Charmed (3 page)

I
sit at the kitchen table, mechanically eating a bowl of Cocoa Puffs even though I’m not remotely hungry. I feel like a bad person eating a bowl of cereal when my best friend is who knows where, suffering who knows what, and all because of me. But I’ve been getting brutal headaches lately, and Bishop says it’s probably from malnourishment. I’d accused him of being dramatic, but truthfully, he’s probably not far off the mark.

I can’t stop thinking about what I did to Jezebel last night.
Almost
did, I remind myself. I mean, sure, Jezebel’s a bitch and her plan was crazy with a capital
K
, but I really
wanted to hurt her. Who knows what I would have done if she hadn’t made herself disappear?

“Don’t look so pissy,” Aunt Penny says, pulling out a chair and slumping down across from me. She’s still in her fluffy pink bathrobe, and her blond hair is pulled up in a messy bun on top of her head.

“Trust me,” she says, noticing the direction of my stare. “I don’t want to be up this early either.”

I look down into my cereal. If she thinks one little apology is all it takes for me to forgive her, then she’s been watching a few too many Lifetime Originals.

Aunt Penny turns on the TV on the kitchen counter and flicks through the channels, pausing on the news.

“…was last seen leaving school on Friday afternoon. Efforts to reach him via phone and social networking sites have been unsuccessful. His parents say this is out of character for Josh, and are asking the public to help search for the missing teen.”

“Know him?” Aunt Penny asks, nodding at the TV.

On the bottom of the screen is a photo of a boy with bright blue eyes, scruffy red hair, and a smattering of freckles across his cheeks. He’s wearing a baggy sweatshirt and scowling at the camera.

“Nope,” I say, slurping up the last of my milk. I take my bowl over to the sink and give it a quick wash.

“I’m going to need you to work at the shop for a bit tonight,” Aunt Penny says as I dry the bowl.

“What?” I whirl around, tea towel still in hand.

“I have a meeting with the bank at four. House stuff. It’s really important or I wouldn’t ask.”

Must stay calm. Must not explode.

“It’ll be for only a few hours at most,” she adds.

I’m about to tell her where to shove her bank meeting when I realize that she’s providing me with both the perfect place to perform the locating ceremony and a chunk of unsupervised time.

“Fine,” I grumble. I chuck the tea towel into the sink for effect and grab my messenger bag.

“Come straight after school!” she calls to my back as I fly out of the front door into the bright morning sunshine.

I’ve never been particularly excited to go to school, despite managing straight As in all my classes (which are probably D’s after the mounds of tests and assignments I missed in the sixteen days I’ve been absent), but today, the prospect is especially unappealing. There are a few reasons for this.

And lastly,

And the worst part? I have to do it alone. I briefly tossed around the idea of begging Aunt Penny to consider home-schooling until I realized QT with my aunt would be more painful than school.

I park my Sunfire, then take a quick glance in the rearview mirror. I shudder and make a mental note to avoid any reflective surfaces for the rest of the day.

The hallways are a din of voices, laughter, and the metallic
sound of lockers slamming closed. A massive blue and silver banner strung across the hall proudly proclaims Fairfield as the winner of the annual homecoming game against Beverly Hills High—Go Renegades—and members of the football team engage in a wrestling match, which Mrs. Hornby tries to break up as a crowd calls out bets on the winner.

For a split second, it’s comforting, the familiarity of the place. I start to feel like, hey, maybe the world
hasn’t
tipped off its axis. But in that same split second I remember that—no—everything isn’t normal, Paige isn’t here, and then I’m angry with myself for deigning to think anything could be okay when it’s so, so not.

At least no one’s staring at me
, I think as I maneuver through the halls toward my locker.

Someone grabs my arm and says, “Indie?” very hesitantly.

Thea, all four feet nine of her, stares up at me with eyes the shape of saucers as she realizes that, yes, in fact, it
is
Indie. She drops her hand from my arm as though looking like crap might be contagious.

Heat creeps up my neck and onto my cheeks. “Hi, Thea.”

“What happened to you?” she asks.

I roll my eyes. Does the girl have no tact? I’m inclined to tell her that my chemo has been especially hard this month, just to make her feel bad for asking such a dumb question. Instead, I settle for the vague “I just haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

Thea gives a slow blink. “Oh. Well, where have you been?
You missed, like, a trillion cheer practices and you weren’t at the mandatory meeting on Sunday. Did you drop out of the squad?”

“Well, nobody informed me about this mandatory cheer meeting on Sunday, so why would I have shown up?”

I guess I must have said that a little more tersely than I’d planned, because there’s at least a handful of people staring at me now and whispering behind cupped hands. Goodbye, anonymity.

Thea shrinks visibly. “I dunno….”

I heave a sigh—I’m taking out my anger on the wrong person. It’s not Thea’s fault I wasn’t invited. “Anyway, no, I’m not going to be on the team anymore. I’ve realized cheerleading’s not my thing.”

“You mean, it’s not a loser thing?”

I stiffen at the sound of Bianca’s voice behind me.

Snickers bounce along the hallway, and I swear a freaking spotlight descends on me in all my ratty-haired glory. Of course it was too much to hope that she’d died of Ebola since I last saw her.

Heels clacking, Bianca walks around me. Her white-blond hair is clipped back from her face, the rest falling in gleaming strands somewhere between her shoulders and boobs (which, FYI, are on full display in her low-cut tank top).

She gives me a long up-and-down appraisal, and a grin pulls up her lips. Now more than ever I wish I knew how to conjure objects, just so I could make Valtrex tumble out
of her pocket. I can’t believe I ever thought this girl was my friend.

“I think you’re conveniently forgetting I chose not to be friends with you, Bianca,” I say.

“Right,” she answers. “And it looks like you’ve been pretty torn up about it too.”

“Ha-ha,” I deadpan. “But actually, that’s one decision I know I’ll never regret. Unlike you, who will probably regret many things, like the incident in Ian’s bathroom last spring, for example?”

Her face burns redder than if her mom had caught her reading
Fifty Shades of Grey
. I give her an innocent smile. I like to think I wouldn’t stoop as low as Bianca and spread around all the dirt I have on her, but I’m not above threatening to do it, and often, if just to see her squirm the way she’s made countless others do.

“Come on, guys, no fighting.”

As if this morning couldn’t get worse.

Devon sidles up, blond waves flopping around his tanned face and a backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Can’t we all get along?” he adds.

I want to sock my cheating asshole of an ex. Bianca looks like she does too. But then her expression clears and she smiles a deranged sort of smile.

“You’re right, sweetie.” She hooks her hands around Devon’s neck and pulls him in for a deep kiss. For a moment he looks embarrassed, but then he draws her in by the waist,
shoving his tongue down her throat like he’s trying to eat her face.

The wind is knocked out of me.

I know I shouldn’t care. I have a much better boyfriend now, and I’m pretty sure all girl codes for dating your friend’s ex are off if you’re no longer friends…But still. Could they have moved on any faster?

Everyone’s looking at me. I fight the urge to call a meeting at the bike racks at three o’clock.

“Well, the plot thickens,” I say flatly, feigning nonchalance.

The bell rings, and I couldn’t be more grateful. I step around the tangled bodies, the crowd giving me a wide berth as I pass like I’m some sort of leper.

I know it’d be easier if Paige were here. She’d laugh at all this. Tell me they were lemmings and who the hell cares what lemmings think. I feel a pang in my gut that she’s not here with me now. That she might never be again.

I’ve been at school for all of six minutes and already I’m counting down until I can leave.