Rhymes With Witches Read Online Free PDF

even with Phil, I couldn’t be that pathetic.
    â€œI should go,” I said. “I should make myself go to bed.”
    â€œYeah, me too. See you tomorrow?”
    â€œUh-huh. I’ll be the one rescuing kitty cats and saving the world.”
    â€œSuper Janie,” he said. “You could wear a T-shirt with a big red J.”
    â€œA leotard, like Wonder Woman. With huge red undies.”
    He laughed, and I pressed the off button on my phone.

    In bed, as shadows played on my walls, my thoughts spiraled back to Rae’s story about four girls who would do anything to be popular. Silly, stupid story—yet in the dark, even stupid stories misbehaved.
    I remembered something Mom told me once, about two girls in her hometown. They’d snuck to a cemetery late at night, because they’d heard that if you stuck a knife into a fresh-laid grave, its ghost would rise from the dead. One of the girls knelt on the grave and plunged the knife deep. She tried to stand up, but she couldn’t, and she screamed that the ghost had grabbed her. The other girl fled, and when she returned with her parents, she found her friend collapsed over the grave, no longer breathing. She’d stabbed her nightgown when she’d stabbed the grave, pinning herself to the ground. Her panic overcame her, which meant she’d basically died of fright.
    Although, come on. As I replayed the story in my head, I realized that it couldn’t have really happened. What teenager has everdied of fright? It was just a story Mom passed on after hearing it from a friend, from someone whose brother’s cousin’s fiancé had actually known the two girls. Or whatever. It was a story Mom told me for fun, to make goose bumps prick my arms.
    But stories couldn’t hurt you.
    I imagined four girls giggling as they made their way to Crestview’s empty storage room, the beams of their flashlights skittering off the walls.
    And then, at some point, the giggling would have stopped.

    I dreamed of cats, of sharp claws tapping through darkened halls.

    Wednesday was a waste. Thursday was a bigger waste. In the daylight hours Rae’s story faded to just a whisper, but the fact of the Bitches remained, making me hyperaware of everything I did. How I held myself, how I talked, how I laughed. And all because of the remote possibility that one of the Bitches might be around to notice.
    â€œCould you give it a rest?” Alicia said during study hall. She’d been leaning forward, obsessing out loud about her latest cheerleading drama, but now she flung herself back in her chair. “They’re not here, Jane.”
    â€œWho’s not here?” I asked. When she didn’t buy it, I said, “I was listening. I was. You said that for the tryout, you have to be able to do a split or you’re eliminated.”
    â€œI said you
don’t
have to do a split. You can just squat if youhave to, which you would have known if you weren’t so busy acting dramatic.” She widened her eyes and gave a fake gasp. She drew her hand to her chest.
“A split?”
she mimicked.
“You have to do a split?!”
    I felt myself blush. I glanced around, praying the Bitches really weren’t here.
    â€œGod,” Alicia said. “You’re embarrassing yourself and you don’t even know it.”
    I twisted the metal wire of my spiral notebook, because I
did
know it. Other people acted natural in group situations, no problem. But not me. Especially when there was a chance someone might see.
    Alicia gathered her books and shoved them into her backpack. “Stupid me, I thought you actually cared about my boring, pathetic life.”
    â€œI do,” I protested.
    â€œUh-huh.” She glared. “Well, all I can say is that if you do become popular, you have to take me with you. Swear?”
    I groaned. “I thought you said to stay clear of them. I thought you said they were evil.” I made