Rhymes With Witches Read Free Page A

British. She used expressions like “brilliant” and “pet” and “you stupid cow.”
    â€œMary Bryan
did
talk to you, right?” Bitsy asked.
    I nodded, focusing on her Hello Kitty hair elastics so I wouldn’t have to meet her eyes. She was scarily hip.
    â€œIt’s not a done deal, of course,” she said. “We do have to test you.”
    â€œYou do?” I felt like I was going to faint. I had no clue what she was talking about.
    Bitsy tilted her head. “We’re extremely selective, pet. We have to be. But we think you’re the one.”
    The one
what
? I wanted to say. But I was too busy hyperventilating. Anyway, where was Alicia? We always met at our lockers first thing in the morning. If Alicia were here, she could tell me if this was really happening. And what it meant. Where
was
she?
    â€œWear something semi-nice,” Bitsy said. “Not too tarty.” She took in my T-shirt and jeans, which I’d worn over my everyday Jockeys for Her. I’d reverted to my pre–shopping spree basics, but I’d chosen my faded Sesame Street shirt with care, thinking it was maybe retro-cool.
    â€œBut maybe a little tarty wouldn’t be bad, eh?” Bitsy laughed as she headed down the hall. “Friday night, then. Ta!”
    Friday night, then? Friday night?!
My only plans for Friday night were to curl up with a bag of popcorn and watch
Survivor: Senior High
. From last week’s preview, I knew that the challengeinvolved a three-legged race to the school’s infirmary while real gang members trolled the halls. There was supposed to be a twist, too. Something having to do with the team members’ bandanas.
    But Bitsy, was she suggesting … ?
    I couldn’t even say it in my head, that’s how ridiculous it was. But if not that, then what? What
was
Bitsy suggesting?
    I felt pressure behind my knees—a swift double nudge—and my legs buckled. I smelled Alicia’s Obsession.
    â€œCute,” I said, turning toward her.
    â€œWhat did Bitsy want?” she asked. “I saw the two of you talking.”
    â€œShit, Alicia, I have no idea. She just came up to me, out of the blue, and was all, ‘Hello, luv,’ and ‘We think you’re the one,’ and—” I broke off. “What? Why are you staring at me like that?”
    â€œThe one what?” Alicia said.
    â€œI have no idea! That’s what I’m telling you! I mean, first Mary Bryan, and now Bitsy … it’s just strange, that’s all.”
    â€œI’ll say,” she said. Her expression wasn’t happy. “I mean, last night when you mentioned Mary Bryan … but then I thought, ‘No. No way.’ Only now, if you’re telling the truth …”
    â€œWhat?!!”
I said.
    Alicia frowned. “Rae said they’d be picking a freshman. She said they always do.”
    Rae was Alicia’s karaoke-singing sister, who’d graduated from Crestview five years ago. She still lived at home.
    â€œâ€˜They’ who?” I demanded. “And how would Rae know?”
    â€œBecause Rae went to school here before we did,” Alicia said. Her tone said,
idiot
. “And there were Bitches back then, too.”
    I sighed. I knew what was coming was one of Rae’s “back in the olden days” explanations, in which everything sucked because she was never homecoming queen or head cheerleader.
    â€œYeah, well, there’ve
always
been Bitches,” I said. “And there will always be Bitches. It’s just a fact of life.”
    â€œExactly,” Alicia said. “Only I didn’t believe it at first.”
    â€œBelieve what?”
    She stared at me like I was a lab rat.
    I turned to my locker and yanked out books. I knew it was going to be stupid, whatever Rae had told her, because it always was. Like not to let guys hug us from behind, because it was a sneaky way to cop a feel.