“You ready?" I glanced over at Racey, who held up one finger and sucked down the last of her coffee.
"I guess so." She leaned down and grabbed her retro plaid backpack, then leaned back against the car seat and closed her eyes. ”I’m not ready," she moaned,
I leaned back and closed my eyes too. I'd already shut off the Camrys engine, so it was going to get hot in here in about two seconds, but we needed to take a moment. "Yeah," I said. "Where did the summer go?"
"We got to the beach, what, once?" Racey complained
I thought back to the long, hot summer days and the long, hot summer nights. "Still, we had some fun," I pointed out. And I met Andre."
"Yeah. Racey opened her eyes and looked out the window. Some of our other friends were already gathered around the cement bench in front of the "Friendship Tree." Racey and I were the only witches in our group, but it wasn't a secret. There have always been witches in New Orleans, so it wasn't a big deal. Witches, Catholics, voodoo, Santeria, Jews-there was a lot of latitude about acceptable religions. Our friends thought it was kind of a hobby rather than a whole system of power. I didn't correct them.
Racey looked down at her nails, which were painted black with little white lightning bolts on them.
"Your nails match your hair," I realized.
She grinned at me. "I know I've got kind of a skunk thing going, but I like it" She took a deep breath and let it out, then unlocked her door. "Okay, I'm ready. Lets go rock this joint."
Laughing, I got out and unsuccessfully tugged my tank top down so it would meet my board shorts. Surely the school couldn't enforce their quaint "dress code" ideas today, not in this heat.
"Yo!" called Eugenie LaFaye, holding up a hand in greeting.
"So you got home all right that Saturday?" Delia asked with a smirk. The last time I'd seen her, I'd been trying to remember where the hell I'd left my car in a mall parking lot. That day felt like ages and ages ago-it was hard to believe I'd known Andre for such a short time. He'd changed my life so much, it was like his appearance had separated my history into two parts: before him and after him.
"Oh, sure," I said airily. "How many blue, 1998 Toyota Camrys could there possibly be in a mall parking lot? Like, two thousand?"
"Yeah, and she found hers after only one thousand, three hundred and seventy-eight," Racey said, and they all laughed.
"So we got lucky," I said, brightly.
"We've been checking out the talent," said Nicole, nodding at a bunch of guys over by the basketball hoops, Racey s little brother, Trey, was among them,
I looked over but without a lot of interest. Ordinarily, of course, my antennae would be quivering-gauging the guys, obsessing over what I was wearing, seeing who was checking me out, enjoying being able to stun guys with a look, a word. Now even the most studly senior guys looked like second graders. Realizing I was already feeling clammy at eight forty-five in the morning, I twisted my hair into a knot, fished a chopstick out of my backpack, and stuck it through. "Voila," I said, "Chic yet simple."
"Goofy yet messy," Eugenie said in the same tone.
"Ladies," said a voice, and I turned to see Kris Edwards stroll up.
"Hey, girl," I said, giving her a hug, "And how were the Swiss Alps?" Kris's family was stinking rich, and she'd spent the summer in Europe.
"Swissy," she said, hugging Racey next. Alpy."
"And the Swiss lads?' Nicole asked, "Your IMs left much to the imagination"
"For which we're thankful" I said, and Kris laughed.
"The Swiss talent was very, talented," she said, smirking, and Delia slapped her a high five. "And you?" she asked me, "Racey IM'ed that you'd met someone tall, dark, and dangerous,"
"Dangerous?" I looked at Racey, who shrugged, looking a little embarrassed, "Well, he's tall, dark, and fabulous, but he's not dangerous. His name is Andre," I said, trying unsuccessfully not to look too smug.
"Ooh, Andre" said Nicole, just as the first morning bell rang.
"He's French," I said, "With a real French accent. He could read the phone book and I'd be drooling," We started moving toward the side doors, following the stream of other students. As usual, the freshmen looked like they should be in sixth grade, I was sure we'd never looked that young.
"I love French accents," Delia said enviously,
"He is incredibly good-looking," Racey said loyally, and I smiled at her,
"Okay, let's see who we've got for homerooms," Kris said, and we headed for the senior lists on the walls,
I looked, but my mind wasn't on it. I kept thinking about lying with Andre beneath the tree and how sure I was that we were meant to be together. It was a completely different feeling than I'd ever had, and it changed everything-school, friends, my whole world. I felt older somehow. Two weeks ago I'd been another seventeen-year-old about to start senior year. Now senior year was just a stepping-stone to the rest of my life and the person I wanted to spend it with. It was weird: I felt somehow calmer and more sure than I'd ever felt but also more excited and full of anticipation than I'd ever felt. Two weeks ago I'd been just like all my friends. Now I had this huge relationship, and they didn't. And it made me different from them forever.