by K. L. Denman
The legs dangle for a moment and then an entire body drops to the ground. There is nothing else for me to do but scream. I close my eyes, throw back my head and howl.
chapter four
“Hey! Whoa! Wow, you’re really messed up, huh?”
The voice sounds human. It even sounds friendly. I crack open an eye, and there’s a girl standing over me.
“Should I call an ambulance?” she asks.
“An ambulance?” I croak.
“Yeah. You don’t look like you’re bleeding or broken or anything, but your face is all red and swollen. Do you have allergies? Did you eat something bad?” Her face is puckered with concern, but I recognize her.
I mutter, “You’re that new kid from next door.”
“Yup. I’m Stella.” She tilts her head to one side and smiles. The sunlight flashes off her braces and practically blinds me. She adds, “You’re Lizzie, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So, what’s wrong?” she asks.
I sit up and squint at her. “Have you been spying on me?”
“Uh, no. But I heard you crying and I climbed the tree by the fence to see what was wrong. You’re not physically injured though, are you?”
I heave a sigh and say, “You wouldn’t understand.”
She plops down on the lawn and says, “Try me.”
I look at her and think this is incredibly weird because she’s incredibly weird. She’s not the sort of person I’d normally ever talk to. I’ve seen her around a few times since she moved in next door, but one look at her was all I needed to know she wasn’t my type. I mean, the kid dresses like a Raggedy Ann doll. She’s so thin she looks like a collection of twigs. And her hair! It’s this wild mass of black curls that frizz around her head like an alien life-form.
But I start talking. I tell her everything that happened to me, and she listens. Really listens. When I’m done talking, I feel better but also a little worried. Is talking to someone like her yet another sign that life as I’ve known it is over?
“Sounds like that Rachel girl is really mean,” Stella says. “Why would she do something like that to you?”
“I don’t know,” I sniff. “But I’ll tell you this. She’s going to pay. I don’t know how yet, but I’ll get her back.”
Stella grins. I blink to avoid the flash off the metal, but it doesn’t happen this time. She looks at me sideways and says, “I know what you need.”
“You do?” I ask.
“Oh yeah.” She nods. In that gesture I find some hope. Her nod is so certain.
“So tell me,” I say.
“You need to work a little magick,” she says.
I stare at her. “Magick? You’re making fun of me?”
“No. I wouldn’t do that.” She shakes her head. “I’m totally serious. I know some magick. My baba has been teaching me.”
I roll my eyes. “Your baba? What’s that?”
“My grandmother,” Stella says. “She’s from the old country and she knows plenty.”
“You are serious, aren’t you?” I ask. “I mean, you actually believe in this stuff?”
“For sure I believe it. I’ve seen it work.” Stella frowns and bends her head to pluck at the grass. “Although, I’m not really supposed to tell just anyone about it.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” she says, “it’s sort of a family secret. Well, maybe not just for blood family, but for those who have respect. It’s not a game.”
Of all the things Stella might have said, this bit about secrets and respect sounds convincing. “So you’re saying that if I learn how to do this, I could get back at Rachel?”
Stella nods her head vigorously. “I know the perfect revenge spell.”
Perfect revenge. The words waft into my steamed brain like a cool breeze. Ahh. The dreary darkness of misery parts to make way for hope. I start to imagine things. A wart on Rachel’s nose—a giant fuzzy wart. And tufts of hair growing out of her ears. Oh, and what about armpits that pour smelly sweat? I’m just warming up when Stella cuts in.
“You’ll have to learn a few basics first. The revenge spell is tricky.”
“Tricky?” I ask. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” she says, “whatever you send out magickally, will come back on you threefold.”
“Say what?” I ask.
“It’s like this.” Stella hesitates, then begins to twirl a tuft of hair in her finger. No wonder it looks like an alien life-form. The twirling is intense. “When you work magick you’re working with the power of nature. It’s like shaping or bending the energy to your will. But before you draw power from the source, you need to align with it. Does this sound complicated?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Darn,” she says. “There’s a lot to explain. It’s hard to know where to start.”
I’m getting suspicious. I think Stella is just making this up. I mean, how hard can it be if she does it? “Why don’t you give me an example? Or better yet, a demonstration.”
She laughs. “You want to see me vanish or something?”
“No.” Although now that she’s mentioned it...“I just want you to keep it simple. Isn’t there some kindergarten magick you can show me?”
“Hmmm,” she says. “All right. How about this. I’ll teach you an easy spell, and when you’re ready, you can try it yourself.”
“Sounds good.”
“Okay, here goes.” Stella sits up straight and says, “Repeat after me. On the count of one, the spell’s begun.”
“On the count of one, the spell’s begun.” I get a teensy little tingle in my spine.
“On the count of two, let the magick ring true.”
I repeat that, and the hair on my arms stands up.
“On the count of three, the magick is me.”
As I repeat the last line, I feel a definite vibe. “Wow. Now what?”
“Well,” Stella says, “that’s a simple incantation. What you do is think of something you want to have happen. You get the idea firmly in your head. Maybe you light a candle. Then you say the words and picture the thing you want to happen.”
“That’s it?” I ask. “And then it happens?”
“Maybe not right away,” she says. “Magick works in its own time. You have to be patient.”
I’m about to tell her that sucks when I hear my mom’s car pull up to the house. “Oh no,” I moan.
“What?” Stella asks.
“I think the principal was going to call my mom at work. I’m in for it now.”
Stella shakes her head. “Won’t your mother believe you when you explain?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Guess I’ll find out.”
“I better go,” Stella says. “But there are some important things about the magick I haven’t finished explaining. Maybe I’ll talk to you later?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Later.”
chapter five
To complete the Worst Day of My Life, I get the Worst Evening of My Life. My parents don’t believe that Rachel would play such a dirty trick on me. They know Rachel’s parents. Mom says, “They’re lovely people. Simply lovely. And Rachel is always so polite. I don’t know why you two can’t be friends.”
Dad says, “I’m very disappointed in you, Elizabeth.”
I say, “My life is over. I wish I were dead.”
That gets them to back off a little. Mom pats my shoulder and says, “There, there. You don’t mean that. You know, there’s probably a simple explanation. Maybe Rachel picked up the test key by mistake. Then she got it mixed up with her note to you.”
This is far-fetched and we all know it, but we decide that must have been what happened. Everything was one big accident. We also decide the principal and Mr. Sparks are unlikely to believe this.
Dad says, “You’re going to have to write that note of apology, Lizzie.”
“I don’t want a week of detention.” I fold my arms across my chest. “No way. I’d rather be suspended. I don�
��t want to go back to that school, ever!”
Dad folds his arms across his chest. “Young lady, you are going to write that note and you are going to attend school. You may even consider doing extra science work while in detention. You need to make up the lost marks.”
“But I didn’t do anything! This is so NOT fair!”
“Where did you get the idea that life is fair?” he asks.
“I don’t know.” I glare at him. “Maybe from you?”
“Well,” he says, “I must apologize for that. Life isn’t fair. Never has been, never will be. End of story. Go write the note.”
He has that look on his face that says the discussion is over. He hardly ever has that look, but when he does, he means it.
This is the note I write:
Dear Mr. Sparks,
I apologize for having your exam key in my hands. I promise that what happened in class today will never happen to me again. I intend to make sure of that.
Sincerely,
Lizzie Lane
I show the note to Mom and she sighs. “I suppose it will have to do.”
The next thing I do is call Haley. She won’t even come to the phone. Her little brother says, “Haley’s busy right now. She’s, uh, taking a crap.”
I hear Haley shrieking in the background as he hangs up, and I know she told him to say that. Not the part about the crap, just that she was busy. I quite like her little brother sometimes.
The only thing left for me to do is plot my revenge against Rachel. I think about the magick, and it all seems lame. What was I doing talking to Stella? Worse yet, I was slightly sucked in by her. I must have been so overcome with the tragic state of my life that I wasn’t in my right mind. The only problem is that I can’t get that spell out of my head. It keeps repeating in there, and it starts to creep me out. Maybe it does have some power.
There’s only one way to find out. I’ll do an experiment. That’s scientific, isn’t it? I’m making up lost marks already. I wish. All right, what was it Stella said? She said I need to focus. And light a candle. And picture something I want. I think that was it. So I light a candle and try to figure out what I want.
I think about hosting my own fashion TV talk show, but that’s sort of off base. Sure, I want that, but it’ll have to wait. Right now, I want something bad to happen to Rachel. Like, for starters, she wakes up tomorrow with a giant zit in the middle of her forehead.
Actually, that’s perfect! Zits are normal for kids our age. And Stella said something about working with nature. What could be more natural than a zit? Oh yeah, I can totally see it. I sit cross-legged on the floor in front of the candle because it feels right. It’s like setting the stage. I close my eyes and picture Rachel’s face. Eeeuw, that face. And then I imagine the zit. It’s enormous. It’s right there between her eyes. Man, it is ugly. Last of all, I say the words:
On the count of one, the spell’s begun.
On the count of two, let the magick
ring true.
On the count of three, the magick is me.
I get a shiver all down my spine, but I keep holding the image of Rachel’s zit for as long as I can. And then I blow out the candle. It’s done!
I take a deep breath and look around my room. It looks the same as always. Clothes everywhere, makeup and perfume and stuffies jumbled together on the dresser. Posters on the wall. It’s funny because I feel like I just did some actual magick, but there’s no proof anywhere. Nothing’s changed. Hmph.
Then I think about going to school tomorrow and I start to sniffle. I just know it’ll be awful. There was this girl in our group in grade six, and she started acting all superior because she was developing so fast. It was like she thought her bra size made her special. Anyway, we all just sort of froze her out. It took a while for her to get it. It was pathetic the way she kept hanging around and calling us.
Finally, she did get it. She left us alone, but then she got so desperate she let me in on her secret, and we still shut her out. I mean, I didn’t tell the others about her uneven boobs, so it wasn’t like it made a difference to them. I did the best I could, keeping Rachel’s secret for so long. And look how she repaid me. Trying to take Kyle away. She deserved what she got.
But I’m wondering now. Could the freeze-out happen to me? It couldn’t, could it? No. My friends would never do that to me. By tomorrow, they’ll be fine. I should wear something nice tomorrow. Oh! My white pants with the blue blouse. Haley always says the blue brings out my eyes. Where is that top?
I rummage through the clothes on the floor and find it. It’s dirty. Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be? Dirty fits right in with the rest of my day. I check my dresser, and the drawers are practically empty. I go downstairs and tell Mom I need some new clothes.
“Lizzie, you don’t need any more clothes.” Mom rolls her eyes. “You simply need to remember to do your laundry.”
I knew she’d say that. I don’t know why I thought it might be different this time. “Well, can I go on the computer for a while?”
“Have you done your homework?”
“I wrote the note,” I say.
“Lizzie.” Mom gives me a look.
“I don’t have anything else.” I don’t tell her that even if I did, it would still be in my locker at school.
She says okay, fine, I can use the computer.
I log in to Facebook and my worst fears are confirmed. None of my friends have sent me a single message. Not one. At least they haven’t disappeared from my friends list—yet. But wait, there’s a message from someone asking to be added as a friend! That someone is Stella Flowers.
I’m torn. If I add her, I can ask her about the magick. But if she shows up on my list, what will my real friends think?
Real friends? I log out, go to my room, gather my stuffies around me on the bed and cry.
chapter six
Frail hope gets me to school in the morning, hope that my friends will act like everything’s fine and hope that Rachel will have a gigantic zit.
My friends aren’t gathered under the covered area. Hope number one shattered. Where could they be? We’ve gathered there every morning since September. Since it’s now May, I’d say the change in location was planned. I think maybe I’m going to cry again but no! I refuse to give them the satisfaction. What a fickle bunch of pukes. How dare they?
Just wait until one of them needs to know the latest on hair conditioners. Or where to find their next purse. Or which band is the coolest new thing. I keep on top of that stuff. It’s almost spooky how tuned in I am. It’s as if I get messages from space. None of them comes close to me on knowing what trend is hot and what’s not. They’ll come crawling.
I hold my head high and stroll into the school. Home room happens with the blah, blah, blah announcements. It’s all normal. I’m good. I check my nails and they’re perfect. Next stop, English. Haley’s in that class, but I just breeze in and take my seat. I don’t even look at Haley. I open my books and listen to the teacher. I have no idea what the teacher says, but I listen. Really, I just appear to be listening, but that’s good enough.
It’s all about appearances.
I can feel Haley looking at me sometimes, actually feel it, but I don’t turn toward her. Not once. They think they can freeze me out? Ha. I’m the queen of freeze.
When lunch hour comes, I don’t go to the covered area. I go hunting for Rachel. I don’t make the hunt obvious. I walk briskly, like I have some place important to be. I wave and smile at those people I see who aren’t in the group but are still okay. Like Mandy, my lab partner.
They wave back. I’m good. I can do this. And then I see someone coming toward me. This person is wearing a lime green hat, the type only grannies wear. What’s a granny doing in school? Worse, why is she coming straight at me? And then the granny grins and exposes a mouthful of metal. It’s Stella. When she gets closer, she starts to squint. Her face scrunches up, and I think, what? She’s going to sneeze on me?
Sh
e gets right up in my face and stares.
I back up a step and say, “Uh, what are you doing?”
“Just checking,” she says.
“For what?” I ask.
“That girl, Rachel. I don’t know her, but I just saw some girls in the washroom all huddled around this one called Rachel. There was some sort of crisis. And then I got a glimpse of Rachel, and she has this huge zit on her forehead. The other girls were trying to help her cover it up with makeup. And then I got a little worried about you.”
My grin is probably ten times bigger than the one Stella had. “Are you kidding me?” I squeal.
“Oh no!” Stella says.
“What?”
She frowns and gets in my face again. “You didn’t, did you?”
I back away and say, “Would you stop that? And what didn’t I do?”
“You didn’t cast a spell to give her a zit, did you?” Stella asks.
“So what if I did?” I shake my head. “I really didn’t think it would work. But it must have! Do you have any idea how amazing this is? Which bathroom were they in? I’ve got to see this.”
Stella takes a deep breath and says, “I think there’s something else you’ve got to see.”
“Oh no,” I say. “Nothing will beat the zit. It’s prime.” And then I notice a faint pulsing in my forehead. What is that? I put my hand over it and rub, and the skin hurts. “Ow! What the heck?”
“Hurry,” Stella whispers. “We’ve got to go for cover.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
Stella grabs hold of my arm and tugs. “Come on, Lizzie.” She glances at my forehead and her eyes widen. “Let’s go!” And then she pulls me down the hall, practically galloping in her big brown shoes.
“Jeez,” I complain. “Slow down. Where’s the fire?” But as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know where the fire is. It’s on my forehead. And it’s getting hotter every second.
We burst into the first bathroom we find. A couple of girls are combing their hair at the mirror, and Stella yells, “Clear out! She’s going to be sick!”
The girls grab their purses and run. They don’t look back.