Accidentally Evil (2 page)

Two

M
y clothes are unpacked, my uniforms hung. Decorative pillows are on the bed and family pictures are on the dresser. The only thing missing is Ivy. I look at the watch on my wrist. She should already be here. I decide to check in with Miss A to see if she's heard from her. My nose is just inches from the door when it swings open and smacks me right in the face.

“Yoooooooowww!” I yell. I put my hand over my now bleeding nose.

“Hallie! Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!” Ivy comes through the door and guides me to the bathroom. She's half-­laughing as she grabs one of the hand towels from the cabi­net. “What were you doing there?”

I sit on the toilet and tilt my head back. “I was trying to leave.”

“Pinch your nose,” she says.

I do as she says as she stands over me, holding the towel over my face. “Been working out?” I ask.

She laughs, and the sound of her voice makes me forget the throbbing in my nose. I didn't realize how much I missed her.

“No,” she says. “You know me better than that.”

“Well, you sure swung that door open like a heavyweight champ.”

She removes the towel. “When did you become so fragile?”

“Very funny.” I sit up and look at myself in the mirror. But I can't focus on my nose with Ivy looking like that. “Your hair!”

She tosses the towel into the hamper and rubs soap onto her hands. “Like it?”

Last year Ivy's hair stayed in long braids. I once tricked her into leaving it down and was stunned by how full and curly it was. It's still the perfect shade of auburn, but the braids are gone. Soft curls frame her face and rest on her shoulders.

“Wow,” I say.

“Is that a good ‘wow' or a what-were-you-thinking ‘wow'?”

“Are you kidding me? Your hair is freaking awesome!”

She gives me an easy smile. “You're leaking again.”

I grab a tissue and hold it to my nose. When I compare my own reflection to Ivy's, I feel like I am behind. My straight brown hair has grown over the summer. But I still wear it pulled back in a headband. Simple. Easy. And suddenly childish.

“You okay?” she asks. “I'm sorry I hit you with the door. I didn't know you were standing on the other side.”

I follow Ivy out of the bathroom and into our bedroom. “I was leaving to look for you.”

“Lie down,” she says, pointing at my bed. “Keep pinching.”

I do as she says and watch her drag a duffel bag into the room.

“What took you so long?” I ask.

Ivy gives me a shrug. “Just running late.” There's a distance to her voice, but she doesn't give me time to ask what's wrong. “How long have you been here?”

“A couple of hours. You missed the flying trunks.”

“I saw all of that that I needed to see last year, even if I don't remember everything that happened.” She drops to the bed and lies back. “Jeez, it's good to be back.”

“I didn't think summer was ever going to end.” I pull the tissue from my nose. “There. It's stopped bleeding.”

“Good. Help me unpack.”

I'm kind of OCD—okay, a lot OCD—so I'm happy to take over. I make quick work of hanging her uniforms and organizing her dresser.

She pulls school supplies from her bag and freezes midturn when she gets a good look at her desk. “Whoa! Laptops?”

“I know. I didn't realize we were getting them either.”

“Very nice,” she says, then more quietly, “Have you seen them?”

Them.
She doesn't have to say the names of our enemies for me to know who she's asking about. Kendall and her partner in crime, the equally awful Zena Fallon.

I shake my head. “Just Dru. She and Jo are next door.”

“Yes!” She tosses the things in her hands onto the bed. “Let's go see them. I can finish later.”

It pains me to leave with her stuff all over the room, but I follow her anyway. The hallway is empty—at this
point most of the girls are getting unpacked before invocation. The first night at Dowling is a long one. Ivy knocks two times on Dru and Jo's door, and it opens almost immediately. What follows is a mix of screams, laughs, and hugs. As Seekers the four of us stuck together, and it made the year bearable. Fun, even, on some days. We had a common interest last year—bringing down Kendall and Zena. I suspect we'll have the same mission this year.

Kendall Scott has hated me since a third-grade sleepover turned bad. From that day on she made it her personal mission to make sure my life was miserable. As luck would have it, she is also a Dowling descendent, and we were forced to room together last year.

Zena Fallon was Ivy's roommate. She is also the daughter of Dowling's headmistress. Kendall and Zena quickly connected and brought out the evil in one another.

“Man, you two have been busy!” I say. Dru and Jo's room is decorated in bold colors—hot pink, lime green, and neon orange the same shade as Miss A's hair. I picture our mess of a room and shiver.

Ivy reads my mind. “Relax. We'll get our room done tonight.”

“Hallie! What happened to your nose?” Dru asks, just
now realizing it's twice its normal size and still growing.

My hand goes to my nose, and I wince in pain. “­Welcome-back gift from my roomie.”

Ivy eyes are apologetic. “I said I was sorry.”

I finally get a good look at Jo. Over the summer she went from pimples and do-nothing hair to model-­worthy glam. Blemish free, just-right makeup, and hair that looks like Rumpelstiltskin himself spun it from gold.

“Holy Saffra, Jo!” I say. “You look great!”

Her face flushes. “One of my cousins spent the summer with us to attend cosmetology school, and I became her project. And this is what happened.”

“Well, I guess she got herself an A!”

“She even took me to her school to show me off, like I was a new puppy or something.” She rolls her eyes like she was embarrassed, but I know how much that must have meant to her.

Dru leans in close, her voice a whisper. “Have you seen them?”

We all look at each other, shaking our heads.

“I don't blame Kendall for staying out of sight,” Ivy says, her voice deep with smugness. “Wonder if she's learned how to talk with her new tongue.”

We burst into uncontrollable laughter.

Last year, when I was still testing out my gift of transformation, I cast a spell for Kendall's true heart to be shown. I had thought the old Kendall—the sweet, funny Kendall I had known before third grade—was in there somewhere. When her true heart was shown, her tongue forked like a snake's. The last time I saw her, she was impossible to understand because her tongue kept slipping out and searching the air. It flicked just like a snake's. As a rule I'm terrified of snakes. But I can handle Kendall. I think.

“So, Hallie,” Jo says with a knowing smile. “Talked to Cody?”

My face flushes red-hot. “No.”

“You're the worst liar I've ever known. It's written all over your face.”

Ivy examines my face. “You're right, Jo. She gets that weird little tic in the corner of her eye.” She puts her finger on me, and I pull back. “See?” she asks. “Right there.”

“And her face gets all red and splotchy,” Jo adds.

I instinctively bring my hands to my face. “Excuse me, but I'm standing right here.”

Dru crosses her arms. “Then come clean. Did you talk to him?”

“We e-mailed,” I say.

“Well?” Ivy said. “About what?”

Family. School. Witchcraft. Everything.

I shrug. “Stuff.”

Dru gives me an
I'm not buying it
look. “How often did you hear from him?”

“I don't know. It's not like I kept count.”
219 times.

“And?” Ivy pushes.

I force conviction into my voice. No one needs to know I really like him. I've barely admitted it to myself. “And nothing. We're just friends.”

“We're supposed to have more events with Riley as Crafters,” Ivy says. “My sister let that slip.”

Ivy's sister graduated from Dowling but chose to live a regular “civilian” life. Now that I have them, I can't imagine leaving my gifts behind, letting them go dormant. But that's just me. I can see how being a witch might not be for everyone.

There's a knock at the door, and all four of us turn, waiting for the door to open. Miss A can enter without a key, and we aren't expecting anyone. But Miss A doesn't
breeze through an opened door, and there's another knock. Then another. Each one harder than the last.

Dru walks to the door. She opens it forcefully, like she's trying to scare someone, just like Ivy opened the door earlier.

Standing on the other side of the door are the two people we like least.

Kendall and Zena.

If possible, they're even prettier than they were last year.

Kendall speaks first, all Suzy Sunshine like we're BFFs. “Hi, girls!”

Looks like she mastered the whole forked-tongue thing just fine. I try to glimpse it in her mouth, but she's too fast.

“Looks like everyone made it back okay,” Zena says, eyes narrowing critically. I know she notices Jo's transformation, but she'd rather jump into a boiling cauldron than compliment her.

Kendall's eyes land on mine. Her lips lift slowly, and I brace myself. I know that look. She's a jungle cat ready to pounce on her prey.

“Oh my God, Hallie,” she says. Her voice is part
sneer, part “gotcha.” “What is wrong with your
nose
?”

“Shut up, Kendall,” Ivy says.

“Touchy,” Kendall says, entirely too happy for my liking.

“At least it's temporary,” I shoot back. “How's that new tongue working out for you?”

Zena jumps in before Kendall can answer. “Hope you girls can keep up this year. It will be our hardest, after all.”

I put my hands on my hips. “Maybe for some. Not for me. Not for us.”

They cross their arms simultaneously, like they've rehearsed it a million times in the mirror.

“Your lips are moving, but all I hear is ‘blah, blah, blah,'” Zena says.

Dru puts her hand on the door. “Ta-ta,” she says, as sweet as pie.

Then slams the door in their faces.

Three

T
he four of us walk into the Gathering Circle for invocation, less anxious than last year, but my nerves are still jumpy. It feels like my heart is in my throat. The GC is one of my favorite places at Dowling. There's a reverence to it I find comforting. Knowing that thousands of Dowling descendants have congregated in this room makes me feel connected in a way that just feels right.

The headmistress is at the door, greeting every girl by name. Even the new ones. She's exactly as I remember—black silk hair, thin body in perfect proportions, and eyes that see deep inside a person's soul.

She lays a hand on my shoulder in greeting. The alien greeting, I called it last year.

“Welcome back, Hallie,” she says. Her eyes linger on me so long, it gets awkward. I force myself to stand tall. No squirming.

“Thank you, Headmistress.”

I follow Ivy inside to the second row from the top. Last year, as Seekers, we sat in the top row. Each year, as we progress, we descend to the next row, then the next, until we are in the first row circling the triangular stage in the center of the room. I'm a long way from the first row, but I'm grateful I'm not at the top anymore.

I check out this year's Seekers as we walk to our seats. I give them encouraging smiles because I know how nervous they are. Nervous enough to puke. Their tight-lipped scared-speechless faces say it all.

The room hums in whispers and muffled laughs. It fills quickly and the candles dim. The dorm mothers sit on the stage, and I feel a twinge of sadness. I never would have survived last year without Miss A. She literally saved my life. How can I get through this year with anyone else? The other dorm mothers are all sharp angles and dark features. Then there's Miss A. A green crystal butter­fly clip pulls curly bangs away from her face. The gems sparkle and clash with her hair. But it's classic
Miss A. I'm surprised Dowling tolerates her eccentricity. They are all about conformity. Something tells me there's a story behind my favorite dorm mom. Maybe this is the year I'll find out what that story is.

Zena and Kendall enter the room at the last possible moment, and the doors close behind them with a thump. They sit on the end of the row and keep their eyes straight ahead. They say nothing. It's textbook Intimidation 101. But I know the truth about Kendall, and I know the truth about me. And all the glares and cold shoulders in the world can't change the fact that I'm more powerful than she will ever be.

My mind wanders as the headmistress takes the stage and introduces herself. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was the exact same speech she gave last year. Complete with sweeping arm motions and a booming, theatrical voice. Her makeup is dramatic, and she oozes authority. No one does scary witch better than Head­mistress Fallon.

As she raises her arms, her wooden wand in one hand, the candle flame in front of her stretches, stretches, stretches until it's nearly as tall as she is.

“So cool,” Ivy says under her breath.

And it is. Way cool.

The headmistress's voice is solemn but loud.

“Dowling sisters, your powers proclaim,

your right of lineage by Saffra's name.

A witch can give success in love,

curse or bless through Saffra above.

Speak to beasts and spirits alike,

command the weather, cast out a blight.

Read the heavens and stars of the night,

divine the future and give good advice.

Conjure treasure and bring fortune to bear,

heal the sick and kill despair.

This is your birthright to have and to share.

Blessings, my sisters;

may the spirits be fair.”

She lowers her hands, and the flame of the candle lowers with them. The smug look on her face says she hasn't grown tired of that little trick. A crowd-pleaser, my dad would call it.

The thought of my dad drives a blade of sadness through me. I love Dowling, but I miss my family when I'm gone.

The headmistress rambles on and on and on about how wonderful Dowling is and how this is going to be the best year in Dowling history.

She stops abruptly, then clears her throat. “Well . . . I guess I'm rambling a bit. I do get excited at the beginning of the year.”

My eyes shoot up, and I remember too late that the headmistress is clairaudient, which makes her one of the people who can hear my thoughts. I have to learn how to keep my thoughts hidden. I've tried—over and over—without success. It's only a million times harder than it sounds.

“Before we dismiss, I'd like to introduce our dorm mothers.”

The headmistress turns to the women behind her, and I swear I see her shake her head at the sight of Miss A. Lucky Seekers. It would almost be worth repeating my first year to have her again. Other than Miss A, I can hardly distinguish one dorm mother from the other, but I listen and watch anyway, waiting to see who we will get this year.

The headmistress is down to the last two dorm moms: Miss A and a toothpick of a woman next to her that I
­recognize from last year. “We've had a slight change in dorm mom assignments this year.”

That gets our attention. Dowling doesn't do change.

“At her insistence, Miss A will be moving upstairs to stay with this year's Crafters.”

I grab Ivy's hand and slap my other hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.

Miss A looks directly at me and winks.

Thank you.
I think the words as clearly and deliberately as possible. I hope Miss A heard me, but I can't tell from looking at her face.

“You're welcome.” The words are soft, but they aren't Miss A's. That's when I realize the headmistress said it. I have to stop projecting my thoughts. Emergencies only.

“Dorm mothers,” the headmistress says, more loudly this time, intended for everyone to hear, not just me. “Please escort your girls to the dining room.”

Zena and Kendall are the first to leave the room. They don't have the same affection for Miss A that Ivy and I do. Zena is old-school. She likes her witches threatening. Heartless.

Miss A has definitely got more of a Glenda-the-Good-Witch thing going.

We wait outside the CG for Miss A. When she comes through the doors, her smile is huge, her arms open wide. “How's that for a nice little surprise?”

She hugs Ivy and me.

“I have been so worried about this year's dorm mom.”

“I'm aware. Your worry was projected to me all summer long. I finally had to do something about it.”

My feet stop, but she keeps walking. How in the world did she hear me all the way from home? She looks at me over her shoulder. “Come on, Hallie. We have plenty of time to talk about it later. Let's eat. Smells like fried chicken.”

I take a few quick steps to catch up, and go inside the dining room. The Crafter table is the second table in the room. Last year we had assigned seating. We sat with our roommates, which means I sat right next to Kendall. It was a long year. This year I'm grateful I get to sit next to my friends and as far away from Kendall and Zena as possible. My eyes scan the table, and I see Kendall and Zena sitting close to the head table, where the head­mistress and dorm mothers eat. Suck-ups.

“Let's sit down here,” Ivy says. “Next to Dru and Jo.”

Ivy and I sit across from our friends. We pull our
chairs closer and water appears in our glasses as if it's being poured from an invisible pitcher.

Ivy points at her glass. “Okay. That's new.”

“And coolio,” Dru says, making us all laugh. Dru is the kind of girl who thinks everything is exciting. She may be small, but she speaks her mind and doesn't let anyone push her around. And sometimes she says the goofiest things. Like “coolio.”

Napkins slide from the table into our laps. I hear the Seekers behind us gasp. I remember how shocking magic was to us last year. To be honest, it still amazes me. I don't really understand how magic works; it just does. And when it does, it's . . . coolio.

Fried chicken is swiftly delivered to everyone except me. My plate always comes last, which doesn't make any sense to me. I know a salad is easier to make than fried chicken. Today I get a large salad with exactly what I love on top. Carrots, bean sprouts, mushrooms, and olives. My favorite.

Jo looks at my food. “Maybe I should turn vegetarian. You know how long I'm going to have to run to work this off?”

“Tell them you converted over the summer. You won't
regret it.” I stab my salad with a fork and sit back in my oversize, uncomfortable dining room chair. I chew slowly, taking in the view from my new seat. I can see Miss A if I lean back and twist my body to the left a little. Kendall and Zena are visible, but just barely.

I like this new arrangement quite a bit. I can stick close to the people I trust and block out the people I don't.

Perfection.