Rhymes With Witches (11 page)

Chase broke off in the middle of his sentence. “Yeah. Why?”

“Just … you're really good,” Mary Bryan said. “That was terrific how you scored all those goals last weekend.”

“Thanks,” he said. He noticed her cleavage—it was pretty impossible not to—and with some sort of guy code, he got Steve to notice, too. “What's your name again?”

“Mary Bryan,” she said.

Chase draped his arm around her shoulders. Stuart, who was getting it on film, zoomed in close. To someone else he said, “Hey, bro, check out the titties!” The Mary Bryan on the raft couldn't hear, but the four of us at Bitsy's could.

“Tell you what,” Chase said, all pals-y and smooth. “Find me at the picnic area, after we get off the river, and I'll go over the highlights with you. Sound good?”

Mary Bryan's face lit up, and for a second, she looked like the Mary Bryan I knew now. “Okay. Sure!”

The camera jiggled and panned back to the other raft. Keisha and Bitsy were squealing and drawing up their legs while two
guys wrestled each other for the tap of the keg. Drops of beer landed on the camera lens.

“Geronimo!” one of the two yelled as he pushed the other overboard.

“Hold on, Mike,” Stuart called. “The Stu-Man is on the way!”

The image shook, followed by a blip of static. The screen went blank.

“That was my tryout,” Mary Bryan said after what seemed like hours. She didn't meet anyone's eyes. “I didn't … I had no idea …”

Keisha studied the sofa cushion. Bitsy gazed at Mary Bryan. Her expression was unreadable.

Mary Bryan laughed shakily. “Can we burn it, please?”

Bitsy strolled behind her and stroked her hair. “Don't be a ninny. How else would we prove how far you've come?”

“Why would we need to?” Mary Bryan said. “I'm serious. Can we please burn it?”

“We should certainly burn that bathing suit,” Bitsy said. “Wretched.”

Keisha stayed serious. “Tell Jane the rest.”

Mary Bryan's cheeks went from red to redder. “Oh, let's not. I mean, god. She probably already hates me.” She turned to me. “You do, don't you?”

“No,” I said. “Of course not!” I wanted to hug her. I wanted to go back in time and make the rafting trip go away.

“If you don't, I will,” Bitsy said.

Mary Bryan looked like she might cry.

“Actually, it's okay,” I offered. “Whatever it is, you don't—”

“Just get it over with,” Keisha said.

Mary Bryan looped a strand of hair around her finger. “It was an accident. I'd had too much to drink.” She drew her knees to her chest. “I'd really rather not …”

“She and Chase had sex on top of a picnic table,” Bitsy said. “Lovely, yes?”

I saw it in my mind—Mary Bryan, Chase, the picnic table—and I wished I hadn't.

“We weren't, like, right out in the middle of everyone,” Mary Bryan said. “It wasn't like everyone could see.”

I nodded. I gave her my best imitation of a smile.

“I'd had too much to drink, that's all. And it was dark. And honestly, I didn't even …”

“We all make mistakes,” Keisha said.

“That's right,” Mary Bryan said.

“And we learn from those mistakes and become better people,” Bitsy said in a singsong voice. She snorted. “Either that or we get fixed, which is infinitely more effective.”

“Huh?” I said.

“Nothing,” Keisha said. She shot Bitsy a look.

“We
are
going to tell her, aren't we?” Bitsy asked. “She's this year's lucky winner, after all.”

I knew something was going on between them. It's not as if
my brain passed over it. And it's not as if I passed over the whole Mary Bryan thing, either. But I latched onto the phrase “this year's lucky winner,” and my blood pulsed faster. I had the brief thought of asking about Sandy—Had they heard of her? What did
they
know?—but I knew I wouldn't. It would complicate things unnecessarily.

Keisha stood up and began collecting Diet Coke cans. “Our decision's not final until tomorrow.” She glanced briefly at me. Almost as if she were apologizing, she said, “We had to meet with you one last time. You understand.”

“Sure,” I said. “Okay.”

“So we'll let you know.”

“Great. Sounds good.”

I hesitated, then got to my feet and helped clean up. As I was collecting Diet Coke cans, Mary Bryan approached me.

“I'm not that girl anymore,” she said.

“I know,” I said, because I got it. Mary Bryan had changed, and I wanted to, too.

Bitsy took me home, with Mary Bryan and Keisha in tow. We stopped at Steak and Shake for dinner, which surprised me, but I didn't complain. A few other kids from school were there, too. Sukie Karing. Josh Barnett. I tried to act nonchalant, but I was puffed with pride that I was the one entering with Keisha, Mary Bryan, and Bitsy. Sitting at their table. Sharing their conversation.

“Double cheeseburger, fries, and a Sprite,” Bitsy said when our waitress approached. “No, strike that. Chocolate shake.”

“Whipped cream?” the waitress asked.

“Hell yeah,” Bitsy said. She looked at the rest of us. “What? A girl's got to eat.”

“Right, which is why your fridge is stocked with pita bread and Diet Coke,” Mary Bryan said. I could have been wrong, but it seemed like a bit of a payback.

“Hey, that's my mum's food,” Bitsy said.

Mary Bryan made a face. “Hate pita bread.”

“So shove it up your ass,” Bitsy suggested.

“The rest of you know what you want?” the waitress asked.

We ordered. As soon as the waitress left, Sukie Karing slid out of her booth and came over to ours. Her eyes lit briefly on me—curious, I could tell—but it was Keisha she directed her comments toward.

“Oh my god. Did you hear? About Mr. Cohen?”

Keisha lifted her head.

“What happened?” Mary Bryan asked.

Sukie gripped the edge of the table. “He might have
rabies
.”

“What in bloody hell are you talking about?” Bitsy said.

Now Sukie focused on Bitsy, almost as if she'd been waiting for permission. “He got scratched by one of those cats. You know, at school? It was curled up under his jacket on a sofa in the teacher's lounge. He reached for his jacket to put it on, and the cat went nuts and attacked him. I'm not kidding.”

“You were there, were you?” Bitsy said. “You saw it with your own two eyes?”

“No, but everyone's talking about it. He got scratched all down one arm. He had to go to the hospital.”

“I don't think you can get rabies from a cat scratch,” Mary Bryan said.

“Well, maybe not rabies,” Sukie said. “But it's like, those cats are a total menace. What if it had been a student who got scratched?” She leaned forward and spaced out her words. “Total. Law. Suit. City.”

“Lawsuit city,” Bitsy repeated. She shared a glance with Keisha. “Hmm.”

“One chocolate shake, two Sprites, one water,” our waitress said. “Now, who had the water?”

Sukie stepped to the side, edged out by the tray. “Anyway, it's just really terrible, that's all. Poor Mr. Cohen.”

Bitsy accepted her shake and took a sip. She smiled up at the waitress and said, “Do you think I could have an extra cherry? If it's not too much trouble.”

“I'll bring you a whole cupful,” the waitress said. “How's that sound?”

“Marvelous,” Bitsy said.

Sukie nibbled at her fingernail. “Well. I guess I better go back. I just wanted to let you know.”

“Right, then,” Bitsy said. “Thanks for the chat.”

“Oh, sure. No problem. All right, well …” She raised her hand. “Bye!”

“Ta!” Bitsy called. She waited until Sukie was gone, then shook her head. “Ah, Sukie.”

Mary Bryan giggled.

I fiddled with my straw. “I've gotten scratched by a cat millions of times,” I said, “and I've never gone to the hospital.”

“Bingo,” Bitsy said. “And that, luv, is one of the many reasons we picked you and not her.”

“Huh?” I said.

Bitsy winked, and I did the
ha-ha, very funny
thing. A tingling warmth rose inside me.

The waitress returned with a plastic condiment cup filled with cherries. Bitsy selected the shiniest one and popped it in her mouth.

Three messages waited for me at home, all from Alicia. “Jane, pick up,” came the first one. “We're leaving in fifteen minutes.” Then came, “Jane! Where are you! Karaoke, remember?” And finally, “You better not have blown me off. I mean it. We'll swing by your house just in case—you better be there!”

I leaned against the counter. Crap. Guilt knuckled down inside me, along with frustration at the unfairness of it. I
hadn't
blown her off. I'd honestly forgotten we had plans. But I knew she'd be pissed regardless.

Ah, shit.

I picked up the phone, knowing it would only be worse if I left it until tomorrow. Plus, if I called her now, she wouldn't be there.
She'd still be at the karaoke bar, nursing a Coke and her indignation.

“Hey, Alicia, it's me,” I said after the beep. “I am so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me, I swear. I fell asleep in the library, can you believe it? I'm a total loser, I know. So anyway, hope you had a great time. See you tomorrow!”

I still had the taste of french fries in my mouth. It was making me thirsty.

The next day I made a point of getting to my locker way early so that I wouldn't run into Alicia, and I managed to dodge her between classes as well. After French, I met up with the Bitches. Me and Mary Bryan and Keisha and Bitsy. They didn't say anything to me, just, “Right, let's go.” When we got to Bitsy's, it was like total déjà-vu. Same empty house, same white sofas. Although this time we had Perrier and soy nuts, so it wasn't completely the same after all.

I sat down on one sofa, and the three of them sat across from me on the other. I twisted my fingers in my lap.