That Witch! Page 4

  “Sweeney Todd. The Tim Burton version.”

  “Awesome,” Brynn said as she plopped down on the purple beanbag on the floor. “Are you still spending the night?”

  “I guess,” Laura muttered.

  Clearly something was bothering her, but Laura had always been the type who wouldn’t volunteer to talk about things unless someone else did the prying. Honestly, though, Brynn wasn’t in the mood to pry. She had her own issues right now, issues she wouldn’t share with anyone, and holding Laura’s hand while she sulked wasn’t a top priority.

  The movie started to play as Brynn dumped half the popcorn into a bowl for Laura. Neither one of them said a word, even though they always talked through the movies they’d seen a hundred times or more. They’d seen Sweeney Todd a hundred and two times easy, even knew most of the words by heart. Yet Laura focused so hard on the television, she acted like she’d never seen the movie before.

  “Okay, what’s wrong with you?” Brynn asked, sitting forward on the beanbag.

  “Why do you have Cassidy Rivers’s number scribbled on your wrist?” Laura blurted as if the question had been playing on infinite loop in her brain. She didn’t look at Brynn when she asked. Instead, she kept her wide eyes glued to the TV screen.

  “We’re working on a project together, remember?”

  “Yeah,” Laura muttered, but Brynn could tell she wasn’t buying it.

  “What? It’s the truth. You were there when Mrs. Miller paired us together.”

  “Yeah, I was. But I also saw how mortified you both were when she said it. Cassidy clearly wasn’t into the idea of doing anything with you.”

  “Maybe not, but we both have to make a good grade on this. Despite how Cassidy acts, she’s always been a good student.”

  Laura’s thick black brows arched as she swung her head in Brynn’s direction. Her nostrils flared, and her lips curled. She stared at Brynn like she’d sprouted a third eye in the middle of her forehead.

  “You’re complimenting her now?” Laura all but yelped. The disbelief in her voice was almost as piercing as her glare.

  “I wouldn’t call that a compliment. It’s just the truth.”

  “Are you gonna start taking up for her too?”

  “No.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Laura rolled her eyes, then turned her jet-black gaze back to the TV.

  Sighing, Brynn settled back into her beanbag and tossed bits of popcorn into her mouth. She was glad the conversation was over but had the distinct feeling it hadn’t ended. The topic of Cassidy Rivers and the pink phone number on Brynn’s wrist would come up again. She could feel it almost as much as she could still feel the warmth of Cassidy’s palm against the skin of her arm.

  Chapter 7

  WHEN Brynn woke up the next morning, her cheek was stuck to the vinyl surface of her giant purple beanbag. Her knees were curled into her chest, and a half-eaten bag of popcorn had spilled out on the gray carpet lining her bedroom. Laura nestled in Brynn’s bed, sleeping like a baby. The menu to the last movie they’d watched filled the TV screen, music playing in a loop.

  She looked down at her wrist, and thankfully, Cassidy’s number was still there, though a little blurred. Brynn could barely make out the numbers, but she knew the moment the hot water of her morning shower hit her skin, the pink ink would completely vanish. Brynn couldn’t have that. No way could she lose that number.

  The room was still pretty dark, save for the flickering images from the TV and the hints of light peeking in from beneath the dark purple curtains hanging over the only window in Brynn’s bedroom. She extracted herself from the beanbag, clumsily pushed up to her feet, and stumbled over to her desk, trying not to make too much noise so she wouldn’t wake Laura.

  Quietly, she clicked on the small lamp bent over her laptop. It didn’t put off too much brightness, only enough to light the keys of her computer. It worked fine. She only needed to see enough to jot down Cassidy’s phone number before the digits wore away.

  Half awake, she blindly searched her desk for something to write with, fingers fumbling with the chaos of everything her mother had asked her more than once to straighten up. She had the coolest Gothic Tinker Bell stationery set her little sister had bought her for Christmas a few years back, and Brynn hadn’t used it too often. The paper was just too pretty to waste on stupid scribblings.

  Cassidy’s phone number wasn’t just some stupid scribbling, though.

  She rolled her wrist over and jotted the digits down across one of Tinker Bell’s wings, leaving off the name so nosy somebodies wouldn’t know who the number belonged to. That little slip of paper was comparable to the most valuable treasure under the stars for some silly reason. It was her golden ticket to the chocolate factory. Even if hanging out with Cassidy Rivers didn’t automatically make her one of the cool kids, at least she would get a little taste of life in the cheerleader’s world.

  After pinning the page to her black and purple memory board, Brynn grabbed a change of clothes from her closet and headed down the hallway to the bathroom. She’d picked out something cute to wear, something that would make her look less “homicidal” and more… normal, she guessed. It was an adorable dress and vest combo—white blouse, black skirt, black tie and vest. She even had the knee-high white socks and black patent Mary Janes to finish the look off.

  Now, why she put so much importance into looking cute for Cassidy, she really didn’t know. A mere twenty-four hours ago she wouldn’t have cared. But apparently, twenty-four hours was enough time to make a whole lot of changes. In the span of one short day, Cassidy went from traumatizing and mortifying to almost sincere, and Brynn went from careful avoidance to absolutely dying to be closer to the queen of the school. And none of it made any sense.

  Brynn climbed into the shower, stood beneath the hot jets of water, and let it rain down over her tightened muscles. Sleeping on the beanbag had knotted her neck, and only when the muscles finally started to loosen did she realize how painful it felt. She turned around and let the water pound against her knotted shoulders as she reached for her jasmine-scented bodywash.

  Would Cassidy like that scent?

  Would she consider it normal?

  The thought made Brynn’s eyes widen, made her stop brushing her purple, spongy pouf over her body. Her fingers tightened around the netted ball as she stared at the creme-colored shower tiles. If Brynn didn’t get her head on straight, there was no way she would be able to face Cassidy today without making a complete fool of herself.

  A knock at the door pulled her away from her silent mental breakdown. “I’m in the shower,” she called out over the splattering of hot water pounding down around her.

  “I’m going home,” Laura called back. “Have fun with the queen bee today. Call me when you get back?”

  “I will.” Or maybe she wouldn’t. It all depended on what happened when Brynn and Cassidy got behind closed doors together, and how badly Brynn reacted to their private time.

  She lathered her shampoo and ran it through her chin-length, cotton-candy-colored hair, massaged it into her scalp, then let the water wash the suds away. The headache that had been developing since she rolled off the beanbag started to subside, and suddenly, everything seemed to clear. Cassidy wasn’t her friend and never would be. Cassidy wasn’t the ticket to her popularity, because Cassidy would never be seen in public with her. This had nothing to do with social status and everything to do with making a good grade on an English project. And that little epiphany would make working with Cassidy so much easier, or at least, Brynn hoped it would.

  After drying off and spraying on so much body spray she could barely breathe before dressing, Brynn dried and styled her hair, then put on a little makeup. Nothing over the top, just enough to put a lock on the whole cute factor Brynn was aiming for. A dusting of pink over the eyes. Pink on the lips. A soft pink on the cheeks. Good grief, she looked like a big pink cotton ball.

  Shoulders rou
nding, she let out a sigh. Brynn really needed Laura there to tell her she looked fine, but she wouldn’t have dared to let Laura see her getting all dolled up for a study session with Cassidy Rivers. No doubt, that would be the nail in the proverbial coffin of their dying friendship. Yes. Dying. Laura never bailed first thing on a Saturday morning. They always… always had breakfast together, then usually went to the mall or the movies or the local skatepark or something. But not this morning.

  Guess Laura didn’t want to hang around for the “I’ll catch up with you later because I would rather hang out with our biggest enemy” speech.

  Brynn tore out of the bathroom and started down the hallway, not watching where she was going. She would’ve collided with her mother had Mommy Dearest not reached out to grab Brynn’s arms before the two of them fell like bowling pins after a perfect strike.

  “Where are you going in such a hurry?” her mother asked.

  “I, um… I… class project with Cassidy Rivers.”

  “Cassidy Rivers?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “All dressed up like that?” Her mother settled her hands on her hips and gave Brynn one straight-through-the-soul stare down. It was her third-degree interrogation stance, the way she looked every time she wanted to break Brynn down.

  “Well, we, um… might go to the mall or something.”

  “Brynn Michaels.”

  “What, Mom?” Brynn crossed her arms over her chest.

  “What’s really going on?”

  “That’s the truth.”

  “Then I’m sure you won’t mind me calling Mrs. Rivers.”

  “Mom!”

  “Brynn.”

  “Please don’t embarrass me.”

  Awkward silence filled the narrow hallway, turning the air almost smothering. Brynn had the urge to fidget as her mother kept her weighty stare focused on Brynn, but she didn’t move. No need to make her mother more suspicious.

  “Fine,” her mom finally said. “But I expect you to be home by seven for dinner.”

  “What if we get started on the project?”

  “Then I expect a call from you, and you’d better be at Cassidy’s house when you call.”

  “Fine,” Brynn said in a huff. “When have I ever lied about where I’m going?”

  “Never, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  Brynn turned her head and rolled her eyes as her mom walked past her and continued down the hallway. She understood her mother’s suspicion, she really did. But Brynn really was as honest as the day was long. She’d never lied to her mom, not over anything important. Brynn also never hung out with the likes of Cassidy Rivers and her clique of vapid, popular, spoiled little rich kids. It made sense for her mom to question their relationship now.

  Relationship. There was that word again.

  Chapter 8

  “I’M WALKING over so I should be there in a bit.” That was the last thing Cassidy heard Brynn say before hanging up the phone. The moment she tossed her iPhone onto her bed after ending the call, she went into frantic crazy mode.

  Her room was perfectly clean as it always was, everything neat and in its place. But she wanted to hide all the superficial crap she was usually so proud of—like all her cheer trophies and the beauty pageant awards adorning her walls, dating back to when she was a little over two years old. Suddenly, everything in her room seemed like a lie. One big lie that Brynn would see right past. Or worse, she would buy into it all like everyone else did and wouldn’t care to see the person beneath all the sparkling tiaras and golden pom-pom trophies.

  Cassidy knew Brynn lived in the same neighborhood, but from their conversation, she’d learned Brynn’s house was just around the corner and down the block. If she was walking, then that didn’t give Cassidy much time to redesign her entire bedroom, so she put priority in the way she looked. Earlier, she had opted for a baby-blue Hollister T-shirt and some jean shorts. Now the brand name embroidered in big, white letters across her chest bothered her. Jeez, she looked like a billboard.

  Bolting over to her large, walk-in closet, she quickly tossed the doors open and flicked the light on, gaze darting over to the racks and racks of tops all neatly organized by designer or brand, and in order by color. She shed the Hollister shirt then threw it across the closet and into her hamper. It wasn’t dirty, but she didn’t have the time to hang it back up on its corresponding hanger. A quick glance at her watch told her that her time was rapidly running out, and she huffed out a frustrated breath. Everything had a label. Everything was designer. Everything had a brand name.

  Ugh! In all her years, she never would have thought finding something to dress down in would be so difficult. But she wanted to do this for Brynn. Basing her thoughts on the possibility the girl might be uncomfortable with brand names or designer clothing, she wanted to make her feel as comfortable as possible.

  Finally, she found a white Victoria’s Secret T-shirt that just had the word “Pink” across the front with little pink rhinestones. It made her smile as she pulled it on, since Brynn’s hair was the same soft shade of pink.

  When she traded her Armani Exchange jean shorts for a pair of True Religion jeans with a few tears across the front of the thighs, she felt a bit better. The jeans looked good on her. They were something she’d bought for a party once and ended up never wearing them because her friends had all decided to go in dresses instead. Lord knows why she left them forgotten in her closet, but she thanked everything in the clouds for having found them now. They had the same rocker feel Brynn exuded so easily.

  One last time, she stopped in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror inside her closet. Yes, Brynn should be okay with this, she thought, smoothing a hand down the front of the shirt.

  The doorbell rang just as she exited her closet. She slammed the doors shut and darted down the stairs as if someone had lit a fire in those rocker jeans of hers.

  Luckily, her mom had been okay with leaving her at home. Well, she’d complained about it at first, but Cassidy had dramatically explained that if she didn’t work on this project, she would fail her class and it would drastically impact her final grade, thus ruining her chances to get into a good college and potentially creating a snowball effect that would have Cassidy living at home with her seventeen cats. Her mom understood and went to the mall with Nana without her. That actually gave Cassidy most of the day alone with Brynn, since her grandmother tried on no less than ten pairs of sandals at the Birkenstock store, fourteen bras at Macy’s, and usually stopped to eat at least twice. Nana was a sucker for those freshly baked cookies and the bourbon chicken at the food court.

  Standing in front of the door, she released a deep, meditative breath as she clasped her hand around the elaborately scrolled handle. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why she was so nervous, but she was.

  Here we go….

  The door opened to reveal Brynn, standing on the front porch with the California sunshine highlighting the pink shades of her hair. Her bow-shaped lips were tinted with a light pink gloss, and her eyes were accented with the softest, palest pink shadow. Her outfit was considerably less gothic than her usual garb. The short skirt she wore revealed a patch of flawless, creamy skin between the hem and the tops of her knee-high socks, and the Mary Jane shoes she had chosen really tied her ensemble together. She looked almost innocent, bathed in sunlight and dressed in such a schoolgirl-type getup.

  Beautiful, Cassidy almost blurted out loud.

  Catching herself, she opened the door a bit wider, smiled, and said, “Hey, Brynn. Come in.” She suddenly felt a bit underdressed in comparison to Brynn’s perfectly put-together outfit. Well, the tables sure had turned quickly, hadn’t they? It was normally Cassidy who was over accessorized and done up head to toe.

  Funny, that.

  “Thanks,” Brynn said softly, hugging herself as she eased by. Cassidy caught a whiff of jasmine in the breeze. That girl smelled so freakin’ good. Cassidy had just begun to lose herself in the scent when
the sound of Brynn’s voice pulled her back. “Mom wants me home by seven… unless we get caught up in the project.”

  “That’s okay,” she replied, closing and locking the door behind her. “Are you hungry? Wanna eat something first? Thirsty or something?” Cassidy Rivers, Suzy Homemaker extraordinaire. Not quite, since she really didn’t know how to cook much, but she could play hostess. Pointing to the kitchen, she kept the smile plastered on her face. Not that she could wipe it away if she tried.

  “I, um… I could use something to drink, I guess.”

  Cassidy sprung into action. “Come this way,” she said before leading Brynn past the living room just off to the side of the airy, sunlit kitchen. “We have water, juices, most types of diet sodas, and almond milk.”

  “Diet Coke is cool, if you got it.”

  “Yep, sure do.” Cassidy quickly fished a Diet Coke from the fridge and handed it to Brynn, trying not to enjoy the way Brynn’s fingers brushed against hers for the briefest of moments in the exchange.

  “Thank you,” Brynn nearly whispered, as if she had lost her voice or something. Her cheeks turned a rosier red.

  “So I was thinking—” Cassidy cleared her throat, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. “—we could work in my room, since there’s an iPod hook up for the stereo system and a table we can spread all our stuff out on….”

  “That’s—”

  “Um, if that’s cool with you,” she quickly added, cutting off Brynn’s words.

  “Your bedroom is fine.”

  “Great, follow me. It’s right up the stairs, and there’s a bathroom in my room if you need to go or whatever.” Eww. Why had she just said that? How utterly freaky. The day was seemingly full of surprises. Hoping Brynn wouldn’t think she was trying to perv on her while she peed or something, she turned on her heels and headed up the stairs to her room with the heat of a blush burning her cheeks and Brynn in tow.

  Once inside her preppy, typical A-list bedroom, she felt her cheeks burn even hotter. This was the part she had almost feared. Having Brynn take one look at the decor in her room and automatically label her as something she really was not. The moment of truth, it seemed, had arrived. “Um… so this is my room.”