Rhymes with Witches

But Sukie was Sukie, not Camilla. Sukie wasn’t a Bitch, but as I’d told Phil, she had her own little cache of popularity. That’s what I reminded myself when, as I returned her hug, I slipped my hand into her purse, which hung open and inviting from her shoulder. Because Bitsy’s tape had worked: there was no way in hell I was going back to the pre-Bitch me.

Better Sukie than someone else, I told myself. That and, It’s only for a week.

Sukie released me, pink with pleasure. And although her hand strayed to her purse, fumbling for the clasp and hiking the strap higher on her shoulder, she didn’t realize anything was missing.

“I am just so happy,” she bubbled. “My life is so great. I mean, not like yours, obviously, but I don’t even care—that’s how happy I am!” She widened her eyes. “And Fall Fling is only two days away. Aren’t you just so excited you could burst?”

“I’m managing to hold it together,” I said. My fingers curled around my plunder. A stick of gum? A little on the linty side from the feel of it.

The warning bell rang, and Sukie made a face. “Trig,” she said. “Yuckers.”

I nodded sympathetically.

“But we’re on for lunch, right?” She squeezed my arm. “I’ve been counting down the days. Bye!”

I waited until she was officially gone, then unfurled my fingers.

Juicy Fruit, my favorite.

On my way to Lurl’s office, I passed a man wearing elbow-length leather gloves and a work shirt that said ANIMAL CONTROL. He was scowling at the ceiling, his hands on his hips.

I stopped. I watched him for a couple of seconds. “What are you doing?” I finally asked.

“Those damn cats,” he grunted. “They’ve taken over the duct-work.”

I glanced up at the rectangular ceiling tiles, smooth and white with little dots on them. I got a jittery feeling of wanting to laugh.

“So, what, you’re telling me they’re up there above us?” I joked. “Ru

His scowl deepened, and I followed his gaze in time to see one of the ceiling tiles shift a fraction of an inch. We heard a skittering, followed by a meow. A crumble of cardboardy stuff landed on the man’s shirt.

“That answer your question?” the man said.

My smile fell away. I thought of paws padding through dark spaces, and a chill moved through me.

“Well … good luck,” I said. I realized I actually meant it. “I hope you catch them.”

I walked quickly down the hall, through the heavy door, and into the co

“Lookie, lookie, who’s got the cookie,” she chortled from behind her desk. She held out her hand. “Gimme.”

The smell of cat food was stronger than ever, but there was still no sign of where it came from. Just her bare office, sterile and gray. The door at the far end leading to … wherever it led. Perhaps to an empty storage room? I shooed the thought from my head.

I dug into my pocket and pulled out Sukie’s gum. I hesitated, then stepped forward and placed it in Lurl’s palm. I didn’t look at the pencil sharpener.

“What will you do with it?” I asked.

She ran the gum under her nose. She sniffed. “Smelly papers—that’s what we used to call the wrappers. I collected them, you know. In a box under my bed.”

I swallowed.

She tapped the gum against her desk. “What will I do with it? What I always do, of course.” She giggled her man giggle. “Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

My heart crawled up my throat. I couldn’t have spoken if I’d wanted to.

She stopped smiling, and the tip of her tongue snaked out in disapproval. I got the sense that my reaction didn’t please her.

“I was crowned the Ice Maiden,” she said in a scolding voice.

“What?” I croaked.

“Of the Winter Carnival. I wore all white.”

She’s shy, Mary Bryan had said. Shy my ass.

“That’s great,” I said. “I bet you looked great.” I edged toward the door, but a crazy braveness made me ask one last thing. “I hope this doesn’t come out the wrong way, but … why do they call you Lurl the Pearl?”

She leaned forward, and her T strap glinted in the dim light. “Because I’m such a gem.”

When the jolt came, it blissed me out. I gave myself over to it and wished it lasted longer.

The theme for the Fall Fling was “Neverland,” which cracked me up, because without meaning to, the pla

Recently, three and a half more years of high school had started seeming like a really long time.

But, whatever. The committee had pulled out all the stops and turned the gym into a oversized playground. If I wanted to, I could get strapped into a harness and climb a rock-climbing wall, and when I got to the top I could ring a bell. Or I could get into a harness attached to a bungee cord, and a friend could, too, and we could race each other down a puffy rubber tu

“Dude,” Ryan Overturf said, slapping Nate Solomon’s hand. He laughed at how fu

“Yeah, baby,” Nate said, glancing at me to make sure I heard. I smiled at him, and my heart gave a happy, nervous jump. Despite the weirdness of everything else, my crush on Nate still thrilled me. He’d been showing off for me ever since we got here. I knew it because I could feel it.

“Yo,” Ryan said. He jerked his chin at an inflated rubber dome that was supposed to be a boxing ring. You could put on big ol’ helmets and big ol’ boxing gloves—like, the size of pillows—and go at it with your buddies. Ryan stepped closer to Bitsy and threw his arm around her shoulders. “You and me, Bits. I want to rough you up, sweet cakes.”

“Why are they here?” Mary Bryan said in a low voice. She tugged at her gold halter. “I thought this was a girls’ night. I thought that was the plan.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a bunch,” Bitsy whispered in return. She removed Ryan’s arm. “You go on, boys. Show us how it’s done.”

Ryan’s chest puffed out. “Come on, dickhead,” he said to Nate. “You heard the ladies.”

When they were gone, Keisha bumped me with her hip. “Looks like you’ve got an admirer,” she said. “Nate couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

At the mention of his name, a warmth spread through me. “Please,” I said.

“You know it’s true,” Mary Bryan teased. “You’re a princess, and he wants to be your prince.”

“My prince?”

Her lips twitched, and I knew she wasn’t buying my protests. “He’s yours if you want him. That’s all I’m saying.” She fingered the strap of my sparkly tank top. “Fabulous Jane in her fabulous new outfit. Who wouldn’t want to be yours?”

They were buttering me up, I could tell. Bathing me in Bitchdom. I tried to maintain some clarity.

“Uh-huh,” I said. “Only they’re the totally wrong clothes for actually doing anything in.”

“Which, of course, is tragic,” Bitsy said. She herself was wearing a flippy black dress paired with high-heeled, knee-length black boots. “Did you want to slip on the Velcro suit and fling yourself at a wall?”

“The human fly,” Mary Bryan intoned.

We all glanced at the far end of the gym, where a spread-eagled Elizabeth Greene struggled to free herself from the Velcro-draped wall.