Read Parties & Potions #4 for Free Online Page B

entire school she’s a witch.
    Maybe I imagined it.
    Yes. I must have imagined it. My witchy brain is playing witchy tricks on me.
    “Excuse me?” Cassandra asks, voice thick with repugnance.
    “I said, I’m a witch. It’s nice to meet you.” She sticks out her hand. “I’m Wendaline. I’m new. I’m a freshman.”
    Cassandra just stares. She’s obviously not sure if she’s dealing with a freak or if she’s being put on. “Whatever.” She flicks a hard curl off her shoulder and turns away.
    Her friends snicker.
    This is not good. Not good at all. Wendaline just antagonized the new leader of the A-list. I’ve already experienced being hated by the leader of the A-list. It sucks.
    Mrs. Konch walks across the stage. I sink into my seat and count the seconds until the assembly is over.

     
    Throughout the welcome-back/greet-the-new-bio-teacher/ please-keep-cows-out-of-the-refurbished-gym-this-year speech, my shoulders are so tense, they’re practically in my ears. The second we’re told to proceed to our respective homerooms, I mumble to Tammy and Raf that I’ll see them later, and push Wendaline back in her seat.
    I take a deep breath. “Please explain to me, why are you wearing what you’re wearing?”
    “What? The cloak?”
    “Yes! The cloak! The witch cloak! To school! This isn’t Hogwarts! It’s JFK High! In New York City! Why are you wearing it?”
    Her doe eyes are wide with bewilderment. “Because … because … Miri said it looked good!”
    “Miri? My sister?”
    “Yeah!”
    My whole body shudders. “Never take fashion advice from my sister. Ever. And can you tell me why you thought you could wear the hat?”
    She hugs her schoolbag. “I was having a bad hair day.”
    The homeroom bell rings and I shake my head. This girl is completely infuriating. “More importantly, why would you tell Cassandra what you told her?” I don’t even want to say the word aloud. Not here. Too risky.
    “What are you talking about?”
    This girl needs a serious talking-to. “We have to get to class. Come find me at lunch, okay? I’ll explain everything.”
    “Sure. Thanks, Rachel.”
    “No problem,” I say magnanimously. “In the meantime, don’t tell anyone else that you’re”—I lower my voice—“a witch.”
    “But—”
    “No buts. Oh, and you definitely need to change!” I hold on to her until we’re the only ones left in the auditorium, focus on her, and chant:
“That outfit will not impress.
Please turn that cloak into a dress!”
     
    A rush of cold and … zap! I know I’m messing with the rules of magic, but there’s no other choice. All I can hope is that the dress she gets is off a hanger and not off some poor girl who’s now wearing nothing but underwear.
    The cloak morphs into a long black shirtdress. She looks great! She still has on her leggings, but her top has short bubble sleeves and a scooped neck. “You look great!”
    “But, but—”
    “What did I say about buts? We’re going to be late!” I grab her arm and pull her through the swinging doors, down the now empty hallway, and up the stairs. “You’re in there,” I say, pointing to room 303. “I know it makes no sense that it’s on the second floor, but that’s JFK for you! I’ll see you at lunch!”
    “But, Rachel—”
    “No buts!” I wave and hurry up the next flight of stairs, rush through the hall, and burst into my new room and the empty chair beside Tammy just before the second bell rings.
    Phewf!
    “Hey,” Tammy says, eyeing me up and down. “Did you change?”
    I look down. I’m wearing Wendaline’s cloak over my jeans. Except in blue.
    I sigh. At least I’m not in my underwear.

     
    “Can I steal a fry?” Tammy asks me. It’s eleven a.m., which, unfortunately for freshmen and sophomores, means lunch period. What normal people eat lunch at eleven? The school should at least call it brunch period. Tammy and I are sitting in the caf with the very serious Janice Cooper, the very chirpy