Kelly McClymer-Salem Witch 01 The Salem Witch Tryouts (2 page)

“Put it back.” I looked at Mom. “It’s the house’s character. You’ve said so a million times.”

“It’s only a thing, sweetheart. Remember, things are not important, people are. And the new people will make their own memories and create their own character for this house.”

“It’s not fair!” I whined. Harps sounded, mocking my words.
It’s not fair
. I tried to shoot the thoughts through my blazing eyes. I think it worked, because my parents looked taken aback. And harp music didn’t play.

“That’s enough out of you, young lady,” my dad said. The move had gotten on his nerves too. “Get out to the car right now.”

I thought about making a grand gesture—running off to my room, slamming my door, refusing to go. But the room was empty. All my stuff was gone to the new house. Grand gestures shouldn’t be wasted. We only get so many in one lifetime (or so says Grandmama, Queen of High Drama).

“Time to go.” Mom was grimly cheerful. She was usually the optimist to his pessimist. But I think leaving was hard
for her. This was her first home with my dad. Where she’d raised us. She was going back home, sort of. But I don’t think she liked it. Not that she was going to do less than she thought was right for her children.

Too bad she didn’t believe in witch boot camp. Dorklock was the perfect candidate. He was already out in the SUV, just waiting to go. He didn’t even mind leaving everything behind. He’d like boot camp. It was the perfect solution. Apparently, in her eyes, perfect mothers didn’t send their imperfect children away. Too bad she couldn’t see the situation through my eyes.

Then again, maybe she did, a little. She put her arm around me and led me out. As we passed the door, she touched the spot where the notches had been and they reappeared. “Even a new family can enjoy a little lingering character.”

“Just a minute.” I stood there looking at the naked rooms that weren’t anything like home anymore. I touched the top notch, and my name,
PRUDENCE
, appeared in the wood. Not to leave the Dorklock out, although he probably deserved it, I touched his top line and his name,
TOBIAS
, appeared. His top line was only a little under mine, despite the fact that he’s four years younger. Soon he would be taller. Would there be a door frame to notch in the new house? And did it matter, when it wasn’t home and never would be?

For a moment, I considered locking the front door to the house and refusing to leave. But, seriously, I’m in it to win it, just like a good cheerleader should be. What was there to win in refusing to go? An empty house that wasn’t ours anymore? All my things were far away, in Salem.

Still, it was hard not to revert to the Terrible Twos. And I guess it showed, because when Dad came back he gave Mom that “Is she sane?” look they like to use when they think I’m being unreasonable. “Ready, princess?”

Princess? More like medieval serf. It’s a wonder I’m a leader at school, considering how they treat me like a baby. I tried not to cry. Crying makes my voice shake. And voice-shaking is not leadership-quality behavior. I may have been forced to leave my cheerleading squad behind, but I would go with head high and a big fake smile in place. If only—

“We’re going to come back,” I began. “Why can’t we just leave the house …”

“I’m not made of money, princess. We’ll make a nice profit on the house. That’s how we can afford the pool in the new place.”

Pool. Big deal. Although, I suppose it could come in handy in establishing kewl status in Salem.

I walked out the door, fighting tears, to see a dozen girls in cheerleading uniforms on the lawn Tobias had just mowed for the last time this morning. The whole A squad.

All sixteen of them, including Chezzie, who hates me, and Maddie, my best friend. In full gear.

All I could think for a second was that I needed to grab my uniform and fall in line. But I’d turned my uniform in to Coach. In the heartbeat it took for the gut-punch to hit me that I was no longer a part of the squad, that it was complete without me, they geared up and began a cheer.

“Gimme a B!”

“Gimme a Y!”

“Gimme an E!”

“Noooooooooooooooooooo.”

“We love Pru so so much.”

“We can’t let her goooooo.”

“So come back soon and we’ll cheer.”

“For Pru, our leader dear.”

I didn’t want to cry, because Chezzie was watching and she’d tell everyone, including Brent, my crush du jour. I’d been planning to wage a campaign to get him to take me to the junior prom this year. It was bad enough that I had to leave without knowing if the definite buzz between Brent and me would turn into a nice hot relationship. I didn’t need Chezzie talking to him and making sure he wouldn’t talk to me if I
did
manage to talk Mom and Dad into coming back. I could just imagine, “She was so jealous of how good we looked without her, she was screaming
with rage.” Chezzie puts the yotch in beeyotch.

Not that Chezzie would be wrong. I
was
jealous of them. Jealous that their worlds weren’t being ripped into confetti. Jealous that they weren’t going to have to piece all the confetti together again in another place and put on a smile while doing it.

So by the time the cheer ended, I’d managed to stop the waterworks. My cheeks were wet and I know my mascara was probably running, but at least I wasn’t squirting tears like an insane teenage water fountain. I wish I’d thought to put on waterproof mascara, but I hadn’t been planning to swim—or cry my eyes out either.

The squad stood for a moment in ready position, like we’d all been taught: take the bow, accept the appreciation, be proud. I had about a nanosecond to respond, and the wrong response could mean I’d be lower than a scud if I was lucky enough to convince my parents to come back home where we belonged. Reputation is precious, and I didn’t want to lose mine in the last sixty seconds I lived in Beverly Hills.

“You guys!” I ran to hug them before they could move toward me. “I’m going to miss you!” I really was going to miss everyone but Chezzie, the snake with fake double-D’s, but there was no point saying so out loud. Truth is, a good head cheerleader knows her team, and I knew mine, good and bad.

Maddie ran to meet me and we hugged. There were tears in her eyes and her embrace was no weak-armed “let me see whether you have silicone or saline” hug. She grabbed me like she wasn’t going to let me go. Now I had an excuse for my drippy mascara. She whispered, “Run away and I’ll sneak you into my closet. No one will know.”

“My mom knows everything.” It’s a standing joke with my friends and enemies alike that my mother knows what I do before I do it. They don’t know the half of it. Mom has those CIA tracking devices in the movies beat—she’s set so many protective spells over me, it’s amazing I can walk or talk half the time.

“I’ll distract her. You run. ’Cause I don’t think I can face junior year without you.” That’s Maddie, trying to cheer me up by letting me know how miserable she is. “You’ll be fine. Look at what a great cheer you just gave.” Besides, she wasn’t changing schools and didn’t have to snarf up kewl status from squat. But there was no point sour-graping her. It wasn’t her fault I was moving. And she
had
offered me her closet.

“But you’ve been working on the cheer routine all summer. All we did was tweak it to fit today.”

Trust Maddie to think that would make me feel better. I’d given her the notebook with all my routines and the music. Not that Maddie would ever be captain of the squad. She’s a mouse when it comes to leadership. She’s a great right
hand, and I wish I could pack her in my suitcase, but I only gave her the notebook because I couldn’t bear to give it to Chezzie.

I hugged her tight. “I’m going to miss you most of all. Don’t forget to text me everything that’s happening.”

“You too.” She glanced at my dad, who was making shooing motions toward the car. “Maybe you can come back soon.”

“Maybe.” I didn’t try to sound hopeful. I wasn’t.

“The team thought you should have this.” Chezzie walked up to us and thrust a package with a big bow on it at me. “Salem—isn’t that where the witches were? That should make you feel at home.”

Chezzie and I used to be best friends. Until I told her I was a witch and she pulled out her cross and holy water and started to exorcise me. Picture me and Chezzie, about eight. She has a pink plastic bottle of holy water and a matching lavendar cross. I have a horrified expression.

Even though Mom wiped her memory, mine is still intact. Chezzie is prejudiced, and I’m just not up with that. Not that she remembers I’m a real witch, of course. But something stuck, because if she’s not calling me a bitch, she’s calling me a witch. It’ll be interesting to see what witches call one another when they’re PMSing. Mortals? I don’t think so.

Chezzie was smiling and acting like she was joking, but I knew better. I unwrapped the package to find a shiny new Splitflex. Perfect for the girl without a cheerleading squad. Still, I hugged her and laughed. “Good luck to all of you—and be good to your new captain, whoever she is.”

That dimmed Chezzie’s bleached-bright grin. But only for a second. “Oh, I’ll make sure they are. And don’t worry, I’ll be a good captain, maybe even better than you would have been.”

“Ouch,” interjected Sarah, a strong girl who could hold and throw like a guy and had about as much sensitivity to girl-speak. “Is that your way of saying, ‘Don’t let the door hit you in the butt on your way out’?”

Maddie frowned at her. But after I had torn up my uniform and had to zap it back together to hand in to Coach, I had accepted that fate had spoken. I wasn’t going to be the youngest head cheerleader of the Beverly Hills High School squad. It was a size-zero comfort that Chezzie was a senior, so she wouldn’t be taking everything from me—just the work, the fun, and the glory. “Chezzie, I wish you all the votes you deserve, girl. And I look forward to seeing you in the finals.”

She looked surprised. They all did. “You mean you’d be a cheerleader on another school’s squad?”

Truth time? The thought hadn’t even occurred to me
until it came out to pop Chezzie’s gloat balloon. Finals? Against BHHS? “Duh? Why not? If I have to go to Salem, why not teach them to act Beverly Hills? Besides”—I held up the Splitflex—“I have this to keep my splits in perfect form. It would be a shame to waste it.”

From the looks on their faces, you’d think I’d said I was going to go on
Oprah
and tell all their secrets on national TV. As if anyone really wanted to know.

“Thanks for giving us such a great send-off, girls,” my dad said, tapping his watch. “But we have a schedule to keep.”

“Right.” I climbed into the SUV and strapped in. I waved until I was out of sight, trying not to think about how I would face a new school without Maddie to help me pick out my clothes and pluck the stray eyebrows I sometimes forgot. And … never mind. It doesn’t matter. I’m going to Salem. And maybe I would meet them at the tournament. But I wish I hadn’t said so. Because my comment had changed something. I could see it in the way Chezzie’s top front teeth had peeked out of her smile like they did when she thought she had juicy news to tell.

And I could feel it inside me. Would I be a traitor if I cheered against them? It wasn’t my fault I had to go to a new school. And I intended to be kewl, no matter what it took—even if it did come down to beating Beverly Hills in the cheerleading finals.

“First stop, Grand Canyon!” Dad announced. Oh, goody. I put in my earphones and turned up the music, the oh-so-appropriate “Boulevard of Broken Dreams,” by Green Day. Prepare for a bumpy ride, I thought. Life is so not fair.

ME: Salem sux News at 11

MADDIE: U dont luv the pool?

ME: Even an indoor pool doesnt make up 4 this crapitude

MADDIE: U need 2 make frenz

ME: Hah! Ppl here dress like Macys on parade

MADDIE: LOL! Cant be that bad

ME: Is Except for punks in black with piercings and hair any color but natures own

MADDIE: Noway Met any witches yet?

ME: Kidding? Not leavin my room

MADDIE: Sounds booooring!

ME: Dont wanna make the rents happy by tryin 2 fit in

MADDIE: True But if U met a witch U could steal a broomstick and fly home

ME: Sounds like a plan

MADDIE: Kewl Ill hide U in my closet if Ull eat my sushi 4 me

Maddie’s responses to my useless whining made me smile. Pretty much the only thing that had since I’d left Beverly Hills. Sure, the girl really hated sushi. But she also knew how much I loved it.

Not that I’d seen a sushi place when we drove down the narrow streets of our new home. After the two-week road trip, I’d pretty much taken to tuning out courtesy of my iPod. With my eyes closed, I could pretend I was anywhere but in the back of an SUV, wondering why the very short texts I got from everyone but Maddie claimed they were “too busy.” Which meant they had moved on and I should too.

Maddie’s texts were all I had left from my life in Beverly Hills. Well, and Mom, Dad, and the Dorklock, of course. But after too much close-quarter fun traveling across the country, I was ready to pretend I didn’t know any of them.