Peachville High Demons 01: Beautiful Demons (13 page)

“What?” she asked, quickly pulling down her shirt.

“That tattoo?”

The room grew oddly quiet. Lark and Brooke exchanged glances. “I don't have a tattoo,” she said, laughing. But her laugh came out nervous. She was hiding something.

“Yes you do,” I said. “I saw it. Here, lift up your shirt.”

“Stop,” she said, moving away.

Her tone stung.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. I hadn't meant to make anyone upset, but I had definitely seen something tattooed on her back. An animal of some sort, I thought. But there was a strangeness to it. The colors had been too bright. Maybe it was just one of those fake tattoos, and I had embarrassed her or something.

“Let's get to work,” Brooke said.

Everyone gathered together in the middle of the room to teach me the cheers and after just a few minutes, the awkwardness of the tattoo incident was gone. But in the back of my mind, the oddness of it lingered. Between the girl who had fallen from the pyramid and now the weirdness of the tattoo, I felt like someone was keeping secrets from me.

At the same time, what did it matter? Was I willing to let a few secrets or awkward misunderstandings get in the way of my new happiness? No way. I threw myself into learning the cheers and the one dance the girls said would be used for the auditions next Thursday after school.

It took some serious work. I wasn't the most coordinated person in the world. But after a few times through, I was really getting the hang of it.

“Not bad,” Brooke said. She gave me some pointers, then stood back to watch me run through the cheers one more time. “If you keep working hard this week, I don't see any reason you wouldn't make the squad.”

“Really?” Thinking about the auditions made me nervous. I didn't even want to see who all showed up Monday.

“You've got this,” Lark said, squeezing my arm.

I smiled, feeling better now that she seemed to have forgiven me for the whole tattoo thing. “I'm going to run to the bathroom,” I said. Brooke told me where I could find one and I rushed out of the room.

When I came back, though, I heard them talking about me. I pressed against the wall, staying out of sight.

“Why can't we tell her, though?” That was Allison. “If she's the Prima, why can't we just tell her everything and get it over with?”

“It's not that simple,” Lark said.

“You need to be more careful about who sees that tattoo,” Brooke said.

So I was right about her having one, but why did it matter? It wasn't like I was going to judge anyone for having a dumb tattoo.

“I know. I didn't mean to show it, but we were playing around and my shirt came up. It happens.”

I scooted closer to the edge of the wall, hoping to hear better, but my toe made a popping sound. I cringed as the living room went silent.

“Harper?”

I tiptoed back down the hall a bit, then walked normal, as if I was just coming back. “Yep,” I said. “What's next on the agenda?”

“Sleep,” Brooke said with a yawn. “It's already almost three-thirty.”

Later, after everyone had climbed into sleeping bags on the living room floor, my mind refused to rest. Everything had been so strange since my illness, and things just weren't adding up. Allison had said I was the Prima. What did that mean exactly?

Fragments of a strange dream I'd had when I was passed out with fever came to me suddenly. A silver knife. A woman with blood red eyes.

“
The Prima has finally come home,”
the voice had said in my dream.

I felt along the diagonal scar on my palm. Ella Mae had told me I cut my hand on a piece of glass when I passed out in the bathroom that night after I got back from the police station. She said I'd been holding a cup of tea and when I fell, it broke. One of the jagged pieces sliced open my hand. I'd believed her. But now...

I wasn't so sure.

Promise Me

The day after the slumber party, I stood by my bedroom window for a long time. Waiting.

Around two in the afternoon, I saw him. Jackson came around the side of the barn and slipped inside. I needed to talk to him. I forced myself to walk normal all the way through the hall, down the stairs and out the back door. I glanced around the yard to make sure no one was watching, then hurried in after him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. He was sitting on a crate near the back of the barn, smoking a cigarette, and I felt the strongest wave of deja vu.

“Looking for you,” I said.

“Ah.” He slid off the top of the crate and came toward me. “This is a first, but I'll go with it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I've been here before,” he said.

I studied him. I didn't think he was talking about deja vu, but it was strange that I had just had that feeling of having been here before too.

“If you've been here before, then how is this a first?”

“It's hard to explain,” he said. “Besides, you'd probably just forget even if I told you.”

My stomach tightened. “What do you know about me forgetting things?”

He sighed and shook his head. “Nothing, Harper. It doesn't matter.”

“It matters to me,” I said. “Ever since I got sick, I've been having these weird moments where I feel like I'm almost remembering something that happened to me. Then, I lose it. Like I'm not sure what's real and what was a dream.”

That same sad look crossed his face again. “I can't help you,” he said. “It's too late.”

“Too late? What are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about this.” He picked up my scarred hand and opened it, palm up.

“Your mother told me I fell and cut my hand on a teacup.”

He snorted. “Don't believe everything you hear.”

“I keep remembering this crazy dream. There were these people chanting all around me and a woman with red eyes cut me with a silver knife. She called me the Prima.”

Jackson's eyes grew wide and he tilted his head to the side. “The Prima?”

I nodded.

“Are you sure that's what she said?”

“I'm not sure of anything,” I said. “So many things are fuzzy. Like you. That day in the courtyard when I came back to school. You acted like we knew each other, but I couldn't remember ever talking to you before. What does it mean, anyway?”

“I can't talk to you about this,” he said, throwing his cigarette to the ground and stomping on it. He started to walk toward the door, but I stepped into his path.

“Why not?”

“There are rules, Harper. I know you don't understand what's going on here, but I'm bound by an oath older than time.”

Deja vu again. I'd heard those words before, I was certain.

“There are rules I have to follow.”

“Whose rules?”

He shook his head. “I can't tell you.”

“But something is strange about this place. I can feel it.” I paced in front of the door. “Were you at the game last night? One of the cheerleaders broke her neck when she fell off the top of the pyramid. I heard it. But she got up and she was fine. Like nothing ever happened. But I know what I saw. I feel like I'm going crazy."

Jackson ran a hand through his hair. “I wish I could help you. I tried,” he said. “But you've got a new life now, am I right?”

“I don't know,” I said. “Sometimes I feel happier than I've ever felt before, but then other times, it feels like everyone is lying to me.”

“I've gotta go.” He moved around me and pushed open the door, but I grabbed his hand and pulled him back.

“Please,” I said. “What is a Prima?”

He looked deep into my eyes and I knew that we were connected somehow. I couldn't explain it. Slowly, he leaned down and took my head in his hands. He was going to kiss me, and in that moment, I wanted him to. I leaned forward and our lips met.

A flash of memory jolted through me. I was in his room and we were kissing. Everything we'd talked about and been through came back to me in a heady rush. The drawings. The room full of flames. I pulled away, gasping. Tears sprang to my eyes.

“What happened?” I asked. “Why couldn't I remember?”

“Listen to me,” he said. “You're going to forget again. Soon. It's part of the spell. But you can fight it, Harper. From the moment I saw you, I knew you were different from the other girls.”

His words were almost the same as what Drake had said to me. I opened my mouth to ask him what made me so different from everyone else, but he placed a finger over my lips.

“We don't have much time,” he said. “Do you remember the drawing? The one of you standing in a room of flames?”

I remembered.

“I think it's going to happen soon. I drew it again last night, but this time the picture was different,” he said. He ran his hand along my collarbone and fingered the sapphire pendant around my neck. “This time you were wearing your necklace. Promise me you won't take it off, okay? Promise you'll wear it every single day, no matter what.”

I nodded.

Jackson leaned down and brushed my lips lightly with his, then slid out of the barn. No matter how hard I tried to hold onto them, moments later my memories of him began to fade.

This Week Is Going To Be Tough

Monday afternoon, I joined eight other sophomore girls in the gym for cheerleading tryouts. Never in my life had I even considered being friends with a cheerleader, much less actually trying to become one. Until Peachville. Everything was different here. Ever since I lost my adoptive family and was put into the foster care system, I'd been looking for a place where I could fit in. All I ever wanted was to belong somewhere. To have a family who truly cared about me and wanted me in their lives. From the way Brooke and the others interacted, they seemed like a family. And if I could become a part of that, it might be the closest I'd ever come to my dream. At least while I was still in high school.

If I didn't make the squad, I wasn't sure what would happen to my friendship with the other girls. They had become my friends before Mrs. King ever mentioned the tryouts, so I wanted to believe that win or lose, they would still be my friends. But at the same time, being a part of the team would mean daily practices, special trips, away games, and all kinds of time spent together. I wanted it bad.

When Agnes walked into the gym and saw me already sitting on the shiny floor with my loaner pom poms, my stomach tensed. A scowl crossed her face and she took a deep breath, then shaking it off, she smiled and walked straight over to me.

“Hey,” she said, grabbing some blue pom poms from the pile and sitting down next to me. “Look, I know I've been really weird about this whole cheerleading thing. But I don't like not being able to be friends with you. And I know I can't expect you not to make friends here at PHS or want to be a part of such an awesome squad. Besides, I was thinking that it would suck if we were mad at each other over this forever. One of us might make the squad now and the other one might audition for next year's squad.”

“I guess that's true,” I said. I hadn't thought about next year's auditions yet. I wasn't in the habit of thinking so far ahead at a new school. “I'm glad you came over to talk to me. I hate not being able to talk to you like we used to.”

“I know, me too.” Her smile seemed genuine. “Let's just try to forget about any kind of jealousy and try to have fun this week.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said.

Mrs. King walked through the door and clapped a few times. “Girls, I'm so happy you all came out today. We never anticipate having to replace a member of our squad like this, and what happened is a terrible tragedy for our entire school. At the same time, I know Tori would have wanted us to move on and compete in the state cheerleading competitions this winter and next spring. In order to do that, we have to have one more girl, so that's why we're all here today.

“As you know, I've only asked sophomores to come out today. That's because I want to keep the current squad balanced and make sure there are enough experienced members to move up next year. With that said, this week is going to be tough. I expect you to be here every afternoon this week from three to five. If you are late, you'll be automatically disqualified. Any questions?”

Agnes raised her hand.

“Yes, Agnes?”

“I was wondering if there are any extra rehearsals planned for those of us who want to put in more time and make sure we've really got them down?”

“As a matter of fact, there will be an extended practice at my house on Wednesday afternoon with the current squad. All of you are invited to attend, but it's not mandatory. It will be a good opportunity to spend time with the squad and see how you fit in and to watch the more experienced girls do the routines,” she said. “That will be from five to six-thirty or so.”

She glanced around the room. No one else had any questions.

“Let's get started, then.”

For the next two hours, Mrs. King and some of the other cheerleaders took us through the routines and cheers I learned Friday night. Some of these girls were serious competition. Including Agnes. She obviously knew her stuff.

I didn't do too badly, but I was still struggling with a few of the routines, especially the long dance.

“Don't worry,” Agnes said after practice while we were waiting for Ella Mae to pick us up. “You'll get the hang of it. It's the same dance we learned at last year's tryouts, so I already knew it, but you've almost got it down already. If you want to practice some at home this week, just come and get me.”

“Thanks. I'm really glad we're talking again. I would hate to lose you as a friend.”

“I know, me too.” She looked at me with a smile, then her eyes traveled down toward my neck and her face fell. Confusion flashed across her features.

I touched my pendant self-consciously. “What's wrong?”

She shook her head slightly. “Nothing,” she said. “I thought you lost that.”

“What? My pendant?” I looked toward the ground, trying to remember. “I don't think so.”

A distant memory threatened to rise to the surface, but was lost in a sea of mist. The cut on my hand began to throb.

Is This Supposed To Be A Good Luck Charm?

By the time Wednesday's practice arrived, I felt much more confident about the routines. I felt like I was finally settling in somewhere for the first time. It was nice to have friends and make plans for the future. At lunch, I always sat with Brooke and the others. Drake had started walking me to my classes. Nothing old fashioned like offering to carry my books or anything, but he was obviously paying a lot of attention to me.