Beautiful Creatures (Caster Chronicles 1)

I spotted Link in the parking lot. He was wearing a blond wig and a blue sweater with a Wildcats patch sewn on it. He was even carrying pom-poms. He looked scary and sort of like his mom, actually. The basketball team had decided to dress up like Jackson cheerleaders this year. With everything else that had been going on, it had slipped my mind—at least that’s what I told myself. I was going to get a lot of crap for this, and Earl was just waiting for a reason to jump all over me. Since I had started hanging out with Lena, I had developed a hot hand on the court. Now I was starting center instead of Earl, who was not too happy about it.

Lena swore there was nothing magic about it, at least not Caster magic. She came to one game and I made every shot. The drawback was, she was in my head throughout the game, asking me a thousand questions about foul shots and assists and the three-second rule. Turns out, she had never been to a game. It was worse than taking the Sisters to the County Fair. After that, she skipped the games. I could tell she was listening, though, when I played. I could feel her there.

On the other hand, maybe she was the reason the cheer squad was having a tougher year than usual. Emily was having a hard time staying on top of the Wildcats pyramid, but I didn’t ask Lena about that.

Today it was hard to pick out my teammates, until you got close enough to see the hairy legs and facial hair. Link caught up to us. He looked worse up close. He had tried to put on makeup, smeared pink lipstick and all. He hitched up his skirt, tugging on the straining pantyhose underneath.

“You suck,” he said, pointing at me across a row of cars. “Where’s your costume?”

“I’m sorry, man. I forgot.”

“Bull. You just didn’t want to put all this crap on. I know you, Wate. You wussed out.”

“I swear, I just forgot.”

Lena smiled at Link. “I think you look great.”

“I don’t know how you girls wear all this junk all over your face. It itches like hell.”

Lena made a face. She almost never wore makeup; she didn’t have to. “You know, it’s not like we all sign a contract with Maybelline when we turn thirteen.”

Link patted his wig and stuffed another sock down his sweater. “Tell that to Savannah.”

We walked up the front steps, and Boo was sitting on the lawn, next to the flagpole. I almost asked how that dog could have possibly beaten us to school, but by now I knew not to bother.

The halls were packed. It looked like half the school had skipped first period. The rest of the basketball team was hanging out in front of Link’s locker, also in drag, which was a big hit. Just not with me.

“Where’re your pom-poms, Wate?” Emory shook one in my face. “What’s the matter? Those chicken legs a yours didn’t look good in the skirt?”

Shawn pulled on his sweater. “I bet none a the girls on the squad would lend him a skirt.” A few of the guys laughed.

Emory put his arm around me, leaning in toward me. “Was that it, Wate? Or is it Halloween every day, when you’re hookin’ up with a girl who lives in the Haunted Mansion?”

I grabbed him by the back of his sweater. One of the socks in his bra fell down to the floor. “You want to do this now, Em?”

He shrugged. “Your call. Bound to happen sooner or later.”

Link stepped in between us. “Ladies, ladies. We’re here to cheer. And you don’t want to mess up that pretty face, Em.”

Earl shook his head, pushing Emory down the hall in front of him. As usual, he didn’t say a word, but I knew the look.

Once you go down that road, Wate, there’s no goin’ back.

It seemed like the basketball team was the talk of the school, until I saw the real cheer squad. Turns out, my teammates weren’t the only ones who had come up with a group costume. Lena and I were on our way to English when we saw them.

“Holy crap.” Link hit my arm with the back of his hand.

“What?”

They were marching down the hall single file. Emily, Savannah, Eden, and Charlotte, followed by every member of the Jackson Wildcats’ cheerleading squad. They were dressed exactly alike in ridiculously short black dresses, of course, pointy black boots, and tall, bent witches’ hats. But that wasn’t the worst part. Their long black wigs were curled into wild ringlets. And in black makeup, just below their right eyes were painstakingly drawn exaggerated crescent moons. Lena’s unmistakable birthmark. To complete the effect, they were carrying brooms, pretending to frantically sweep around people’s feet as they walked down the hall, in procession.

Witches? On Halloween? How creative.

I squeezed her hand. Her expression didn’t change, but I could feel her hand shaking.

I’m sorry, Lena.

If they only knew.