Family Magic by Chloe Price (old books to read .txt) 📖

my trump card. “Brad does.”

It kind of bothered me to use him as a weapon but at that point I was willing to access all the advantages I had. I was new to this standing up for myself thing, after all. I figured I’d get better at it eventually.

Besides, it might turn around and blow up in my face.

It didn’t.

“Brad is mine!” She shrieked, reaching out with French manicured claws like she wanted to tear my eyes out. “Stay away from him!”

How pathetic. I saw it so clearly in that moment, the desperate need for attention, the total and utter fear she had of being ignored, of not being noticed, not being the center of everything. The terror of loss of control, of being seen as weak or unworthy, of not being liked and accepted sat at the core of what Alison was.

How very sad.

The hard, heavy part of me that hated her and every bully like her softened.

“Wow,” I whispered. “I’m really sorry.” I meant it.

She froze, floored. “For what?” She snapped.

“For whatever it is that happened to you that made you this way,” I answered.

Alison hissed an intake of breath. Her face turned sheet white. I saw the rage rise within her.

“I am lead cheerleader,” she snarled at me, “and my boyfriend is the captain of the football team. My parents are so rich they could buy you ten times over. I have everything. I am everything. You feel sorry for me? You are the loser.”

My anger drained away. The last of the hate let go in a rush leaving me empty except for pity. I know she saw it in my face. I think that made her madder than anything.

“You have a lot of issues. You should try talking to someone about them before they eat you up, Alison.”

I heard laughter from those gathered behind me, but I didn’t feel good about it. I knew I was right. She was hurt, hurting so much she needed to lash out at people to make herself feel strong.

And I thought I had problems.

This time, I saw the leeching aura as she tried to draw power from those around her. Not magic, not exactly. Just the normal dominance grab of leader to followers.

Nothing happened and she felt it.

“Get out!” She tried for bitch but barely made it to annoying. “Leave me alone!”

She lost and she knew it. I know everyone else in the room knew it, smelled the blood in the water. For the first time for as long as I could remember, the blood wasn’t mine.

I ignored her order and stood there, putting all my sympathy in my face, my eyes, my stance. I even reached out toward her.

“Did you want to talk about it?” I asked her.

I thought her head would explode. I’ve never seen anyone turn that red and white so quickly. It didn’t help most of the room now laughed at her. Her face collapsed in on itself and, before she fled, I saw the tears start to spill over her cheeks.

It took me a minute to register the applause. I ignored it and left the bathroom.

As I took my seat in first period I tried to understand what I was feeling. I was supposed to be the winner, here. At least that was the impression I had from the cheers and air fives I accepted in a daze from my fellow classmates. I was supposed to be happy, proud of my victory, right?

So how come I felt like I was the bully now?

I avoided the attempts of my fellow students to congratulate me and practically ran to my next class so I didn’t have to talk to anyone. I hoped word hadn’t spread yet, but the same friendly stares, the same thumbs up kept coming from everyone I met.

Why had everything changed? Why did everyone in the school now want to be my friend? Was I really the first person to stand up to Alison Morgan and get away with it?

Wow, these kids needed to get a life.

I avoided or rebuffed every friendly advance that came my way all morning, getting madder and madder about the whole thing. How dare they think they could be my friends? Where were they when I needed support? Forget them and the horse they rode in on. The whole lone ranger Syd thing started to be pretty appealing.

The worst was the speculative look from Quaid. I stopped in the hall, facing him square on, the top of my head barely reaching his chin. He stared back at me, flat and unimpressed, but there was a softening in his face I hadn’t seen there before. My demon purred her happiness and reached for him while my anger slapped her back, refusing to give in so easily.

“Well?” I snapped at him.

“Impressive,” he said with a healthy dose of sarcasm.

If the bell hadn’t rung, I would have hit him.

Lunch was fun. Not. No, I did not want to sit at the popular table. No, I wasn’t interested in talking about what happened. No, you cannot buy me lunch. Thanks but no thanks!

I didn’t see Alison anywhere, and yes, I looked. Not to be vindictive, seriously. I felt awful about tearing her down in public like that. The bad guys acted that way, not the good guys. I caught Brad’s eyes and wished I hadn’t. He seemed pretty mad. But was he mad at me? I didn’t want to find out.

I sat in the corner of the cafeteria at a busted table no one used because it was so wobbly. It took a bit of balance to use it but I ate at it a few times before and had the hang of it.

I toyed with my sandwich, trying to decide if I could tolerate anything in my stomach right then when a pair of beat-up sneakers came to a halt inside my peripheral vision. I looked up at the smallest high school student I had ever seen.

And yes, as luck would have it, he was a guy.

He held his industrial orange tray in his slightly shaking hands. I noticed each and every fingernail was bitten so close they all bled at one time or another. I watched with appalled fascination as the top of his green Jell-O wobbled with his trembling. His backpack, fully loaded, slipped slowly down his shoulder, pulling his sci-fi T-shirt crooked. He blinked at me through thick glasses, little feet shuffling in those scuffed sneakers.

“Hi,” he said, snuffling a little, struggling to keep his tray upright while the backpack that weighed more than he did bent him to the right.

I reached out, not thinking, and took the pack from him before he dropped his tray. I guess he took it as an invitation.

He slipped onto the bench across from me, making the table wobble dangerously. He flashed me a nervous smile as everything settled again.

“Sorry,” he said. “Clumsy.”

“Syd, nice to meet you,” I answered. I don’t know if I was really trying to be funny but he thought I was.

His laugh was way too high-pitched for comfort as he wiggled his nose to adjust his glasses, rabbit like.

“Sorry, not what I meant,” he offered me his hand. Who did that? “I’m Simon. Nice to meet you too, Syd.”

Not that I had anything against Simon, but this had gone far enough. I was the lone wolf, now, no friends, no interest. Goodbye was on my lips when I was surrounded and my table filled up.

I sat there as the veritable crowd of strangers took a seat and made themselves at home.

“Syd,” Simon pointed at the girl who sat beside me, “this is Pain. That’s her boyfriend, Blood.”

Can you say Goth? Black hair, black nail polish, black eyeliner and eye shadow so thick it touched the cheekbones, black lipstick, black clothes, black, black and more black. Yes, on both of them.

I couldn’t tell what either of them looked like under all the gloom. For all I knew, they could have been related.

Ick.

Pain bobbed her head slowly, once. Blood dug into his food like it wasn’t dead yet.

Nice.

“This is Beth,” Simon went on, pointing at the normal-appearing girl next to Pain.

“Hi,” Beth said, offering her hand. In a daze, I shook it. “I like your hair.”

“Thanks,” I breathed. “I like yours too.”

She smoothed her fingers over her short brown bob and dimpled. Her smile reached her green eyes. If I could describe her in one word it would be neat. And tidy. Okay, that’s two words.

“Thanks.”

“And this is Page,” Simon said, gesturing with his little white plastic spoon, bits of unchewed Jell-O still clinging to it. I glanced at the beautiful blonde, perfectly dressed and made up, who kept her eyes down.

Why wasn’t she with the popular kids? She looked like one of them.

The question must have been all over my face. Simon leaned in and whispered, “Fallen Angel.”

Fallen Angel. Popular crowd discard. Wonder what she did to piss Alison off?

Better question was, who were these people and what did they want?

“We heard about what happened,” Simon said, pushing his glasses back more firmly on his face. “Heard you ousted Alison in a fair fight.”

“Did you mark her?” Pain peered up from under her dyed black hair, chocolate brown eyes almost black too.

“No,” I said.

“How come? I would have marked her,” Pain turned away, dreamy. She and Blood double fisted across the table.

Weird.

“No offense,” I said to Simon who appeared to be the impromptu leader of this little group, “but what exactly is it you want?”

Simon set down his chocolate milk and backhanded away the mustache.

“You beat Alison,” he said as if it explained everything.

“So?” My annoyance grew. This day wasn’t turning out the way I expected. I was suddenly very tired.

“You then proceeded to reject all of the popular kids.” He shrugged.

They all stilled, even Page.

“Again,” I said, “so?”

“You don’t want to be one of them,” Simon said. “That’s not why you did it.”

“Very good. So what does that have to do with all of you?”

Beth spoke up.

“We thought...”

I looked at her and back to Simon when she faltered.

“You’re not like them,” Pain said.

“I’ll definitely take that as a compliment,” I rolled my eyes. “Still doesn’t answer my question.”

Simon glanced around at the little group before looking back at me.

“We thought... if you didn’t want to be like them...”

“Yes?” I wanted him to spit it out already. Man, where was my patience?

“That maybe you wanted to be, you know, like us.”

Page’s laughter drew all eyes to her. It was subtle, painful laughter, heavy and wrenching, soft even, but from the deepest part of her. She shook with it, clinging to the edge of the table, one arm around her ribs as she laughed so hard she cried. She lifted her head, her mascara running over her perfectly made up face, the bitterness and cynicism clearly stamped on her, the kind of emotion that would age her beyond her years if she let it eat away at her much longer.

“No one wants to be like us,” she choked out, still laughing.

I stood up abruptly, pushing away from the table, trying not to get mad but wanting to make an impression.

“Listen,” I said to them, “I didn’t do what I did for you,” I pointed directly at Simon, “or for them,” I gestured into the rest of the cafeteria, “or for anyone. I did it because I just wanted to be left alone. Do you get it?” I asked him. “Do you?”

“You don’t want to make friends?”

He was so fragile, they all were. The outcasts of a society that wouldn’t accept them. They only had each other. And I wondered about that much. Page, I’m sure, would turn on them like a rabid animal at the first chance to be welcomed back into Alison’s good graces. And the Goth twins would likely self-destruct on very little notice. I shook my head. The last thing I needed at this point was a pack of misfits hanging off of me, seeking protection I could