Accidentally Evil Read Free Page A

door. She opens it forcefully, like she’s trying to scare someone, just like Ivy opened the door earlier.
    Standing on the other side of the door are the two people we like least.
    Kendall and Zena.
    If possible, they’re even prettier than they were last year.
    Kendall speaks first, all Suzy Sunshine like we’re BFFs. “Hi, girls!”
    Looks like she mastered the whole forked-tongue thing just fine. I try to glimpse it in her mouth, but she’s too fast.
    â€œLooks like everyone made it back okay,” Zena says, eyes narrowing critically. I know she notices Jo’s transformation, but she’d rather jump into a boiling cauldron than compliment her.
    Kendall’s eyes land on mine. Her lips lift slowly, and I brace myself. I know that look. She’s a jungle cat ready to pounce on her prey.
    â€œOh my God, Hallie,” she says. Her voice is partsneer, part “gotcha.” “What is wrong with your nose ?”
    â€œShut up, Kendall,” Ivy says.
    â€œTouchy,” Kendall says, entirely too happy for my liking.
    â€œAt least it’s temporary,” I shoot back. “How’s that new tongue working out for you?”
    Zena jumps in before Kendall can answer. “Hope you girls can keep up this year. It will be our hardest, after all.”
    I put my hands on my hips. “Maybe for some. Not for me. Not for us.”
    They cross their arms simultaneously, like they’ve rehearsed it a million times in the mirror.
    â€œYour lips are moving, but all I hear is ‘blah, blah, blah,’” Zena says.
    Dru puts her hand on the door. “Ta-ta,” she says, as sweet as pie.
    Then slams the door in their faces.

Three
    T he four of us walk into the Gathering Circle for invocation, less anxious than last year, but my nerves are still jumpy. It feels like my heart is in my throat. The GC is one of my favorite places at Dowling. There’s a reverence to it I find comforting. Knowing that thousands of Dowling descendants have congregated in this room makes me feel connected in a way that just feels right.
    The headmistress is at the door, greeting every girl by name. Even the new ones. She’s exactly as I remember—black silk hair, thin body in perfect proportions, and eyes that see deep inside a person’s soul.
    She lays a hand on my shoulder in greeting. The alien greeting, I called it last year.
    â€œWelcome back, Hallie,” she says. Her eyes linger on me so long, it gets awkward. I force myself to stand tall. No squirming.
    â€œThank you, Headmistress.”
    I follow Ivy inside to the second row from the top. Last year, as Seekers, we sat in the top row. Each year, as we progress, we descend to the next row, then the next, until we are in the first row circling the triangular stage in the center of the room. I’m a long way from the first row, but I’m grateful I’m not at the top anymore.
    I check out this year’s Seekers as we walk to our seats. I give them encouraging smiles because I know how nervous they are. Nervous enough to puke. Their tight-lipped scared-speechless faces say it all.
    The room hums in whispers and muffled laughs. It fills quickly and the candles dim. The dorm mothers sit on the stage, and I feel a twinge of sadness. I never would have survived last year without Miss A. She literally saved my life. How can I get through this year with anyone else? The other dorm mothers are all sharp angles and dark features. Then there’s Miss A. A green crystal butter­fly clip pulls curly bangs away from her face. The gems sparkle and clash with her hair. But it’s classicMiss A. I’m surprised Dowling tolerates her eccentricity. They are all about conformity. Something tells me there’s a story behind my favorite dorm mom. Maybe this is the year I’ll find out what that story is.
    Zena and Kendall enter the room at the last possible moment, and the doors close behind them with a