Rhymes With Witches (15 page)

I waited for more. Bitsy rolled her eyes. Finally, I said, “Oh.”

“At least we get to be together,” Mary Bryan said. She appropriated another orange. “You know, the four of us.”

I scooped the remaining orange slices from my sauce and slid them onto her plate. “Here.”

She grinned. “Thanks.”

Bitsy nudged my elbow. “What's this, pet? A friend of yours come to visit?”

I glanced up to see Alicia walking toward us with a wavering smile. I looked beyond her at the drama table. Tommy Arnez was shaking his head, his face flushed. His friend pushed his shoulder and laughed.

“Hi, guys,” Alicia said in a wobbly voice. “Can I sit with you?”

It was the first time I'd been around her since the lip balm incident, and I was hit by an unreasonable annoyance. No, she couldn't sit here. She should go back to her own table where she belonged.

But I said, “Uh, sure. Of course. But … why aren't you sitting with Tommy?”

“He's helping Bryan rehearse his lines for
Our Town
,” she said. “I didn't want to mess them up.”

“Lovers' spat, eh?” Bitsy said. She seemed perkier than she had all meal.

“No,”
Alicia said. She pulled her chair in beside me, so close that her leg brushed mine. I inched my chair farther to the left.

“But something's going on,” Bitsy said. “I can tell.”

Alicia hesitated, then blinked two times. “We've got a date for tomorrow night.”

“Do you now?” Bitsy exclaimed. She selected a French-cut green bean and waved it in the air. “Go on.”

Alicia started telling us detail after pathetic detail, all in a nasal, wheedling voice, and I squeezed my napkin into a ball. Gone were the warm fuzzies from our chat outside Hamilton, replaced with an urgent desire for Alicia to shut the hell up and stop embarrassing me. I knew I wasn't being fair—this was Alicia, not some toad, slimy with need—but I couldn't help it. I didn't want her touching me.

“But it's not like you're a
couple
,” I said.

Alicia blushed. “I never said we were. I said we have a date, that's all.”

“Yeah, but it's, what, to some performance-art thing?”

“So?”

“So?”
I laughed. If she would have let it go, then I would have, too. But no. She had to ooze in where she wasn't wanted. “You said that part of their act involves a tampon dispenser.”

Her blush deepened. “I told Jane she was going to change if she hung out with you all,” she said. “And now she has. She's just acting this way to impress you.”

“Oh please,” I managed. My face went hot, and I felt blindsided
by her disloyalty. “Why don't you tell them what you really told me? How I should stay away from them because they're—” I clamped shut my mouth. I'd almost said “witches.” Witches, bitches, I had an insane desire to smack the whine right out of her. I shoved my hands beneath my thighs.

Alicia glared at me. “Anyway, it's for poems,” she said. “It dispenses
poems
.”

“Poems in a tampon dispenser,” Bitsy said lightly. “How clever.”

Alicia squished up her mouth, not knowing if Bitsy was making fun of her. And then all at once her shoulders slumped. “It's not like I had anything to do with it,” she said.

Mary Bryan's eyes met mine. I knew I should feel ashamed, but I didn't.

“Well, I think it sounds really fun,” Mary Bryan said. “First dates are exciting no matter what you do.”

“I wouldn't know,” Alicia said.

“And if things go well, maybe he'll ask you to the Fall Fling,” Mary Bryan went on. “It's only two weeks away, you know.”

“The Fall Fling,” Rutgers Steiner said, diving back into the conversation. “Now there's an example of authentic social intercourse. Do you agree, Callie, or do dances fall into your category of ritualized teenage cannibalism?”

“The Fall Fling isn't a
dance
, Rutgers,” Callie said. “It's an
event
. Which you would know if you had your finger on the pulse of actual high-school dynamics.”

Off they spun into another argument. Alicia scooted back her chair.

“Call me tonight?” she muttered.

“Sure,” I muttered back.

“Bye,” she said to the others. “I didn't … I mean, I hope I wasn't …”

“No worries, luv,” Bitsy said. She smiled breezily and took a sip of Perrier. “I just hope you and Timmy work things out.”

“Tommy,” Alicia said.

“Tommy. Right.”

Alicia took her tray and left.

“Sorry,” I said. I glanced up at Keisha, Bitsy, and Mary Bryan, and the rage I'd felt began to drain out of me. Now I felt shaken by my own reaction. “She isn't always such a toad.”

Mary Bryan frowned. Bitsy laughed. Keisha said nothing at all.

On Saturday morning I IMed Bitsy for party fashion advice. I was too chicken to call her in person, but I needed her input. Plus, I wanted the thrill of IMing Bitsy McGovern. Of knowing I actually could.

It's your coming-out party,
she IMed back.
Wear something sexy.

So I did. I wiggled into my shortest denim skirt, which I'd bought in a moment of summer madness and had never worn. It covered my crotch and not much more, and if I'd seen it on another girl, I'd have
tsk
ed with jealous scorn. But hell, I had good
legs. More importantly, I was a Bitch. The knowledge unleashed me.

“Another party?” Mom said when I jogged downstairs.

“Yep,” I said, moving quickly behind the sofa so she wouldn't comment on the skirt. “It's my coming-out party.”

Mom looked confused. “What?”

“Nothing,” I said. Bitsy's horn beeped from the driveway. “So … bye! See you when I see you!”

The party was in an abandoned warehouse that somebody's brother had rented or something like that. I didn't get all the details, and when we got there, I didn't care. It was a huge open space, like a barn, and the cheerleaders had decorated it with strands of silver star lights and red Chinese lanterns. Velvet cushions were piled in the corners, and along one wall sat a gold brocade sofa with dark green throw pillows. A rent-a-hot-tub bubbled away in the center of the room, and a full bar was set up ten feet away. Kyle Kelley held court with a bottle of Tanqueray and a lemon. When he saw us, he raised the bottle in salute.

“It's amazing,” I breathed.

Mary Bryan seemed pleased, as if it were a present she was responsible for.

“They did a nice job,” Keisha acknowledged. She wore a pale sage dress that matched her eyes, and she looked like a creature from a fairy tale. Compared to her I was a vamped-up club girl, but I hardly cared.

“Knock 'em dead,” said Bitsy. She used her thumb to soften
my sparkly eyeshadow, which she'd applied for me in the car. “You're the belle of the ball.”

Raven Holtzclaw-Fontaine:
I'm just really happy for you. And I'm not just saying that.

Me:
Yeah? Hey, thanks.

Raven:
Just be careful, that's all. It's so emotional. No matter how exciting it is, it's so emotional.

Me:
Uh … okay.

Raven:
Take me, for example. Like how I got an art scholarship to RISD, right? But I'm not going to let it go to my head, even though it is one of the most prestigious design schools in the country.

Me:
You got a scholarship? That's awesome!

Raven:
Wow. That is so nice of you to say so. I mean, I thought you might be all full of yourself, but you're not. And I'm not going to be either. Unless I'm forced to.

Me:
You'll do great. I know it.

Raven:
Listen, do you think I could paint your picture sometime?

Elizabeth Greene:
Everyone sees me as just this kick-ass cheerleader, but there's more to me than that, you know? And this internship I've been offered could be the opportunity of a lifetime. Only, a year is a really long time. And Antarctica's friggin'
cold
, there's no getting around it.

Me:
That's true. I do think it would be cold.

Elizabeth:
Plus there's only this one research guy in the lab I'd be working in, and he's ancient. He has one of those tubes in his neck to speak with, but apparently he's not much of a conversationalist.

Me:
Jesus. Don't you think you'd get lonely?

Elizabeth:
I think he's self-conscious.

Me:
Well, I guess you just have to ask yourself if it's worth it or not.

Elizabeth:
Oh my god.

Me:
What?

Elizabeth:
Nothing, you've totally put it in perspective, that's all. Because you weren't afraid to take on a whole new life, were you?

Me:
I never … huh. I mean, I guess I wasn't, was I?

Elizabeth, hugging me hard:
You're my hero, Jane. I'm going to go for it. I am!

Pammy Varlotta:
Hey.

Me:
Hey.

Pammy:
Great party, huh?

Me:
Man, it really is. I didn't know parties like this even existed—you know, before I hooked up with Bitsy and Keisha and Mary Bryan.

Pammy:
I know what you're saying. I mean, not that I'm
claiming to be in your shoes or anything. Is it awesome, being a Bitch?

Me, laughing:
God, is that all anyone can talk about? It's like every single person has to bring it up.

Pammy:
But … you brought it up, not me.

Me:
What? No, I didn't.

Pammy:
Yeah, you did. Just now when you talked about hooking up with Keisha and everyone.

Me:
Oh.