Perfect Revenge (3 page)

“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.

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?

She 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.

“I'll hold the door,” Stella says. “You, uh, better check the mirror.”

I'm afraid to look. I have to look. And when I do...“OH MY GOD!”

It's unbelievable. It's grotesque.
They're
grotesque. Blossoming on my forehead are not one but
three
enormous zits. I grab hold of a sink to keep myself from collapsing. I've never seen anything like it. I swear the zits are growing before my eyes. “This...I...you...”

The ability to form words leaves me. Until now, I was one of the chosen few who never got zits. Never. My skin has remained smooth and pure as a baby's. It's as gorgeous as my hair.

“I told you, Lizzie,” Stella whispers. “The Law of Three. Remember?”

Into the fog of my mind comes a memory. Something about magick coming back threefold. I'd completely forgotten that. “It's a
law
?”

Stella nods. “Big time.”

I feel myself blinking but not to stop tears. It's more like I'm in shock. Yes, I'm in shock, like someone who's just been in a car accident. I can't think, I can only blink. And then a thought does come. It's this. RUN! I look around. Way up high on the cement wall is a tiny window.

“Quick,” I say, “come and stand by this wall.”

“Why?” Stella asks.

“So I can get on your shoulders and reach the window.”

“I don't think so.” Stella shakes her head. “These windows don't open.”

“How do you know?” I ask.

She shrugs. “I've tried them.”

She tried them? Just how weird is this kid? There's no time to worry about that now. Instead I ask, “Couldn't you just, you know, make a spell to open it?”

“No.” Stella laughs. Actually laughs. “I don't have that kind of power. My gift is more about finding the talent in others. Like you. Only I didn't expect quite
this
much from you.” She laughs again.

I put my hands on my hips. “This is not funny. You got me into this mess. Now how am I going to get out?”

“I got you into this?” she asks.

“Yes! You taught me that stupid spell, didn't you?”

She shrugs. “True. But I also told you magick isn't a game, and I warned you about how it comes back threefold.”

She's right. She did tell me that. But that's beside the point. I still need to escape—unseen. “You wouldn't by any chance have a spell to make me invisible, would you?”

“Sorry. Can't do that either. But I can do something.” She takes the hideous green granny hat off her head and sticks it on mine. “There. Look at that. If you pull it low over your forehead, no one will see the zits. Poof! They're invisible.”

I stare at her. She has seriously bad hat hair. It's flat on top and then all those frizzy curls form a right angle at her ears and totally go their own way. I might feel sorry for her if I didn't have bigger problems.

Slowly, I turn and look into the mirror. And it's really, really weird because the hat actually looks sort of okay. Maybe even better than okay. It might even look good. “Wow,” I murmur, “this is my kind of magick.”

“Isn't it great?” Stella smiles. “It's my baba's. She loaned it to me.”

Her baba's? As in the old-school witch? I'm not going there. I can't. I just nod and say, “I guess it's better than nothing.”

I look at her and am shocked again by her hair. “Do you have a hairbrush?”

She digs in her backpack and comes up with a ratty old red brush. She holds it out toward me and says, “Here you go.”