Witcha'be (16 page)

“I’ve about had it with you,” the usher growled at me. “Passes are for first row only. Come on, redhead.” Bianca sneered over her shoulder as the usher steered her by the arm.

Ignoring the pain, I balled my fists and whirled, charging toward my seat.

“Molly, wait! I’m staying with you.”

I turned to see Lenni lunge in my direction, and then whiplash back.

“Oh, no you don’t, blondie.” The usher jerked Lenni’s upper arm. “You’re going exactly where that tag around your neck says. Backstage.” One hand clamped on Lenni’s bicep, the other on Bianca’s, she marched the girls down a shadowed hallway.

I stomped to my seat and sat down hard. My palm hurt. I flexed it gently then used my worthless ticket stub to blot the thin line of blood.

“Thank you! I love you all. Goodnight!” Dizzy bowed, surrounded by swirling lights and purple fog. The arena went black as the crowd roared.

Red devil-horns—hundreds of them—glowed. Panic swelled in my throat as disembodied moans filled the stadium. I hiccupped, evoking crazy laughter from the dark as a cold finger tapped my shoulder then slid up the back of my neck. Hot breath swirled in my ear. “You wanna party?” The whisperer smelled like salami.

“Get away from me!” I jumped from my chair and ran down the aisle, bumping into bodies and trampling feet. Hands groped me.

Hic!

Florescent bulbs blinked to life overhead, bathing the trash-littered arena in light, transforming devil-horns into ridiculous, plastic headbands and cold-fingered demons into bleary-eyed people.

Exhausted, I walked on rubbery legs through the lobby then collapsed on a bench near the exit. I reclined across the seat to deter anyone from sitting next to me. Outside the huge window, rain drizzled and lightning lit the black sky. The crowd disappeared into the storm. I wondered if Lenni had called her mom to let her know we’d be staying a while.

Bianca was probably entertaining the band with her witchy party tricks, convincing them of her powers.

Knowledgeable enough to be believable, beautiful enough to be persuasive. A witch, alright. But not the mystical kind. The mean-spirited,
lying
kind.

I slid to the end of the bench and helped myself to a handful of fliers. On a bright-orange page was a picture of four guys with tight pants, protruding bellies and thinning hair. The men scowled like angst-ridden teenagers, but looked like car salesmen squinting into the sun.

85.5 FM, Awesome 80’s Rock, is proud to present SQUALLER! All original band members performing the hits they made famous.

I folded the advertisement, flinching as it grazed my tender palm. Maybe Mom would want to go. I slipped it into my shoe then thumbed through the rest of the fliers. Reading created a diversion—a trick Mom had taught me as a child to distract me when I’d had chickenpox, to keep me from scratching.

As I read, my boiling mind slowed to a simmer.
Hurt manifests ange
r. Greg’s message drifted through me like a gentle, cooling breeze. Bianca still mourned the loss of her brother. Plus, she felt responsible for his death. Her mother was institutionalized, following a botched suicide attempt, and her father might be an alcoholic. Maybe it was Bianca’s
life
that was terrible, not Bianca.

I made up my mind not to use her personal problems against her in anger. I’d never stoop that low. Mrs. Piper said self-control was a gift, one I already possessed and needed to use.

A few employees ambled through the empty foyer. I rested my eyes as rain pelted the window. Were Mom and Pam waiting in the parking lot? Maybe I could borrow a phone and find out.

I opened my eyes just as Bianca and Lenni swung into view, sporting identical Dizzy t-shirts. Spotting me, Lenni quickened her pace. I swung my feet to the floor.

“We got you something.” Her words echoed through the vacant lobby. She unrolled a large poster across her body. “Ta-da! Do you love it? I thought it might make up for…everything.” She peeked around Dizzy’s picture, her eyes hopeful. “The new one,
Dizzy’s
Epidemic
. You can add it to the collection on your wall.”

I gazed at it, my spirits lifting.

“See, Dizzy signed it for you, down on the corner.” She tapped the poster.

“Where?” I squinted at the red and black smear.

“Right here.” She tapped again. “Bianca accidentally spilled her raspberry soda on it, but she caught it before ruining the whole thing. She felt bad about it. We wiped off what we could.”

I looked closer at the splotch. I could almost make out part of my name.

The broken rubber band inside my mind quivered, loose ends itching my brain. Chicken pox without a diversion.

I stood, snatched the poster from Lenni and ripped it in two.

“No! Molly, why?”

I tore it crossways again, and again, and then threw the pieces into the air, scattering them on the tile.

Lenni’s lip trembled. Bianca’s twitched into a smirk.

“Hey! You’re gonna clean that up,” a man with a push broom yelled from the far end of the lobby. Lenni scrambled to her knees, picking up scraps of Dizzy, her tears wetting the floor. I glanced down at her, ignoring pangs of guilt.

Bianca stared at me, smug, tongue working inside her cheek.

I pointed my finger like an old woman chasing children from the flowerbed. “You’re no witch. You’re not even a witcha’
be
! Crazy, that is what
you
are. Insane, like your mother, over in Sugar Creek Manor!”

Bianca’s smirk fell, her bottom lip catching between her teeth. Her wide eyes swept the lobby. Muscles quivered under the pallid skin of her throat. The shattered expression looked foreign on her porcelain features. I relished it.

“What’s going on?” Lenni looked as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. She pressed her paper-filled hands to her abdomen and gazed at Bianca from the floor. “What is she talking about? Did your mom come back from the mountains?” The corners of her mouth pulled down. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’d love to meet h—”

“Wake up, Lenni. Bianca’s mother is not a witch living in New Mexico.” I turned to Bianca. “Tell her how you’ve been lying to her all these years. Convincing her that you are some kind of stupid witch-in-training, when your mother is really in Hopeford.”

Bianca looked at Lenni for a split-second then through the large window. She blinked, her eyes lucid.

“Is that true?” Lenni asked, dropping the shredded poster as she rose to her feet.

“I said, pick that up!” The custodian’s abandoned broom clacked to the floor as he bustled toward us.

Bianca bounded to the door.

Lenni and I darted after her, fliers sailing to the floor as we rushed by the display tables.

“You’d better run!” the custodian yelled. “Disrespectful little witches.”

We followed Bianca through the doors, into the damp air. Lightning lit the sky then faded, erasing the glow of streetlights. I threw my gaze around the dark lot, searching for Pam’s car. Bianca seemed more antelope than witch, her silhouette disappearing then reappearing several spaces away with each passing headlight beam.

“Where’s she going?” I asked breathlessly as we ran.

“I don’t know!” Lenni cried, her voice sounding panicked.

The streetlights flickered, recovering from the flash of lightning.

“Bianca, watch out!” Lenni screamed. The squeal of brakes split my ears. My blood ran cold as I struggled to catch up.

Oh, God, no! God…please…

Bianca’s knees pressed against the bumper of the car, hands splayed on the hood. Lenni threw her arms around her, crying into her hair while Bianca stood like stone, trapped in the headlights’ beam.

I slowed my jog as the doors opened, releasing Pam’s shrieks and Mom’s sobs. They lunged at Bianca, pawing her hair, patting her cheeks, murmuring how lucky she was, and how sorry they were.

“Oh, this is all my fault!” Pam lamented. “The movie ran longer than we expected. We didn’t realize it until we left the theater. I tried to call all three of you, I even left messages.” Pam took Bianca’s face into her hands and gazed in her staring eyes. “Bianca, are you okay? Do you need to go to the ER?”

“I’m fine.” She straightened her Dizzy shirt and smoothed her wet hair. “I’d like to get out of the rain.”

“Alright, sweetie.” Pam let out a sigh. “She’s okay.” She led Bianca around the car and opened the door.

“Thank goodness,” Mom breathed, holding her face up to the rain.

“C’mon, Molly, let’s go home,” Lenni said. “I’m sorry about the phones. We turned them off before the show. Then me and Bianca forgot to turn ours on after we left the backstage party,” Lenni said as we slid into the backseat.

“Backstage?” Pam said.

“Insane, right? Mom, you wouldn’t believe it. We got to meet Dizzy and the whole band! They were so nice, like regular…” Lenni glanced at me and lowered her head. “It was alright, I guess.”

“Sounds like it was more than alright.” My mom turned around in her seat. “What’d you think, Molly?”

I didn’t answer. My gaze flickered to Bianca, head back, eyes closed, red hair coiled around her face and shoulders.

Out tumbled a mass of long red hair.
The little girl from my dream. I squeezed my eyes shut and reopened them, trying to clear her from my mind.

Mom cocked her head, waiting.

No need to spill my guts and make a horrible situation worse—if that was even possible. Between Bianca’s stealing my ticket and me spewing out her whole life story, the night was just a big disappointing blur I wanted to forget. “Really, Mom, as if backstage wouldn’t be cool?”

Lenni sucked in a sharp breath.

“
Cool
still means good, right?”

“Right, Mom.” I closed my eyes.

The heater blasted, nauseating me and making me sleepy at the same time. Heavy. Weighed down by wet clothing and a guilty conscience. I dreaded the miserable, hour-long drive home.

“Girls, we’re pulling into Redbend.” Mom roused us.

“Bianca, do you want to sleep over tonight?” Pam asked.

“No, thanks. Take me home, please.”

“Stay the night. We need to talk about everything,” Lenni said quietly.

“I’m going home.”

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Doubtful.”

I peeked over. Lenni gazed, misty-eyed, at Bianca, who stared straight ahead.

“Here you are, dear.” Pam stopped in front of Bianca’s crooked little house.

“Thanks.”

Lenni slid from the car, eyes filled with tears. Bianca brushed past without a word. Lenni scooted back into the seat, crying quietly.

Moonlight illuminated Bianca as she trudged over the cracked walkway. A week ago, she’d plucked my hair in the hall.

She seemed smaller now.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

My phone vibrated on the nightstand. I opened Lenni’s message and tossed my feet over the bed, rolling Boo to the floor.

Come over, quick!

I threw on whatever my fingers found first, tucked my phone in my pocket, and then jogged downstairs.

“Where you headed, Mol?” Dad asked, polishing his bowling ball while watching his favorite mechanic program on TV.

“I’ve got to run over to Lenni’s. She needs something. Where’s Mom?”

“She’s not feeling well this morning. Too much fun and excitement last night, I guess.”

Porch witch was less intimidating without her hat. The cool air chill-bumped my legs, tingling my toes as I jogged down the steps. My phone buzzed.

Hurry!

I quickened my pace.

Lenni stood on her porch, wringing her hands.

“Hey, what’s up?” I asked, jogging up the steps.

“Oh, Molly.” Her lip trembled. “It’s terrible!”

My heart froze. “What happened?” I gripped her shoulders, searching her watery eyes. “Where are your parents?”

“On their way to Brenda’s wedding.”

I led her to the porch swing and sat down beside her.

“Bianca’s furious with me.” She sobbed. “I called her this morning, to see if she wanted to come over and talk. She said she wouldn’t be talking to me ever again. She thinks you’ve turned me against her.”

“She’s not mad at you, she’s mad at me. She’s embarrassed because the truth came out about her past.” I rubbed a hand over Lenni’s hitching back. “It’ll be okay. This will all blow over.” I couldn’t believe I was consoling Lenni about Bianca.

“That’s not the worst part,” Lenni cried, wiping her nose on the underside of her shirt. “Come here, I’ll show you.” She rose from the swing and took my hand, guiding me through the house. She opened the French doors and pointed to the lush backyard. I followed her finger with my gaze. A large hole yawned in the grass beneath the oak tree. Tossed to the side was the sacred bloodberry bush, red dirt clinging to its exposed roots.

“When did she do this?”

“Must’ve been early. I walked to the patio while we were talking—I mean while she was shouting—on the phone, and that’s when I saw it.”

“The ground is still moist from the rain. We can replant it. Does your dad have a shovel?”

“No.”

“We’ll use one of my dad’s. I’ll run back home and grab one.” I squeezed her hand before turning to go.

“No. Dad has a shovel, but I won’t use it. I don’t want to replant the bush. The meaning is lost now, the memory’s ruined. It’ll never be the same.” She knelt beside the bush, touching the beautiful blooming flowers, the ugly knotted roots. She plucked a crimson berry from a branch and crushed it in her fingers, staining them red.

“Just give her some time, Lenni. Everything will be alright.”

“It’s over. The bloodberry bush is dead, just like the friendship between me and Bianca. I should’ve seen it from the beginning. You tried to warn me, but I wouldn’t listen.” Fresh tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.” She threw her arms around my neck and sobbed.

Finally, I’d gotten what I wanted. Lenni was seeing Bianca as the lying, scheming, manipulator she really was. Somehow, the fruit of reckoning wasn’t sweet like I’d imagined. It tasted bitter.