  He laughs. “A bad day to be Kendall.”

  I think about my run-in with Kendall in the cafeteria. I want to tell him about it, but not here. Not with everyone watching and listening. I grab the paint and raise the sleeve on his shirt. I know what the symbol is for his gift. I know it as well as I know my own.

  “Vic give you a hard time?” he asks.

  “That guy?” I say, pointing to Victor walking away. “Harmless.”

  Cody laughs in that way that means, You don’t know what you’re talking about.

  “How are you?” I ask. I will my breath to calm down. I can hear the nerves in my voice making it shaky.

  “Good,” he says. “Why haven’t you been answering my e-mails?”

  He asks the question quietly, and I’m grateful, because all three of my friends are hanging around, eager to catch a snippet of anything he says to me.

  “It’s complicated.” I don’t know what to say. I don’t know if I can trust you with the truth about me.

  I take my time drawing his tattoo while we talk. It’s good to talk to him again. It makes me wonder why I was keeping things from him.

  I’m nearly done with Cody’s tattoo when it happens.

  Zena and Kendall show up.

  They look like they just walked out of Buckle—blingy jeans with just the right wear in them (the kind you pay extra for), and even blingier shirts that put my outfit to shame.

  Ivy rolls her eyes. “Prepare yourselves.” The other
girls at the booth giggle, and I smile at Ivy. It’s good to know everyone else hates them too.

  They spot our booth, but their eyes continue to scan the grounds. They have no intention of working tonight.

  “They’re looking for you,” I tell him in a conspiratorial whisper.

  “Hide me,” he whispers back with a wink.

  But I don’t. I keep on painting and talking like normal.

  As if drawn to him like a paper clip to a magnet, ­Kendall walks straight to Cody. She does a little throat-clearing thing to get Cody’s attention, but he doesn’t look. She finally steps in front of him, bumps me, and causes me to paint a line through Cody’s symbol.

  I step back, clean off the paintbrush, and ignore Kendall.

  “You ready for some more dancing tonight?” her voice is too loud, her way of making sure everyone hears their conversation.

  “I don’t know,” Cody answers. “Maybe.”

  He looks around her to find me, but she leans too, blocking me.

  “You’re a really good dancer,” she says.

  “Yeah, uh, thanks.”

  He stands up.

  She looks surprised. I’m sure she expected him to flirt back; after all, that’s what most guys do.

  It’s so funny, I almost laugh out loud.

  “I’ve got to run, but—” He finally gets into a position where he can see me. “I’ll be back in a bit to let you fix this.”

  Dru glares at Kendall. “How do you live with yourself?”

  Kendall smoothes out the wrinkles in her shirt and ignores Dru’s question. Dru just shakes her head.

  Other guys walk up to the booth, each wanting their own tattoo. I have to shove Kendall out of the way to make room for the boy I’m going to paint. “If you aren’t going to help, go away.”

  “Suits me,” she says. She takes off with a deliberate toss of her hair that looks ridiculous. We all bust up laughing as she goes.

  I spend the next two hours painting design after design. I keep looking for Cody but don’t see him. There’s an empty spot in my stomach that worries he’s with ­Kendall or Zena.

  A bell rings, and I know it’s our signal to stop working the booths and gather for the ceremony. I put the lids on the paint containers and rinse the brushes so we can use them when this is over.

  There are a lot of people here from other states. People just like us, it seems. I walk to the circle, looking for Ivy. She waves me over, and I walk in her direction. Someone grabs my arm as I walk by, and I spin to see who it is.

  Cody.

  “Where you going in such a hurry?” he asks. “Are you in the ceremony?”

  I shake my head. “No, just looking for Ivy. I think I saw her over there.” I point across the lawn.

  “I’ll come with you, if that’s okay.”

  “Keep up,” I tell him. I’m always nervous when I think about talking to Cody, but when I’m with him, that all goes away. Weird.

  We find Ivy sitting with Dru and Jo and some guys Cody knows. The lights from the booths dim so that only candlelight illuminates the area beneath the giant oak tree’s limbs. A series of chimes signals the beginning of the ceremony, and we face forward in our seats.

  The headmistress climbs up the stairs to a small stage erected just for this purpose. She stands ten feet away, her dark hair smooth, her features impossibly perfect.

  Her eyes survey the crowd in front of her. There must be close to a thousand people here. She looks more closely, sees me, then sees Cody. Her eyes, welcoming and kind just seconds ago, turn to cold, hard marbles.

  She stares. And stares. And I know that if she could do so without making a scene, she would drag me inside by my new hair clip and tell me that I don’t have time for a distraction like Cody.

  But she can’t say anything.

  And she doesn’t.

  But it’s coming.

  She knows it. I know it. It’s coming.

  Twenty-Two

  The ceremony takes longer than it should. By the time the headmistress begins to wrap up, everyone’s antsy and I’m ready to get back to our booth. Based on the piercing glares from the headmistress throughout the ceremony, it’s probably in my best interest to stay out of her way. She has no reason to be mad at me, unless she thinks my little rant to Kendall included her precious Zena. Or maybe she’s just trying to intimidate me in the hopes I’ll give up and let Kendall rule the coven. If her own daughter can’t be High Priestess, then Kendall’s the next best thing. I’m pretty sure the headmistress would eat toad guts before supporting me as High Priestess.

  When the crowd breaks up, we decide to head back to our booth. Cody walks beside me, and the rest follow behind us. I feel self-conscious, like everyone is watching every single move we make.

  “Well, that was interesting,” Cody says. “A lot different than our ceremonies.”

  “Really? All of ours are pretty much the same. Almost identical, in fact. Change a chant here, add an element there, and voila! You have yourself a new ceremony. What are yours like?”

  Cody’s face is thoughtful. He finally settles on, “Darker.” I’m about to ask him more questions, when he points to his arm. “Can you fix this?”

  “Sorry about that,” I tell him. “There’s no stopping her when she’s like that.” That’s what will make beating her for High Priestess such a challenge.

  I lead him back to the booth and stop when it comes into view. Sitting on the chairs where our tattoo customers should be sitting are Kendall and Zena.

  Cody laughs. “Should I come back later?”

  I shake my head. “No,” I say. I grab his hand and pull him toward the booth. I try to ignore the zing of nerves shooting straight from his hand to my heart. I shove the nerves down, determined to show Kendall she can’t win this one.

  Ivy walks up, puts her arm out to stop me. “I’ve got this,” she says.

  I walk slowly with Cody while Ivy and the girls walk ahead. Neither one of us breaks the hand-hold. I guess it’s a good sign he didn’t yank free the first chance he got.

  Ivy stops at the chairs. “Get up.”

  Kendall and Zena keep talking, like Ivy isn’t standing there.

  Ivy puts her hands on her hips. I can practically hear her counting in her head.

  “Get. Up.”

  Kendall finally looks at Ivy. “Make me.”

  “Oh no,” I say under my breath. I half-walk, half-run to Ivy, and my hand slips from Cody’s grasp. When I get to Ivy, Cody is right beside me.

  “That’s enough,” I say to Kendall. I tip her chair forward so she has to get out.

  Ivy says something to Zena under her breath. Whatever it is, it’s scary enough to get Zena on her feet.

  Cody doesn’t make eye contact with either girl, and when they figure out he isn’t going to, they stomp their way to the food booths. They laugh and talk about “the losers” (aka us) they’re stuck with. There is so much I want to say to Kendall, but getting into a fight with her now will only embarrass me in front of Cody. I decide to take the high road, as Dad says, and act like she doesn’t bother me. I look forward to the day when I truly don’t care about Kendall.

  I motion to Cody to sit down, and I reach for the paint remover.

  “Those two are a handful,” Cody remarks.

  “That’s one way of putting it,” I tell him, smiling. I redo his tattoo, and it looks better than the first time I did it.

  “You’ve got some real talent,” Jo says.

  I laugh. “Not hardly. Not like you, anyway.”

  Jo shoos me away with her hands. “Why don’t you go get something to eat? You’ve been working the booth since we first got here.”

  “That sounds great,” Cody says. “I’m starving. Want to go?”

  I look at Jo, and her eyes are saying, What are you waiting for?


  “I’ll be back in a little bit,” I promise.

  “Take your time,” Jo says. She looks at the row of empty seats. “It’s not like we’re busy.”

  Everyone must have eaten before the ceremony, because we’re practically the only ones there. I get a salad, and Cody gets the biggest hot dog I’ve ever seen. He leads us to a table on the edge of the food area.

  There’s some awkward silence, and I have to fill it.

  “Can we talk about the rumor?” I ask. “The one you said we had to talk about in person?”

  Cody looks at me for a few long seconds. Then he looks around to see who can hear us. But there’s no one near and no excuse to stall.

  “It’s hard to explain,” he says.

  “Try me.”

  He smiles at me. “Well, all right, then. I guess I will. What exactly did you hear again?”

  I tell him about the rumor floating around Dowling, about him becoming High Priest when he turns twenty-­one. While I tell him about the rumor, he nods, as if affirming each detail. With each nod my breathing ratchets up, my heart beats faster. When I’m done talking, he pops a chip into his mouth.

  Then chews.

  And chews.

  And chews.

  “Are you purposely dragging this out to test my patience?” I ask him.

  He grins, still chewing. “Maybe,” he says after swallowing.

  I’m about to reach across the table and shake him. “So . . . care to answer me now?”

  “You already know the answer,” he says.

  “If I knew the answer, I wouldn’t be asking you.”

  “Trust your instincts, Hallie. What does your gut say?”

  My initial reaction to the rumor was that it’s bogus. But now . . . now that I know High Priests and ­Priestesses are determined by lineage and power, it seems more believable. I think about Cody and how he’s behaved tonight. No one is telling him what to do; it’s the other way around. But what does that really mean?

  I look across the table at him and wrestle with my own secret. If he tells me, do I have to tell him? “I’m not sure if it’s the same—”