Authors: Samantha Combs
Everspell (29 page)
“Really?” I got up and strode across the room to the window. Sure enough, the house across the street, empty for so long, was all lit up and I could make out empty moving boxes in the driveway.
How had I missed that?
“When did all that start?”
“I’m not sure, honey. I stayed up late last night, almost into morning. I must have been overtired since I slept in until almost eleven. I know you kids can get yourselves up for school, you’ve been doing it so long now.” She almost sounded guilty, but kept on talking. Jade and I both knew she hadn’t slept well since dad died. She thought we didn’t know. “I woke up when I heard the sound of the moving truck.” She blinked at me. “What time did you meet the new girls?”
I thought about it. I
was
late to school, but I wasn’t telling her that. “I guess maybe 10 or 10:30. I had just walked by the office.” I didn’t tell her I’d been there with another forged late note.
She seemed to consider that for a minute. “Mm-hmm, that’s about the time I heard their car pull away. They must have been leaving to go to the school.” My mom put her arm around my shoulder. “Looks like we may finally have some new neighbors, kiddo.”
“Yeah.” I wondered if this might be a good thing or trouble. “Looks like.”
Also by Samantha Combs
Chapter One
The weirdest week of my life didn’t start out as the weirdest week of my life. In fact, it started out as pretty normal. I woke up at the regular time, dressed in my self-prescribed uniform of baggy jeans rolled to my calves, dark hoodie, and black Chuck Taylor Converse high-tops. I pulled my short blonde hair into two little ponytails, and as an afterthought, defiantly swiped pink lipstick across my lips.
When I got to school, my friends were already there. I caught up with Jett, Sixx, and Creepshow hanging around at our usual spot, sitting on the wall. I nodded when they saw me.
“Hey Juice!” Sixx called out.
Sixx is my best friend. Her real name is Nicole. But she has always loved Mötley Crüe, and so, while we made fun of her, we also renamed her Nicky Sixx and after awhile only the Sixx part stuck. I suppose it had been in retaliation that she nicknamed me Juice. My real name is Lucy. Juicy Lucy. Get it? Our friend Jett has black hair and always wears Ray-Bans. And Creepshow is obsessed with horror flicks. I guess we’re not all that original.
“Hey, Sixx.” I unslung my backpack and let it drop to my feet. Claiming a spot on the wall, I joined my friends on our morning perch. We sat there watching everyone stream into the school and successfully ignored them all.
“What’s going on, girl?” Jett leaned over and gave me a hug. As always, he enveloped me with the smell of salt air and board wax.
“Not much. How were the waves?” Jett and Creepshow surfed every morning before class. If I woke up early enough, I rode my bike down to the beach and watched them. Afterwards, they’d put my bike in their beat up old van and give me a ride to school.
“Sweet. Better than yesterday. Not as good as they’ll be tomorrow.”
“You know Jett’s never satisfied with his ride, Juice. He always thinks there’s a better one coming.” Sixx fished around in her giant bag for something. “I’ve got something for you. Aha! Here it is.” She pulled out a dark wad of material and handed it to me. “Found this over the weekend at a thrift shop. Screamed your name at me.” I unfurled the wad and almost stopped breathing.
“Sixx! Where did you find this? It’s awesome!” I flapped the vintage t-shirt open so Jett and Creepshow could see it. I read the words printed on it out loud. “Led Zeppelin, Houses of the Holy. Tour dates and everything.” I twisted back to Sixx and hugged her hard. “You are unbelievable, Sixx. Thank you!” Sixx knew my all-time favorite song had always been “Ten Years Gone” by the mighty Led Zep, and I didn’t care who knew it. She was the only one who knew that I had been known to say I needed to “get the Led out” whenever I felt in dire need of a Zeppelin fix. I was unapologetic in my dorkdom.
Sixx shrugged. “Whatever. The tool at the shop didn’t even know what he had. Plus,” she looked at me with a glint in her eye, and I knew she would say it, even though she promised me she wouldn’t. “I had to get you
something
for your birthday, didn’t I?”
Creepshow nearly fell off the wall and Jett actually lowered his shades.
“Seriously, Juice, is it
really
your birthday?” Jett looked at me as if Sixx had just told him I might be a secret agent or something.
“Jett, I wasn’t trying to keep anything from you.” I glowered at Sixx, who always enjoyed being the whistleblower. “I just didn’t want anyone to make a big deal of it.”
“Yeah, well, now Sixx is the only one who got you anything for your birthday.” Creepshow almost pouted. “We look like cheap tools.”
“No, you don’t.” I punched him in the arm.
“Well, I still want to get you something. What do you want?”
“How about a good-looking boyfriend and an A in chem?”
Sixx made a face. “Ugh. Have you seen the boys at this school? Present company excepted, of course.”
“Right,” muttered Creepshow.
“Sweet,” said Jett.
“Most of them are Neanderthals.” Sixx rolled her eyes. “Jocks and geeks and dorks and freaks. This school is a breeding ground for idiots on parade.”
“I know.” I nodded, then held up one finger. “So, maybe instead I’ll just have an ice cream cake?” Sixx and Creepshow and Jett all looked at me and cracked up.
“That’s what I love about you, Juice,” said Sixx, throwing her arms around my shoulders. “You’ve always been willing to set your sights low.”
****
When the morning bell sounded, I went to homeroom. My last name is Zander, the end of the alphabet, so I didn’t get to be in the same class as any of my friends. Nicole “Sixx” Montgomery and Jason “Creepshow” Monroe were in the same class, and Jett Abbott’s first one happened to be on the other side of the building. We always got together again at lunch. So, of course, in the mornings, I got left alone again with the assorted freakage.
I walked into the classroom and assumed my place in back, then pulled my hoodie up and slumped down low in my seat. This had worked for halfway through the semester as long as I got to class early. Everyone left me alone. But today I noticed something different in class. Or rather, some
one
different. A new guy now sat two desks to the right of me. He had floppy blond hair and wore a hoodie, same as me. I looked at him and our eyes kind of locked. His were a beautiful blue color and he stared right back at me. Stunned, I realized the new guy was
smiling
at me. Boys of any kind smiling at me, or even looking in my direction, constituted such a foreign occurrence, my mind almost couldn’t process the correct response.
Oh, right. Smile back
. I tried it, forcing my mouth into the alien formation. It worked. The new guy’s smile broadened and unbelievably, he got up and moved to the desk next to mine. I tried not to faint.
“Hi. I’m Shane. Shane Elliott.”
“Hey. I’m Jui—Lucy. Lucy Zander.” I choked out the words. “Are you in the right homeroom? This is supposed to be for tenth grade, end-of-the-alphabet.” That would explain my good luck. It wasn’t good luck at all. This wasn’t even his class.
“Oh, that. Classroom overflow or something.”
“Hmm. Are you new?”
“Sort of.”
“That’s a weird answer.”
He laughed. “I know. But it’s the best one I’ve got.” He leaned forward. “Hey, what did you call yourself first? Before you said ‘Lucy’, you started to say something else.”
“Oh, that.”
Busted.
“It’s sort of a nickname. Juice.”
“Like for steroids?”
“No! Like for Lucy. Juicy Lucy?” Gee, I never realized how embarrassing my stupid nickname sounded until I had to explain it to a total stranger. Make that a totally cute stranger.
“It sounds like chewing gum.”
“Whatever.” Now, I was getting annoyed. “Just call me Lucy then. Or better yet, you don’t have to call me anything.” I made an exaggerated gesture of turning my body to the left, away from him. All of a sudden I’d become some kind of flirt-goddess.
Where did this come from?
Watching Sixx, no doubt. She was
way
to the left of shy.
“No. I kind of like Juice. It’s unique. Juice. Juice.” He kept saying my name, as if he was tasting it. Man, was I a magnet to that. I twisted back toward him.
“Well then, Shane. What’s your schedule? If you show me your room numbers, I can help you find them.” I took a notebook out of my backpack and opened it up to a blank page, intending to write down his classes.
He squirmed a little. “I’m not sure what my schedule is going to be just yet.”
“And you already have your homeroom assigned? That’s weird.”
He started to answer when the bell rang. The classroom flooded with kids. Soon, the desks filled up and I thought Shane might be sitting in someone’s assigned seat. Sure enough, a beefy jock from the football team came charging down the aisle, headed for the seat Shane occupied. I wanted to say something when he sat right down on top of Shane. Or, what would have been Shane if he had still been sitting there. I know I never even blinked, but one minute Shane was there, and the next minute I found myself staring into the craggy face of Brian Yates, one of MacGregor High School’s Warrior football players. It sounds crazy, but Shane seemed to
fade
into Brian, until he disappeared and only Brian remained.
I sat there gaping at Brian until he got mad.
“What the heck are you staring at?”
I snapped my mouth closed and rotated all the way around in my seat. Where in the world had Shane gone? I looked around the classroom but I didn’t see him. When Mr. Blake came in and starting calling the roll, I listened carefully, but I never heard Shane’s name. It wasn’t until homeroom ended that I looked down at my notebook and saw the neatly printed words in an unfamiliar script.
I’ll explain everything later. Shane.
This is when the weirdest week of my life totally began to rev up.
Astraea Press
Where Fiction Meets Virtue
www.astraeapress.com
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