Kelly McClymer-Must Love Black (19 page)

“You’ll be running your new high school before long,” Mom teased, as if she thought swapping schools was as easy as swapping Swatch bands.

Dad was more serious, as always. “As long as you keep your grades up, we’ll be happy, Prudence honey. We don’t need you to be head cheerleader or elected to class government to know you’re special.”

Special. He says that word with a wince. Poor Dad. He never really got used to living with a witch or raising two children who could do magic. If I were a good daughter, unselfish and properly thinking of my family, I’d appreciate how hard it was for him to agree to my mother’s request to take us to Salem, her birthplace, so that we could learn to use the magic that had been highly discouraged here in the mortal realm.

Why did they suddenly decide to make this move? Did Dad get a fabulous new job at his advertising company so Mom and I could splurge on shopping and spa weekends? As if. No. We’re moving because of Dorklock—otherwise known as my younger brother, Tobias. When the hormones hit, he couldn’t control his magic. After the third time poor Miss Samsky’s skirt flew up in the middle of summer school math class, my mother had our house up for sale and my golden life at Beverly Hills High up in flames. Boys are dumb. Especially when they’re twelve. I would have voted to send him away to magic boarding school. But I don’t get a vote. Because life is unfair.

I think Dad was tempted. After all, he is a non-magical mortal who is much happier when there are strict rules against uncontrolled magic in the house. But the idea that my brother could go to a school where teachers would be able to do simple spells against his simpleton magic until he learns to control it was a strong argument. Besides, my mother said she’d move us to Salem with Dad or without him. And he really adores her, no matter how much magic makes him nervous.

Dorklock doesn’t even mind that he’s ruined our lives. He thinks it’s cool that we’ll be in Salem, living in the witch realm and able to use our magic without the usual restrictions we have in order to live with mortals. What can I say? He’s a kid. He doesn’t understand that, as the newbies in school, we’ll be on a lower scale than even the lowliest freshman. Of course, he’s used to being a scud, the lowest of the low.

But I’m not. I’m honor society. I was going to be head cheerleader. My life was supposed to be charmed, even with the big, bad magic prohibition. I had it all arranged—head cheerleader, and then maybe even class president. Fast-track ticket to the college of my choice in my pretty pink Coach bag. After all, I deserved it. I’d been working on being kewl since preschool. In Beverly Hills.

Thank goodness I know how to plan for the—majorly—unexpected. If I have to go (and apparently I do), I intend

to keep my kewl. Even if I have to use magic to do it. Which is going to be a mondo change. Me, doing magic and not getting grounded for it.

But even I could not have prepared for just how fast our lives were about to change. The first thing that told me my life was going to do a midair flip in turbo speed was the actual day of departure. Instead of moving men and moving trucks, Mom flashed everything from our old house to our new house. One minute there, the next, gone. Dad kept watch at the window to make sure no nosy neighbors saw our insta-move.

Mom’s sentimental and likes rituals, so we all stood in the living room and said farewell to the house. We sprinkled just a bit of incense to leave the next family a nice welcome, and then she said softly,

“Bless this house and all its walls, We have lived here safe and sound. Now we move to our new home, Shift our things and cleanse this ground.”

Zip zap. Empty rooms. Clean rooms. Fresh, blah cream paint on the walls. Even though the empty rooms of the house echoed and looked strange without all our furniture and knickknacks, I’d coped. But then I noticed that she hadn’t just painted and cleaned with a zap.

“What happened to the lines on the door?” The careful nicks in the living room door frame that had charted my growth—and Dorklock’s, of course—were gone. Missing. The wood was smooth, the paint perfect.

I’d been holding it together ever since Mom and Dad had said we were moving. No discussion. No appeals. No surprise. A cheerleader knows how to put a smile on, after all. But sometimes a girl’s gotta let her true feelings be known so she doesn’t get squashed flat like a frog on the freeway.

“The real estate agent will have an easier time selling the place if we leave it spiffed up,” Dad said. “Wouldn’t want someone new to have to do all the sanding and painting and such.”

It was another sign that everything familiar was being turned upside down—Dad never calmly accepts Mom using “big” magic. Which is pretty much anything more than zapping an extra serving of popcorn if we run out and it’s too late to run to the market. Normally I’d suspect him of taking a couple of Xanax, but he was about to drive and he doesn’t even take an antihistamine if he’s going to be behind the wheel. My dad makes a square look like it has sloppy corners.

“Put it back.” I looked at Mom. “It’s the house’s character. You’ve said so a million times.”

“It’s only a thing, sweetheart. Remember, things are not important, people are. And the new people will make their own memories and create their own character for this house.”

“It’s not fair!” I whined. Harps sounded, mocking my words.
It’s not fair.
I tried to shoot the thoughts through my blazing eyes. I think it worked, because my parents looked taken aback. And harp music didn’t play.

“That’s enough out of you, young lady,” my dad said. The move had gotten on his nerves too. “Get out to the car right now.”

I thought about making a grand gesture—running off to my room, slamming my door, refusing to go. But the room was empty. All my stuff was gone to the new house. Grand gestures shouldn’t be wasted. We only get so many in one lifetime (or so says Grandmama, Queen of High Drama).

“Time to go.” Mom was grimly cheerful. She was usually the optimist to his pessimist. But I think leaving was hard for her. This was her first home with my dad. Where she’d raised us. She was going back home, sort of. But I don’t think she liked it. Not that she was going to do less than she thought was right for her children.

Too bad she didn’t believe in witch boot camp. Dorklock was the perfect candidate. He was already out in the SUV, just waiting to go. He didn’t even mind leaving everything behind. He’d like boot camp. It was the perfect solution. Apparently, in her eyes, perfect mothers didn’t send their imperfect children away. Too bad she couldn’t see the situation through my eyes.

Then again, maybe she did, a little. She put her arm around me and led me out. As we passed the door, she touched the
spot where the notches had been and they reappeared. “Even a new family can enjoy a little lingering character.”

“Just a minute.” I stood there looking at the naked rooms that weren’t anything like home anymore. I touched the top notch, and my name,
PRUDENCE
, appeared in the wood. Not to leave the Dorklock out, although he probably deserved it, I touched his top line and his name,
TOBIAS
, appeared. His top line was only a little under mine, despite the fact that he’s four years younger. Soon he would be taller. Would there be a door frame to notch in the new house? And did it matter, when it wasn’t home and never would be?

For a moment, I considered locking the front door to the house and refusing to leave. But, seriously, I’m in it to win it, just like a good cheerleader should be. What was there to win in refusing to go? An empty house that wasn’t ours anymore? All my things were far away, in Salem.

Still, it was hard not to revert to the Terrible Twos. And I guess it showed, because when Dad came back he gave Mom that “Is she sane?” look they like to use when they think I’m being unreasonable. “Ready, princess?”

Princess? More like medieval serf. It’s a wonder I’m a leader at school, considering how they treat me like a baby. I tried not to cry. Crying makes my voice shake. And voice-shaking is not leadership-quality behavior. I may have been forced to leave my cheerleading squad behind, but I would
go with head high and a big fake smile in place. If only—

“We’re going to come back,” I began. “Why can’t we just leave the house . . .”

“I’m not made of money, princess. We’ll make a nice profit on the house. That’s how we can afford the pool in the new place.”

Pool. Big deal. Although, I suppose it could come in handy in establishing kewl status in Salem.

I walked out the door, fighting tears, to see a dozen girls in cheerleading uniforms on the lawn Tobias had just mowed for the last time this morning. The whole A squad. All sixteen of them, including Chezzie, who hates me, and Maddie, my best friend. In full gear.

All I could think for a second was that I needed to grab my uniform and fall in line. But I’d turned my uniform in to Coach. In the heartbeat it took for the gut-punch to hit me that I was no longer a part of the squad, that it was complete without me, they geared up and began a cheer.

“Gimme a B!”

“Gimme a Y!”

“Gimme an E!”

“Noooooooooooooooooooo.”

“We love Pru so so much.”

“We can’t let her goooooo.”

“So come back soon and we’ll cheer.”

“For Pru, our leader dear.”

I didn’t want to cry, because Chezzie was watching and she’d tell everyone, including Brent, my crush du jour. I’d been planning to wage a campaign to get him to take me to the junior prom this year. It was bad enough that I had to leave without knowing if the definite buzz between Brent and me would turn into a nice hot relationship. I didn’t need Chezzie talking to him and making sure he wouldn’t talk to me if I
did
manage to talk Mom and Dad into coming back. I could just imagine, “She was so jealous of how good we looked without her, she was screaming with rage.” Chezzie puts the yotch in beeyotch.

Not that Chezzie would be wrong. I
was
jealous of them. Jealous that their worlds weren’t being ripped into confetti. Jealous that they weren’t going to have to piece all the confetti together again in another place and put on a smile while doing it.

So by the time the cheer ended, I’d managed to stop the waterworks. My cheeks were wet and I know my mascara was probably running, but at least I wasn’t squirting tears like an insane teenage water fountain. I wish I’d thought to put on waterproof mascara, but I hadn’t been planning to swim—or cry my eyes out either.

The squad stood for a moment in ready position, like we’d all been taught: take the bow, accept the appreciation, be proud. I had about a nanosecond to respond, and the wrong response could mean I’d be lower than a scud if I was lucky
enough to convince my parents to come back home where we belonged. Reputation is precious, and I didn’t want to lose mine in the last sixty seconds I lived in Beverly Hills.

“You guys!” I ran to hug them before they could move toward me. “I’m going to miss you!” I really was going to miss everyone but Chezzie, the snake with fake double-D’s, but there was no point saying so out loud. Truth is, a good head cheerleader knows her team, and I knew mine, good and bad.

Maddie ran to meet me and we hugged. There were tears in her eyes and her embrace was no weak-armed “let me see whether you have silicone or saline” hug. She grabbed me like she wasn’t going to let me go. Now I had an excuse for my drippy mascara. She whispered, “Run away and I’ll sneak you into my closet. No one will know.”

“My mom knows everything.” It’s a standing joke with my friends and enemies alike that my mother knows what I do before I do it. They don’t know the half of it. Mom has those CIA tracking devices in the movies beat—she’s set so many protective spells over me, it’s amazing I can walk or talk half the time.

“I’ll distract her. You run. ’Cause I don’t think I can face junior year without you.” That’s Maddie, trying to cheer me up by letting me know how miserable she is. “You’ll be fine. Look at what a great cheer you just gave.” Besides, she wasn’t changing schools and didn’t have to snarf up kewl status from
squat. But there was no point sour-graping her. It wasn’t her fault I was moving. And she
had
offered me her closet.

“But you’ve been working on the cheer routine all summer. All we did was tweak it to fit today.”

Trust Maddie to think that would make me feel better. I’d given her the notebook with all my routines and the music. Not that Maddie would ever be captain of the squad. She’s a mouse when it comes to leadership. She’s a great right hand, and I wish I could pack her in my suitcase, but I only gave her the notebook because I couldn’t bear to give it to Chezzie.

I hugged her tight. “I’m going to miss you most of all. Don’t forget to text me everything that’s happening.”

“You too.” She glanced at my dad, who was making shooing motions toward the car. “Maybe you can come back soon.”

“Maybe.” I didn’t try to sound hopeful. I wasn’t.

“The team thought you should have this.” Chezzie walked up to us and thrust a package with a big bow on it at me. “Salem—isn’t that where the witches were? That should make you feel at home.”

Chezzie and I used to be best friends. Until I told her I was a witch and she pulled out her cross and holy water and started to exorcise me. Picture me and Chezzie, about eight. She has a pink plastic bottle of holy water and a matching lavender cross. I have a horrified expression.

Even though Mom wiped her memory, mine is still intact. Chezzie is prejudiced, and I’m just not up with that.
Not that she remembers I’m a real witch, of course. But something stuck, because if she’s not calling me a bitch, she’s calling me a witch. It’ll be interesting to see what witches call one another when they’re PMSing. Mortals? I don’t think so.

Chezzie was smiling and acting like she was joking, but I knew better. I unwrapped the package to find a shiny new Splitflex. Perfect for the girl without a cheerleading squad. Still, I hugged her and laughed. “Good luck to all of you—and be good to your new captain, whoever she is.”

That dimmed Chezzie’s bleached-bright grin. But only for a second. “Oh, I’ll make sure they are. And don’t worry, I’ll be a good captain, maybe even better than you would have been.”