Rhymes With Witches (17 page)

“Hey, Janie-girl. What's up?”

It was Phil, calling way too early the next morning. I held the phone away as I stretched, then brought it back to my ear.

“Hey, Phil,” I said. “You woke me up.”

“Want to go to Memorial? Have a picnic?”

“Right now?”

“It's eleven o'clock. I'm starving.”

“You
woke
me
up
.”

“Fifteen minutes, then?”

I rubbed my hand over my face. I arched my back and pointed my toes. “Make it twenty.”

I brought the milk. He brought the Krispy Kremes. Breakfast of champions—or in this case lunch.

“So what's kickin'?” he asked, tossing me a still-warm doughnut.

“‘What's kickin'?'” I repeated.

“Nate Solomon said he saw you last night at some fancy party.” He made his voice sound mocking. “He said you were
hot
.”

I tried to hide my reaction, but I couldn't help smiling.

“For real? Are you shitting me?”

“He was like, ‘Sorry you weren't there,
dude
. Sorry you're such a loser,
dude
.'”

“Oh, he did not. I think Nate is very nice.”

“Apparently he feels the same way,” Phil said. “You're the flavor of the season. You're the new black.”

“Please.”

“Seriously, what's the story?” He licked a smear of glaze from his thumb, pretending he didn't really care, but his eyes gave him away.

I tried to calm down, although inside I was jumping all around. But Phil was not the person to share it with.

“Well … I guess it's because I'm a Bitch,” I said.

“No you're not. Don't even say that.”

“No,” I said. “I'm a
Bitch
, like Keisha and Bitsy and Mary Bryan. They ended up picking me after all.” I grinned, filled with goofy joy. “Last night was my coming-out party.”

“Oh,” Phil said. He didn't seem terribly happy. “But in reality you're still plain old Janie. Right?”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, I just meant that Nate's never drooled over you before. So why should he drool over you now?”

“You're kind of digging yourself into a hole, pardner.”

“He's never even
mentioned
you before.”

I looked down, unsure how to proceed. We were coming close to talking about something that we really didn't need to talk about, and I didn't mean the whole mysterious popularity thing.

I used my sneaker to nudge his high-top. His crappy, tattered high-top. “Come on. Aren't you happy for me?”

“I just don't get why hanging out with Mary Bryan and Keisha and Bitsy would make such a difference.” He finished his milk and crushed the carton. “Why does it even matter who you hang out with?”

Oh, Phil
, I thought.
You really mean that, don't you?

I decided to try a different tactic. I let my voice take on a playful tone and said, “Anyway, I've noticed you making new friends, too.” I raised my eyebrows. “Oz Spencer? Hmm? Does someone have a little bit of a crush on someone?”

He looked at me as if I were nuts. “Oz? She's in my physics class.”

“She's nice,” I said.

“Yeah, I agree, but I don't have a …” He sighed. “On Friday, Mr. Lesmeister made her tie a sweatshirt around her waist. You could see her thong because her pants were so low, and the guy behind her wasn't getting any work done.”

I thought of my failed thong attempt. At least Oz had the guts to go for the glory.

“And were you that guy?” I teased.

“No,”
he said. “It was Matthew Lyons.”

He seemed frustrated, and I felt bad. I let the joke go and flopped back on the quilt.

He lay back beside me. His jeans, super dark like those a cowboy might wear, stretched alongside my just-the-right-bit-faded ones. We gazed at the sky.

“Listen, Janie,” he said. “I
am
happy for you. I guess it's just weird having all these other people figure out what I've always known.”

I turned my head. “Phil, that is the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me.”

He nodded, like
yeah, he knew
. Then he said, “The Fall Fling's coming up.”

I got a nervous feeling in my stomach. “Yeah …”

“You probably won't want to now that you're, you know, upper crust, but—”

“Phil.”

“You think you might want to go with me?”

I blinked. On the one hand, no, I did not want to go with him. I wanted to go with Nate. Not that Nate had asked me, but he could. And now that I was a Bitch, he actually might. Which made me realize—holy shit. Phil had never asked me to anything like this before, so why now? Was he only asking me because I was a Bitch? Even if he didn't know it, was that the deep-down reason?

I didn't like where that was going, and anyway, no. Phil was Phil. He liked me just for being me. As for Nate, well, crushing on him was one thing. The thought of making it real—or taking a step toward maybe making it real—was way too scary.

A decision blossomed within me, and I knew it was the right thing to do. I faced Phil and was floored to see that he'd turned a bright, painful red.

“Phil …” I began.

He didn't meet my eyes. “It wouldn't have to mean anything.”

“Well, duh. What I was going to say was sure. Let's do it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I rolled over and gave him an awkward hug. Surprised, he hugged me back.

plainjain:
hey, mb. wazzup?

bayBdoll:
nmjc. u?

plainjain:
normal ol' sunday. i'm avoiding homework and
mom's making fried chicken. mmm.

bayBdoll:
lucky u. sunday nite chez moi is pretty much fend-for-yourself nite. then again, so is every other nite.

plainjain:
ouch

plainjain:
wanna come here?

bayBdoll:
that's ok, my brother said he'd make burritos. but thanks.

plainjain:
no prob

plainjain:
so i was kinda wondering what bitsy's deal is. that is, if ur ok talking about it. if not, that's totally fine.

bayBdoll:
about camilla, u mean?

plainjain:
yeah

bayBdoll:
well … it's complicated.

plainjain:
oh

bayBdoll:
if i tell u, do u swear not to tell bitsy?

plainjain:
OF COURSE

plainjain:
it's just that she seemed so pissed last nite, like totally out of the blue.

bayBdoll:
yeah, well, they have a long history.

bayBdoll:
camilla lives in bitsy's neighborhood, did u know that?

plainjain:
really? i thought camilla was, like, poor.

bayBdoll:
u'd think so, with all her anti-establishment bullshit and those leotards she always wears. but no. she's rich as sin. that's not why bitsy hates her, tho.

plainjain:
then why?

bayBdoll:
cuz … ah, shit. cuz camilla saw something she wasn't supposed to, over the summer.

plainjain:
did it have to do with

plainjain:
u know

bayBdoll:
what?

bayBdoll:
OH. no, not that. it was something personal.

bayBdoll:
look, i'm just gonna tell u, but like i said, u have to promise not to tell.

plainjain:
i promise. u know i do.

bayBdoll:
i'm serious. bitsy would kill me.

plainjain:
mary bryan, i swear i will never say a word.

bayBdoll:
bitsy's dad took off, ok? he ran off with some floozy. and instead of telling bitsy to her face, he stuck a note on the windshield of her car. can u believe that?

plainjain:
omg, that's terrible

bayBdoll:
only bitsy found the note before he left, and i guess she and her dad had this big scene in the driveway. bitsy lit into him for being such a bastard, and he gave back as good as he got. apparently he said all this stuff about not wanting kids in the first place and how he'd never signed on for changing the nappies of a 16 yr old.

plainjain:
jesus. and i thought MY dad was bad.

bayBdoll:
anyway, they were both pretty much shouting their heads off, from what bitsy told me.

plainjain:
and camilla heard?

bayBdoll:
and camilla heard.

plainjain:
crap

bayBdoll:
she'd walked over cuz of the noise, and bitsy spotted her at the end of the driveway. only here's the worst thing. i guess by that point bitsy had moved from shouting to … well, groveling.

plainjain:
BITSY?

bayBdoll:
hard to imagine, isn't it?

plainjain:
forget hard. try impossible. i didn't think bitsy knew HOW to grovel.

bayBdoll:
well, “grovel” isn't the word bitsy used, obviously, but that's the sense i got. there were tears involved, i do know that.

plainjain:
how?

bayBdoll:
cuz when bitsy was telling me about it, her lips got all tight and she said, “but i DIDN'T cry. i NEVER cry.”

plainjain:
which of course means that she did

plainjain:
poor bitsy

bayBdoll:
so that's the great drama. i would just steer clear of the whole camilla situation if i were u.

plainjain:
no shit

bayBdoll:
hey, i gtg. i've got a freakin huge english assignment.

plainjain:
yeah, ok. only can i ask one more thing?

bayBdoll:
what?

plainjain:
that other stuff. the bitch stuff. god, i feel retarded even saying it. but blah, blah, blah, the little stealing ritual and all …

bayBdoll:
oh god. we're going there again?

plainjain:
no. no, never mind.

bayBdoll:
jane. r u happy being a bitch?

plainjain:
mary bryan! u KNOW i am.

bayBdoll:
then don't worry about it. just enjoy the fact that life is good.

plainjain:
ur totally right

bayBdoll:
of course i am. and now, gbye!!!

One of the feral cats sprayed Alicia's locker. It stank to high heaven, and on Monday morning everyone made “pee-ew” sounds and waved their hands in front of their noses. “Piss Girl,” they called Alicia, and it didn't matter that it made no sense.