Kelly McClymer-Salem Witch 01 The Salem Witch Tryouts (18 page)

“And you let that stop you?” he asked scornfully.

“What?”

“I had assumed you were like me—not meant for remedial class, but I guess if you haven’t figured out how to counter that lame spell …”

He popped out, leaving me alone to ponder the fact that I was no longer his Cinderella Girl, but was instead back to being the 666 Girl—with big weepy hives for decoration.

He’d also left me wondering if I’d ever get the chance to ask him to help me find a way around my mom’s protective spells in the same way I found a way around her mortal rules about swearing (it doesn’t count if you stretch it out … so beeyotch, sheeyoot, daminee cricket) and being out past curfew. I already knew what I could offer him: a ride in my Jetta. Parking optional, but very much on the table.

MADDIE: Danny Trimball asked me out!!!

ME: DT? Brace Face? Did U puke?

MADDIE: I forgot U haven’t seen him Hold 4 pix

ME: Losin the braces makes a big diff!

MADDIE: N spendin the summer on his grandfatherz horse farm made him a hottie

ME: A hottie? Hez no hottie. Hez a torcher! Id hop a broom right now if he wasnt already taken

MADDIE: Maybe Samuel has a grandfather with a horse farm

ME: Samuel would need a trip 2 the best
plastic surgeon in 90210 And some heavy duty protein drinks 2

MADDIE: Harsh He dance?

ME: Dunno Don’t wanna kno. Hez good 4 whats inside his skull not whats outside

MADDIE: U tellin me theres no hotties at ur new HS? Noway U need glasses

ME: What do U want from me? Pix

MADDIE: Good idea Film at 11

ME: Noway

MADDIE: Uve got that cute lil camera Use it Snap some of the runner ups Maybe Uve overlooked some1

ME: Noway

MADDIE: Way

ME: K But Ive got 2 practice my moves 1st Made the team!

I decided to humor Maddie as much as I could. She was still my best friend, even if she was all the way across the continent. After all, she wouldn’t be able to tell I was in a school of witches just by looking at them—as long as I was careful to keep the rabbits, spell books, and flying erasers out of the shot. So I took the camera to school. Why not? After all, I made the cheerleading squad. Yep. I did. Miracles do happen in real life, just like on TV.

Well, semi-miracles, anyway. My name wasn’t on the list of those who had made the team. But I got a note from Coach Gertie to come and see her. I didn’t want to, but too bad. It was my last chance to convince her I would learn what I needed to know at lightspeed.

So I showed up at practice and tried not to hate the girls who were celebrating having made the team. I didn’t know how to begin to beg. After all, I couldn’t look needy. I had to beg with confidence. Unfortunately, after my dismal performance and my definitely un-stellar tutoring session with Samuel, I had a confidence level of zip.

“How are you feeling?” Coach smiled at me, but I could tell she was looking me over for signs of weakness.

“I’m great. No problems at all. In fact, I was practicing all weekend—”

“Great!” Coach cut me off. “I need you well enough to begin practice next week.”

All the confident begging I’d hoped to do rushed out of my head at once. I had only one thought. One question. “I made the team?” I couldn’t keep the incredulity out of my voice—and I was not deaf to the murmur of wonder that did the wave through the other girls.

Tara couldn’t be ignored, though. “Coach! She can’t even do a simple midair vault and dismount. She’ll kill someone if you let her on the team.”

Coach looked at me, and I could see her actually weighing Tara’s words. Kill someone? Myself, maybe, but unless I fell directly on someone too slow to get out of the way, that was a bit harsh. I protested, in fine cheerleader fashion. “I’ll do extra practice until I get the move right, Coach.”

“Good attitude. Others could learn from you. After all, you
have
been on a championship team.”

“A mortal team, Coach!” Tara protested.

“True.” Coach looked at me, then nodded, a swift no-nonsense jerk of her chin. “Still. If we decided to enter the championships, we’d have to follow the mortal rules. Prudence will be on probation until she learns our magic routines. Mortal games only.”

Probation? Me? Crappaccino. I hated the word. The concept. The reality, even. But I did what any good cheer-leader would do: I smiled on the outside and blazed like a Christmas tree doused with gasoline on the inside.

Coach smiled, a real smile that was nothing more than her satisfaction with her call and her blind adult belief that I was happy with her decision. “I like your spirit, girl. Can’t hardly be blamed for not being able to do what you’ve not been taught. But you’ll get it. I can tell.” She frowned, as if she might have been too positive. “If you work hard.”

“I love to work hard,” I assured her with a surprisingly steady voice. The Christmas tree inferno and the weekend of despair and practice with Samuel had taken a lot out of me.

“Good. Then today why don’t you work hard on learning to keep your lunch where it belongs when you spin.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I’m no dummy. I’ve been cheerleading since sixth grade. I’d gotten the sympathy admit—or maybe the novelty admit, since it fascinated Coach Gertie that I had gone to a mortal school for twelve years (including kindergarten, which my teachers and fellow students alike seemed to find a ridiculous concept. Apparently a roomful of four- and five-year-old witches could make a five hundred-year-old warlock’s hair turn permanently and irrevocably gray). I had a lot to prove.

Still, I was on the team, probation or not. That felt good. So maybe I couldn’t tell Maddie all about my woes, but I could make her happy with a few pics.

First, of course, I popped into the boys’ locker room for a few candids of Mr. Bindlebrot. Just kidding! I thought about it. Hard. But if anyone saw a picture of Mr. Bindlebrot in a towel, I don’t think even my mother’s magic could keep me in the school. Some things just cross a line in any world. Besides, I didn’t want to share that view with anyone, not even my best friend. Not even if she lived on the other side of the country and didn’t have popping powers. Sure, Bindlebrot was only a crush, but he was my crush and I didn’t want to share.

There weren’t many candidates for hottie, but I knew
Maddie wouldn’t believe me unless I showed her. So I stationed myself in the hallway by my locker (I took a picture of it, too, knowing she’d get a kick out of locker 666 even though I couldn’t tell her about Hi, the resident ghost).

I snapped the tall boy who was new, like me. He’d found a way to fit it (tall equals basketball, even in witchworld).

I caught Daniel, in profile, so she wouldn’t see exactly how cute he was—or she’d text-tease me mercilessly. He didn’t look my way, but it was too soon to tell if it was because he was over me or trying to get me to change my mind about jumping the school fence (metaphorically speaking) with him.

The boy three lockers down from me had promise, if he washed and brushed his hair and got rid of the unibrow he had going. We didn’t share any classes, but being practically locker buddies meant that was not an obstacle to a drive-by eye lock. I knew girls back in L.A. who were experts at the art.

I went to lunch full of my good deeds, knowing that I’d made Maddie happy and proved my point that there weren’t many candidates for hottie in my new school. No doubt she’d share that info with the other cheerleaders, and Chezzie would be pleased.

At lunch, I had a decision to make. Should I eat with Samuel, Maria, and Denise, the fringies who had been there for me on the first awful days of school? Or the cheerleaders,
who weren’t going to be there for me until they’d made sure I was one of them? Probation made things tricky. But the longer I stayed at a fringie table, the harder the move would be.

I know the choice should have been clear, but really, all I wanted was to sit down with my friends, fringies or not, and just talk. But that wasn’t the way to bond with the squad. I’d told the lunch trio what I intended to do this morning in the hallway before our first class. They were looking at me with big smiles of encouragement. So why did that make it even harder? Sigh.

When I walked up to the cheerleaders’ table, I could sense that disaster was about to strike. They tensed and shrank together in more unison than they showed on the floor. Not a good sign. I flipped past the thought that I should just keep on walking over to sit with Samuel, Maria, and Denise. I understand the high school jungle, even with the witch twist. It was now or never.

I set my tray down in midair, where it hovered perfectly, despite my quivering nerves. Taking out the cell phone, I pointed it toward the group. “Smile!”

“What’s that?” Tara asked, her lip curling as if I’d pulled out a dead toad.

“It’s a mortal toy called a cell phone, and it takes pictures.” I pantomimed taking a picture and said as brightly as I could, “Say cheese, everyone!”

My instinct had been correct: Witch cheerleaders are as
vain as mortal cheerleaders. They twitched their hair and makeup to perfection with practiced finger flutters, then smiled. Big, bright cheerleader smiles.

I handed the camera to a smirking boy and quickly joined the group for the picture. Everyone oohed when I got the camera back and showed them the square at the back where they could see it. We looked good. My smile was just as bright as anyone else’s. No one looking at the picture would have had a clue that I was the new witch on the block—and on probation, at that. So I promised to make copies for the entire squad.

I thought I was master of my domain until later that night, when Samuel came for dinner and another session of tutoring.

“Missed you at lunch today. But we were all glad you’re on the team now, since you wanted it so much.”

“Thanks. I missed you guys too.” Which, surprisingly, was true. It was really too bad that fringies and being kewl didn’t mix well at school. Not that I planned to snub Samuel, Maria, or Denise. Ever.

But, even though lunch wasn’t a problem for Samuel, apparently something else was. “Why didn’t you take my picture? You took everyone else’s.” He wasn’t exactly subtle, and he was way too observant.

I hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings. “I was just trying to capture the atmosphere around the lockers for Maddie.” I’d told him a lot about my life back in Beverly Hills,
and about Maddie, during our tutoring sessions.

“Oh.” Oddly enough for a mortal groupie, he didn’t believe me. I could tell by the way he shrank away from me just a little.

“No. Really, Samuel. She doesn’t know I go to a witch school.” I decided to come clean, sort of. “She wants to know if there are any hot guys in the school, and I’m trying to prove to her there aren’t—so I didn’t take your picture.”

“You think I’m hot?” Again, he wasn’t buying it.

I thought about lying, but it was just too cruel. And, besides, it could cause complications I didn’t want to deal with. But first, I had to be sure we were not being spied on. “Before I answer a question like that, I need a quick sweep of the room—any invisible Dorklocks around?”

He didn’t smile, but he did check carefully, flipping his lenses as he scanned the room. “No one but us. Camera Girl and No-Photo Boy.”

“Okay. It’s dangerous to ask if you’re hot, you know?”

He shrugged. “I can take it.”

“Well.” I pretended to consider him carefully, from the scraggly part in his straight brown hair to the scuffed toes of his dark brown boots. “Definitely warm—if you took off those glasses.”

He smiled. “I never take off my glasses.” I could see that my not labeling him a hottie had made him believe me. Good call on my part.

“Why is that, by the way?” I hoped I wouldn’t offend him, but I was really burning to know why such a smart kid with otherwise vanilla fashion sense would wear a pair of glasses that had three separate lenses—red, blue, and green—with little levers to raise and lower them. They were kind of like the glasses that Benjamin Franklin made in the movie
National Treasure
.

“They help me see the other dimensions more easily,” Samuel explained.

“Other dimensions?” For a minute I thought he was losing it big-time.

But, no, he was just into that science thing. “They’re quantum glasses, based on string theory in physics. With them, I can see the other dimensions that are nearby.”

“Sure.” I wasn’t going to get into it. Not a chance. I like science, but biology is way more interesting than physics. Atoms and quarks and things you can see with the naked eye are just not the same thing as the way the brain works. I had decided back in mortal school that I’d be a doctor. A pediatrician, to be exact. I didn’t need to see into other dimensions. I just needed a warm stethoscope. And lollipops.

“Want to try them?” I guess my silence had seemed like skepticism rather than disinterest.

I shrugged. “Sure. Why not.”

He took them off and handed them over, giving me a
glimpse of very nice brown eyes. Just to add authenticity to my excuse for not snapping him, I lifted the phone and snapped him. “There. Too bad for me. Maddie’s just going to see one more cutie in the school. You shouldn’t hide your eyes.” Not that I thought he’d take my fashion advice.