Witcha'be (3 page)

“Pam works hard to make you and your dad happy. You shouldn’t mock her cooking.” Bianca shoved her fists to her narrow hips and cocked a boot on Lenni’s desk chair. Her short skirt inched up her smooth thigh—Bianca had no reason to fear pink, plastic razors. “And I happen to be hungry.” Her hair smelled of earth and musk as she breezed from the room. The scent reminded me of the incense in the hippie store where Mom bought her CDs.

“She hates me. How could you do this?” I asked, on the verge of tears.

“Do
what
?” Lenni seemed clueless.

“Ask me to spend the night and invite Bianca behind my back. You know how she feels about me.” I swiped a tear from my cheek.

“You’re wrong. I don’t know how she feels about you. I only know how
you
feel about
her
. Bianca’s never even mentioned you.”

Her honesty stung my pride. “Don’t you think it’s strange that she’s never mentioned me, with you and me being such good friends?”

“You don’t want her to talk about you, but you think it’s strange when she doesn’t? I’m beginning to think you’re the one with the problem, not Bianca.” She let a breath out slowly. “Molly, just give her a chance. I’ve known her for a long time—”

“So I’ve heard. I know all about your cute little ‘blood sister’ dance and all that other ridiculousness.” Jealousy simmered, hot and bitter, in my bones.

“That was forever ago. We were only seven. Trust me, we aren’t going to perform any more dances around the bloodberry bush.”

“Whatever.” I shrugged, hating my insecurity.

“Look, I know Bianca is different. Her uniqueness is what I love best about her. Just like your uniqueness is what I love best about you.”

“Really? I thought you wanted me to get a makeover so I would be beautiful like you, your mom, and Bianca.” I crossed my arms.

“You
are
beautiful. You just seem a little uptight sometimes, like maybe you don’t feel beautiful.” Lenni looked wounded. She creased her forehead. “I’ve only known you for a few months, but I could tell by that first day we spent together at the lake we would become best friends. I’m a good judge of character. If you give Bianca a chance, you’ll be good friends too.” She stretched her tank top to her eyes and wiped tears.

My heart hurt for her. She’d gone out of her way to welcome me into her town, her school, her home. I couldn’t stand to see her cry. “I’ll try, okay? Turn off the tears.” I put my arm around her shoulders. “But I have to show you something. I still want you to know how she feels about me.” I unzipped my bag, dug to the bottom, and then dumped everything onto the carpet.

The doll was missing. Goosebumps invaded my arms.

“She must’ve gone through my bag when I was downstairs, and you were in the bathroom. She hid it somewhere.” I walked to Lenni’s desk, cluttered with cosmetics. In the middle of the pastel jumble lay Lenni’s scrapbook. I thumbed through it, as if a cardboard version of the doll would pop up.

“What are you looking for?” Lenni asked, peeking over my shoulder.

“I-I’m not sure. It’s too complicated to explain.” Our lake pictures. Lenni and I smiling, our images surrounded by miniature ocean-wave stickers and little, glued-on fish. I looked closely at my face, spine tingling. My knees buckled. I leaned against the desk.

Lenni slid the book from my hand and looked at the page. “Wow. Your eyes have really faded in these pictures.” She flipped page after page. “They’re almost gone.” She put her nose close to the photographs. “Weird. Mine are blue as ever. It must be the glue or something.”

“Girls! Come down for dinner,” Mrs. Flemming called up the stairs.

Lenni shrugged and shut the book.

Bianca chatted with Lenni’s mom at the polished dining table, her red hair brilliant under the chandelier.

“Here we are,” Lenni announced, scooting a chair out on either side of Bianca.

“Let’s dig in.” Mrs. Flemming removed the lid from a glass dish, revealing dumplings in gray soup. “I made eggrolls, too. Tell me what you think.” The crusts oozed a curious green liquid as she plopped them to our plates.

“Where’s Daddy? I thought he’d be home from the golf course by now,” Lenni said, poking at her eggroll.

“He and a client are having dinner at the country club after the game. I guess you’d call golf a game. Or maybe it’s a round. A round of golf? Anyway, he’ll be back later. So how do you like the dumplings?”

“Delicious.” Bianca grinned, chewing emphatically, licking her lips. She snaked her tongue over her small, white teeth then looked at me, snapping them sharply together.

I tottered in my chair, jarring my plate. My dumpling rolled to the floor. “Sorry Pam,” I said, scooping it into the linen napkin.

“Plenty more where that came from.” She eyed the vacant spot on my dish then splatted on a double helping.

My stomach clenched. “Thank you.”

“Are you feeling better?” she asked.

“I think so.”

“It takes a while for the pills to kick in, but once they do, it’s a good eight hours before they wear off.” She took a bite of her eggroll and grimaced, then sampled her dumpling. “Wow. How are you girls eating this stuff?” She spit into her napkin, stood and collected our plates. “I’m ordering pizza,” she called out from the kitchen, over the garbage disposal.

“Come on. We’re off the hook,” Lenni whispered. We walked to the stairs. Bianca passed us midway, marching wordlessly ahead. She disappeared into Lenni’s bedroom as I climbed the last step. We followed her inside and I shut the door behind us.

“What’s wrong?” Lenni hopped onto the bed, nudging Bianca playfully.

Bianca shoved back. “I’m bored. Let’s play a game.” She glanced from Lenni to me, a little smile forming on her lips.

“What kind?” Lenni jumped to the floor, rummaged through a crate filled with board games.

“Not those,” Bianca snapped, sliding to the carpet.

“I’ll hook up the game system.” Lenni crawled toward the television.

“No. I’m thinking something more personal.” Bianca laid back and stared at the ceiling.

“A get-acquainted game.” Lenni clapped. “Good idea.”

Lenni was wrong—this was the opposite of a good idea. My eyes darted to the door. Slowly, it opened right before my eyes. I yelped and pointed.

“What’s the matter with you?” Lenni stood and crossed the room.

“The door—” The words came out as a whisper. I swallowed and tried again. “The door opened by itself.” I flicked my gaze to Bianca, wondering how she’d done it. She sat up and smirked.

“Oh, that.” Lenni giggled. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She pulled the door closed and wiggled the knob. “Something’s wrong with the latch. It doesn’t always fasten. Dad hasn’t gotten around to fixing it yet.”

I dropped cross-legged to the floor, my heartbeat returning to normal.

“Jumpy, aren’t we?” Bianca reclined on her elbows. “Let’s get started—unless Molly’s too scared.”

“I don’t really like games.”

“Let’s play anyway,” Bianca said. “Do you have a bottle, Lenni?”

Lenni stepped to the dresser, plucked fake carnations from a green bottle, and then tossed it. It bounced, landing in front of me.

My heart shrank. “I’m not kissing anybody.”

Lenni snickered and dropped to the floor beside me.

Bianca rolled her eyes then settled them on mine. “We aren’t playing spin the bottle. We’re playing truth or dare.” She gave the bottle a twirl. “And you’re the lucky girl who goes first. Truth or dare?”

I blew out a frustrated breath. “Fine. Ask me a question.”

“Molly,” Bianca said, her voice smoky, like her eyeliner. “Where are you from?”

“I’m originally from California, but we left when I was five. Dad found a better job in Texas.” Bianca watched my lips, unnerving me. “We lived in Crystal, Texas, until—”

“Who’s we?”

“Me, Mom, Dad…Boo, the Chihuahua.”

“And your little dog too.” Bianca flexed her fingers. “Go ahead.”

“We lived in Crystal until we moved here in July. That’s pretty much all.”

“Fascinating,” Bianca said, her sarcasm obvious. She motioned to the bottle. “Your spin.”

I spun. The neck pointed to Lenni.

“Truth. Ask me something, Molly.” Lenni wiggled excitedly.

I frowned, thinking. “Okay…how many boys have you kissed?”

Bianca drew her tormented eyes to the ceiling. “Just the sort of question I’d expect from you.” She dragged her gaze to Lenni.

“Umm, do I have to count my cousin Robert? We were only three years old.”

“No. Please don’t,” I said.

“Two boys, then. My spin.” She gave the bottle a twist. “Bianca!” she squealed. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Bianca answered, pursing her full lips.

“I dare you to hug Molly.”

My face grew hot. “That’s not a good idea.”

Bianca shot behind me, locked my elbows to my sides.

I stiffened, heart hammering.

She squeezed sharply, driving the air from my lungs.

“Dare accomplished.” She moved back to her space on the floor.

“Thank you, Bianca.” Lenni smiled. “I’m proud of the two of you.”

I sucked air through my nose and breathed out through my mouth, struggling to keep the hiccups at bay.

Bianca’s claw-like nails clinked on the glass as she twirled the bottle.

“Truth,” I said. “Ask away. Hope you don’t die of boredom.”

“Molly, who is your very most bestest friend in the whole entire world?” The grin on Bianca’s face looked out of place, like the Big Bad Wolf before he gobbled Grandmother.

I chewed the inside of my cheek. If I answered truthfully, admitting Lenni was the best friend I’d ever had, Bianca might go ballistic. If I named someone from my old school, Lenni would be crushed. The air thickened. Lenni shifted positions.

“We’re waiting,” Bianca whispered, her eyes sliding down my stubbly legs to the chipped polish on my toes. She curled her lip.

“I would have to say…Lenni.”

Mrs. Flemming’s footsteps sounded on the stairs. “Pizza’s here.” She tapped the door lightly, her foot in mid-air when Lenni opened it. “I got two. One pepperoni, the other divided—half sausage, half cheese. I know you like plain cheese, Bianca.”

“Wanna join us, Mom?” Lenni asked, opening the top box.

“Not tonight. I have a brand new bottle of pink grapefruit-scented bubble bath to try out. Have fun.”

Lenni frowned at her fingernail. “Darn! I chipped my polish and can’t touch it up. A few days ago I lost the bottle.” She sank to the floor and opened the other box. Bianca took a slice of cheese pizza. I wondered how she could be hungry after that plateful of dumplings. Running around all hours of the night planting voodoo dolls must be a real calorie burn.

Bianca picked at the pizza, consuming the slice, layer by layer, as she stared at me, licking her fingers between bites.

Lenni finished and stretched her legs. “Now I want something sweet.”

I swallowed my last bite and pulled my bag by the strap. “Mom baked cookies this morning and sent some with me.” I fished into the side pocket, retrieving the pummeled baggie.

“Yay! Yummy.” Lenni snatched the baggie, yanked it open and grabbed a cookie. She offered one to Bianca, who snarled.

“Come on, Bianca, they look good.” She held the cookies to Bianca’s face.

“No.”

“Fine.” Lenni sighed then took a bite, perking up. “Hey, I’m not finished playing truth or dare. And I want to spin this time.”

“It’s Molly’s turn,” Bianca reminded her.

“I pass. Go ahead, Lenni.”

She smiled and gave the bottle a hard twist. “Bianca.”

“Get on with it,” Bianca rolled her eyes.

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare. Of course.”

“I dare you to eat one of Molly’s delicious cookies.” She wagged the baggie.

“No.” Bianca glared at Lenni.

“Don’t make me do the chicken dance.” Lenni pulled to her knees, hands on her hips, elbows flapping.

“You’re so obnoxious,” Bianca grumbled, yanking a crumbling cookie from the bag. “What kind is it?”

“Oatmeal raisin,” I answered.

“Are you sure?” She held the cookie up, examining it, a disgusted look on her face.

“Positive,” I said, irritated. “I’ve watched my mom make them hundreds of times.”

Bianca locked eyes with me and took a bite.

“I want the recipe,” Lenni mumbled around a mouthful. “What’s in them?”

I closed my eyes and pictured Mom filling her silver mixing bowl. “Oatmeal, raisins, butter, sugar, brown sugar, vanilla…” I opened my eyes, trying to remember the rest. “Flour, baking soda, salt—”

“Eww, salt, in cookies?” Lenni interrupted, grimacing.

“Mom says it heightens the flavor of the other ingredients.”

“I taste something familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it,” Lenni said, polishing off her second cookie. “No cheating, Bianca. You have to eat the entire thing.”

Bianca shoved in the rest of the cookie and swallowed hard. “Happy?” she growled.

“Yep.” Lenni smiled.

“Peanut butter,” I said, remembering the forgotten ingredient.

Lenni’s gaze flicked to Bianca.

“Peanut butter?” Bianca narrowed her eyes.

“The thing I couldn’t remember was peanut butter. My mom always adds a little to the cookie dough. She says it helps the texture.”

Bianca screeched like a terrified animal.

I flinched, my gaze jerking between Bianca and Lenni.

“Did you tell her?” Bianca’s voice was a breathy squeak.

“She doesn’t know. Please, don’t be mad,” Lenni pleaded.

“I’m going to be sick—don’t follow me.” Bianca sprung from the room.

Lenni melted into the floor.

I rose and shut the door, shrinking inside. “Please tell me Bianca isn’t allergic to peanuts.” I’d heard terrible stories about people who’d suffered, and sometimes died, from peanut allergies.

“She isn’t.”

“Then what’s the problem?” My shoulders relaxed a little. I lowered to the floor and crisscrossed my legs.

“She has an issue with peanut butter. She can’t help it.”

“What kind of issue?”

“Just drop it, Molly. Please.”

Annoyed, I picked at her. “Let me guess, witches can’t eat peanut butter because it gums up their powers?”