Also by Lauren Myracle
The
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:
Myracle, Lauren, 1969–Rhymes with witches / Lauren Myracle.
p. cm.
Summary: High school freshman Jane believes that she would do anything to be popular until she is selected to be in the school’s most exclusive clique and learns that popularity has a price.
ISBN 0-8109-5859-7
[1. Popularity—Fiction. 2. Cliques (Sociology)—Fiction. 3. Witchcraft—Fiction. 4. Conduct of life—Fiction. 5. Interpersonal relations—Fiction. 6. High schools—Fiction. 7. Schools—Fiction.]
I. Title.
PZ7.M9955Rh 2005
[Fic]—dc22
2004023447
paperback ISBN 978-0-8109-9215-3
Originally published in hardcover by Amulet Books in 2005
Copyright © 2006 Lauren Myracle
Designed by Jay Colvin
Published in 2006 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS. All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher. Amulet Books and Amulet Paperbacks are registered trademarks of Harry N. Abrams, Inc.
Amulet Books are available at special discounts when purchased in quantity for premiums and promotions as well as fundraising or educational use. Special editions can also be created to specification. For details, contact [email protected]
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New York, NY 10011
For Laura,
the original Bitch,
who couldn’t be a bitch if she tried
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
beg
speak
roll over
about the author
Acknowledgments
Thanks to Tobin Anderson for inducting me into the world of the weird. Thanks to Laura Pritchett, Todd Mitchell, and Jack Martin for helping me make the weird even weirder. And thanks times ten to Susan Van Metre, who tempered weirdness with vulnerability, spookiness with humanity. Susan, you are the cat’s meow.
I so shouldn’t have worn this thong. It was hiking up my butt, and there was nothing I could do about it because there was no way to subtly reach up and yank it out. “They’re comfortable,” Mom had said. Then, “Well, they do take some getting used to. But Jane, if you don’t want panty lines …”
Thanks, Mom. This was the wedgie from hell.
“I’m thinking maybe board shorts and a red tank top,” Alicia said.
I shifted on the hard cafeteria chair. My new dress, the one that demanded no panty lines, wrinkled under my thighs.
“
She was interrupted by a high-pitched yowl as a rangy butterscotch-colored cat bolted from the kitchen. It leaped over one table and skidded down another, sending a plate of spaghetti crashing to the floor. Cries erupted as people jerked out of its way. Chairs screeched.
“Get out! Get
The cat bounded through the wide double doors. The cafeteria lady flung her spatula, and the cat jumped sideways and tore down the hall.
“And
“Jesus Christ,” Alicia said. “You’d think we could have one day—
“They’re cats, Alicia. Not spinning-head girls from
had
“Whatever,” she said. “But it’s driving me insane.” She stabbed a fresh noodle and demanded, “So will you? Sign up after lunch?”
“I’m not trying out for cheerleading,” I said.
“But
I put down my garlic bread. Alicia was not nearly as clever as she liked to think she was.
“I’m kidding,” she said. Her face showed her regret, although only for an instant. Being real with each other wasn’t something Alicia and I knew how to do very well. “But how are you going to, like, rise above it if you never even make the effort? I’m serious. Don’t you ever just want to be more than who you are?”
A new disruption sent ripples through the crowded cafeteria, saving me from having to answer. It was the Bitches, Crestview’s elite, strolling majestically through the doors. They filed in according to rank: first Keisha, who was a senior; then Bitsy, a junior; then Mary Bryan, a sophomore. A lull fell in the hum of eating and talking, and then conversations swelled back up. Brad Johnson’s laugh rang out, shouting, Look at me! Look at me! Sukie Karing smiled hard and waved. “Over here!” she called. “I saved you guys seats!”
“
During Spanish, I reached into my backpack and closed my hand around Dad’s present. A small brown teddy bear, just right for an eleven-year-old, wearing a shirt that read I LOVE CAIRO.
“We’ve got spirit, yes we do! We’ve got spirit—how ’bout you?”
Whoops and cheers assaulted me as I walked across campus after class. Clusters of freshman girls, each group with their own senior leader, bounced and leaped and yelled. I searched for Alicia and spotted her on the courtyard of Askew Hall. With her pale skin and inky black hair, she was an easy target. The other girls were doing a step-cross-step kind of movement, but Alicia crossed when they stepped and stepped when they crossed. Her tongue jammed against her lower lip, making it bulge. She did that when she concentrated.
She rammed the girl beside her, and my face heated up for no good reason. It wasn’t me who had rammed Chelsea Olsen. It wasn’t me who appeared to be nursing a wad of chew.
omg, u will not believe who talked 2 me after school. who came up and talked to ME, on purpose. go on, guess.
mary bryan richardson!!!
and get this: she asked if i want 2 hang out sometime.
she did, i swear. it was extremely freaky.
oh god, maybe she did. except she did use my name, so what’s that all about?
fyi, i didn’t even go to the library. i was going to, but i changed my mind.
gee, thanks
malicious14: i’m just saying. anyway, i’ve g2g. i twisted my ankle during cheerleading practice, and i’ve gotta put more ice on it. everybody gave me those fake pity looks, when really they were just glad it wasn’t them.