Rhymes With Witches Read Free Page B

Or not to put our hands in the front pockets of our jeans, because it might look like
we
were trying to cop a feel.
    â€œOf
ourselves
?” I’d said when Rae laid that one on us.
    â€œKeep your hands out of the cookie jar, that’s all I’m saying,” Rae had replied. She held up her own to show me, like
Hey, I’ve got nothing to hide
.
    But stupid or not, I had to hear whatever Bitch-lore Rae had passed on.
    â€œFine,” I said to Alicia. “Whatever it is, will you please just tell me?”
    The bell rang for first period. Alicia glanced down the hall.
    â€œI’ve got a Spanish quiz. I can’t be late,” she said.
    â€œAlicia,” I warned.
    She turned back. She knew she had me. “Come over at five, after cheerleading practice. Rae can tell you herself.”

    I ate lunch in the library. Me and Ramona, age eight. This was the one in which Ramona accidentally broke an egg in her hair and got called a nuisance by her teacher, and as I turned the page, my heart went out to her. My heart did not go out to Alicia, and if she wondered why I wasn’t in the cafeteria, it served her right. She could find someone else to eat with today. Like one of the feral cats, and she could go on and on to it about pikes and herkies and toe-touch jumps. I was just fine with Ramona, thanks very much.
    A throat-clearing noise broke my concentration. I looked up, and there was Keisha. A senior. My heart started hammering.
    â€œHey,” she said.
    â€œHey,” I managed.
    She gazed at me with her celery-colored eyes. Contacts, I was pretty sure, although some black people have green eyes. But I’d never seen anyone, black or white, with eyes that shade.
    â€œMe and Mary Bryan and Bitsy, we hang together, right?” she said. “We’re tight. Like sisters.”
    I nodded. My throat was dry.
    â€œBut we’ve got room for one more,” she said. “A freshman.”
    I tried to keep my face blank, but my insides were knotting up because I had no idea what Keisha wanted from me. She wasn’tsmiling. In fact, she seemed pissed. But why would she be pissed at me? This was the first time I’d ever spoken to her.
    She pressed her lips together. “So Friday you’ll go to Kyle’s party with us. We’ll see how you fit in.”
    My stomach dropped. So did my book.
    â€œKyle … Kelley?” I asked.
    She frowned, like
who else?
    But my mind refused to accept it. Kyle Kelley was a senior who threw legendary parties whenever his parents went out of town, and afterward there were stories of guys throwing up or girls doing lap dances or couples screwing around in Kyle’s parents’ bedroom and then passing out with half their clothes off.
    Freshmen didn’t go to Kyle’s parties. Certainly not freshmen like me.
    â€œAre you guys …” I started. “I mean, please don’t take this the wrong way, but are you, like, playing a joke on me?”
    I was amazed by my nerve. Pricks of sweat dinged under my arms.
    â€œWe don’t play jokes,” Keisha said. “It’s not our style.”
    Ok-a-ay,
I wanted to say.
But why me? Why, of all the freshman girls, would you possibly want me?
I wasn’t in the popular crowd. I wasn’t in the one-day-might-be-popular crowd. I was a dork who couldn’t even pull off wearing a thong. I was Ramona, six years later, only instead of egg in my hair, I had—
    Shit. I slapped my hand over the cover of my book, now splayed on the desk, which showed eight-year-old Ramona straddling herbike. Keisha inclined her head to see the title, and I slid Ramona to my lap.
    â€œSo,” I said. “Uh …”
    She straightened up. “Be ready at eight. We’ll swing by and pick you up.”
    I gave her my widest smile. “Great. Fantastic.”
    â€œAnd don’t be nervous. Just be yourself.”
    â€œRight. Um, thank you so much.”
    She looked at