Kelly McClymer-Salem Witch 01 The Salem Witch Tryouts (21 page)

I hadn’t really been serious. But suddenly it sounded like a plan. Get my powers bound and go to normal school. I could handle cheerleading there. No more remedial magic classes. “I’ll do it! I’ll bind my powers.”

She hugged me. It was an awkward moment, because even though I just wanted to burrow up against her like I had when I was little, it was just not dignified. “I mean it.”

“I’m sure you do, honey. But you can’t bind your own powers. You need another witch to do it.”

“Oh. You mean someone who has a Talent? Or maybe someone who has passed the Wisdom Test? Because I’m not seeing any Talent showing up. I’m going to be in remedial magic forever, and I have as much chance to make the team as a two-year-old does because that’s how much magic I know. Why shouldn’t I just give it all up?”

For a moment, I was tempted. If I weren’t a witch, I wouldn’t have to take the Wisdom Test, or any magic test ever again. Maybe I could move back—

Mom squeezed my hand. “It isn’t the answer, no matter how tempting it seems. You
are
a witch, and you don’t really know what that means yet. Maybe you should take it easy on yourself for a little while so you can find out.”

“But it’s so hard—” I began.

Mom interrupted before I could get into full-on harp mode. “Remember when you first started cheering and you fell off the top of a tower?”

“Not really. I blacked out.”

“You know what I mean. For a few days you were convinced you’d never let anyone lift you off the ground ever again.”

Okay. It was lecture time. It didn’t make it better that she was right. “Fine. I’d rather fall off ten towers than be stuck in a vat of mud for an hour!”

“It’s not so bad, if memory serves.”

“You …?” I stared at her, and she shocked me again—this time, by blushing. My mom, the almost-four-hundred-year-old witch, blushed. “Just pretend you’re in an upscale spa.”

I knew she was right. If I didn’t show up at school tomorrow, that meant Tara had won. Frappiola. Sometimes life is not just unfair, it’s triple-mega unfair. “Fine. But, remember, you promised if I don’t manifest my Talent soon, you’d let me go live with Maddie.”

“I remember.” She was still sympathetic, but there was a little touch of worry there that I didn’t like.

“Mom. If I—”

She sighed and held up her hand. “I hadn’t wanted to mention this while you were still adjusting to life in Salem, but your Talent needs to manifest, Prudence, or there could be serious consequences.”

“Like what? Will I sprout warts and a hairy chin?”

Mom didn’t even crack a smile. “You could become mortal. Lose your powers.”

“So?” Hadn’t she heard a word I’d said about wanting to lose my powers?

“Witches who lose their powers that way usually get sick,” she explained carefully.

“How sick?” I demanded. She didn’t answer. Which was bad. Very bad. “Do they die?”

“Sometimes.” Why couldn’t I have a mom who would lie about something like that?

I didn’t have anything to say to that. Even Dorklock didn’t crack a joke. I guess he loved me after all. Or at least liked having me around to torment at will.

“Besides,” Mom said, “I have good news. I’ve found Seamus. He’s agreed to tutor you. We’ll do a time-stretching spell this weekend so you can make the most of your study time.”

For a minute I was actually happy. Maybe a little tutoring from an expert was all it would take to put the snap in my magic moves. But then I remembered Agatha’s tone when she said the word “mortal.” And the test she gave me when school started. Not to mention the fact she’d given me a detention and let Tara and the other girls flutter back to class without penalty of quicksand.

“Thanks, Mom. Now could you talk to Agatha for me? Because she hates me and I just know she has it in for me, even if Cousin Seamus
can
teach me what I need to know.”

“That’s not the positive Prudence I know.”

Great. Mom had decided to turn on pep talk 101, about how focused I am when I want to be. I wish I could make violins play when she does that. Of course, being a magic no-nothing, I couldn’t. I knew harps would play if I answered, so I just crossed my arms and dared her to pep me up.

“The Prudence I know tries her hardest.”

Right. As if I haven’t been trying my hardest since we landed in this frozen wasteland of witches who could fly rings around me—literally. But what was the point in saying it aloud? I just went to my room. To study. Sigh.

❊

MADDIE: Who wants U off the team? Tell me her name and Ill come kick her behind

ME: Tara the HC Shez mad cause Coach likes me

MADDIE: Jealous much? Of course the coach would favor U—U R a champion

ME: Coach is deluded if she thinks this team has a chance at Regionals

MADDIE: Why?

ME: Our flyers R the best but we cant twirl in sync Nervous Nellie shakes when she duz a cartwheel and rolls like a drunken sailor U never know where shell land

MADDIE: Is it ur coach?

ME: She doesnt get a lotta support from the rents

MADDIE: Check Were lucky cause our rents know cheerin can get U noticed by a producer Guess in Salem thats not so likely

ME: These arent ur typical rents They dont want models for kids

MADDIE: Oh Serious rents 2 bad 4 U

ME: Yeah A whole school full of rents like my dad Not a pretty sight I almost feel lucky Almost

MADDIE: What about the rest of the team?

ME: U tell me! Tara doesnt believe that jumps and synchronization R important

MADDIE: 4 words Nair in the shampoo

ME: LOL!

MADDIE: Ull whipem into shape I know U Gtg Date 2nite

ME: Date! Who? DT again?

There was no answer to my question, just silence. She was gone. It probably sounds funny, but when we text each other, it feels like she’s there in my room. When we stop, though, there’s just the little silver phone again.

I hate that feeling. But mostly I hated that my best friend was going out with a boy and I couldn’t be there to help her
go through fifty dresses before she talked her mom into taking her to the store for just the right thing to wear on her date. To find out all the dirt.

I hadn’t even told her all my dirt. I’d been saving it for a grand finish, but instead there was just the cold silver cell that didn’t care whether I had managed to earn myself a detention in the first month of being at my new school or not.

It didn’t feel good. In fact, it felt like I’d lost my best friend. For a minute, I considered bribing Dorklock to pop me back in to Maddie’s room so I could help her get ready for this date of hers. I bet he could send me. For a price, of course.

I even thought of the excuse I’d use to explain how I’d turned up in California: a quick trip home to see my doctor for a sports physical. Mortals will fall for silly explanations like that—they don’t have powers and they don’t really believe in witches, except at Halloween.

But just then Dorklock barged in (without knocking … without even opening the door, to be precise—he just stuck his head through the door) to announce that Cousin Seamus had arrived. I ended up practicing magic instead of dishing with Maddie and making sure her makeup was just right. I don’t know if it would have made a difference if I’d broken the rules and zapped myself to Beverly Hills. Maybe. Maybe not.

❊

Cousin Seamus wasn’t nearly as old looking as I’d feared. He hadn’t let his hair grow gray and, if my mom hadn’t told me, I’d never have guessed he was older than twenty-five. He had that perennial young-man-on-the-verge-of-trouble look that so many of the boys in high school have. Which, as it turned out, made my tutoring session loads of fun.

“My motto is, if it doesn’t make you laugh, why bother?” he began.

Sounded good to me. “I’m ready,” I said, summoning my spell book.

“Does that make you laugh?”

I looked at the spell book. “It’s just a book.”

“Exactly.” He gave it a tap, and it went spinning back to my room. “I prefer to use this.” He pulled out his pockets, as if he were proving them empty to the cops. Glittery dust fell to the floor, swirled together for a moment, and formed into a little glittering iPod-like thing with legs and arms. Eyes opened on its iPod face and it examined me with a whirring, chirping sound that was nothing like laughter. Then, the little arms crossed over its squat middle.

“Give her a chance, Toot.” Seamus tapped the top of his magic gadget. “You know her mother’s been living a mortal life for twenty years—and she’s dragged the kids into it too.”

Toot made a few more squeals and beeps, then uncrossed his arms. All of a sudden, he pushed a button on his side
and projected three objects in the air: a red ball, a blue cube, and a banana—yellow, of course.

He waited, tapping the foot of one of his glittery legs.

I could see from Cousin Seamus’s solemn expression that this was a test. But a test of what? How crazy was my mother to think I could learn anything from these two? And, oh joy, in time-stretching mode at that.

I reached out for the objects, surprised that they were solid. I started juggling them. Slowly. We’d done some juggling for a routine two years ago, but I was rusty.

And then I decided I had nothing to lose. I juggled them with my magic rather than my hands. As they juggled through the air, I used all my concentration to unpeel the banana. And then, letting everything else drop to the ground, I ate the banana.

They still didn’t seem impressed, so I said, “Show me food, and I’ll eat it.”

Toot laughed by bending in half and slapping his knee.

My cousin giggled. “She has potential, Toot.” His giggle was weird, but by the end of our time-stretched tutoring, I’d learned to enjoy it. After all, it meant I’d gotten the equivalent of an A from a very hard taskmaster.

You’d think that a lesson that required laughter would be easy. You’d be wrong. But I have to say that I learned more in the session of tutoring with Cousin Seamus than I’d learned in three weeks of remedial spells.

Of course, he just laughed when I said, “You know, I must be ready to pass the Wisdom Test by now.” I’d gotten to know him well enough to know that was the laugh that meant I’d said something truly stupid. But even if I wasn’t ready for the Wisdom Test, I
was
ready to get into regular magic classes. And maybe cheer in a game against a magic school.

Don’t laugh. I was exhausted, and my natural optimism was overtaking my common sense. It only took a good night’s sleep to remind me I was definitely not in Kansas anymore.

ME: Big date news?

MADDIE: Sokay

ME: Not good?

MADDIE: Nuff said bout me U got the big game Luck

Maddie didn’t know the half of it. Trying for the best in mortal cheering wasn’t the easiest thing in the world. It’s not just prancing around and looking pretty like some people think. You have to trust one another, and you have to catch one another, even when your flyer can’t stand the sight of her bases or vice versa. If you don’t, bones get broken, heads get knocked, and competitions get lost.

Watching the football game between Agatha’s and the Washington Black Arts, I suddenly understood why Tara gave me pitying smiles and got annoyed with Coach’s interest in mortal competition. My first witch game was a pom-pom-shredding experience. I only wish I could have shared it with Maddie. She’d have been impressed, just like I was.

Lots of previously mysterious things were explained—like why the varsity cheerleaders were sloppy with their floor moves. Witch cheers are not done on the floor. Too tame. Everything is done in the air. By the time I’d watched both squads spin, twist, twirl, and fly through the air, I’d realized I was very lucky to have made even a probational spot on the varsity squad. Not that I’d admit it in a million, zillion years.

I sat on the bench that game. Water girl extraordinaire. But I watched and I learned and I noticed something important: There wasn’t a lot of synchronization among either squad—the kind of synchronization that makes a squad look not only impressive, but like one unit. My old coach had stressed the importance of that until our ears rang with words like “Together!” and “Timing, people!”

I had something to offer. They just didn’t know it yet. With proper timing, the awesome air routines would become triple awesome. Not to mention less dangerous. I saw at least five cheerleaders collide in midair and get
pulled back to the bench by the coaches. And not just the inexperienced or the not very good cheerleaders. Tara got hurt flying into one of the players because she had to avoid a quick dip and flip from a girl on the other squad.

Coach gave her an ice pack and sat her on the bench next to me. Joy.

“Ready to run home to mortal school yet?” she sneered at me.

“It’s impressive,” I admitted. Everyone likes a compliment. “Just like that shiner you’re going to have tomorrow.”

“Some people shouldn’t be allowed to fly.” She glared at the flyer who had hit her—who was still a risk to those flying around her.

“Yeah. Most people don’t get how challenging mortal cheerleading is. This stuff is definitely high-octane risk.”

“Well, at least you know you’re out of your league and didn’t beg to go in. I don’t know what her excuse is.”