“So which one do you prefer? Pee or baby?” Mariabella teases, and I can’t help but note the jealous glare Brittany throws my way. Interesting.
“Neither, you weirdo.”
Mari simply sticks out her tongue at me.
“Practice is going to be brutal today,” a cheerleader named Cat gripes as she shoves a grape into her mouth. She brushes a dirty blonde lock behind her ear as her other hand plucks at a thread on her oversized hoodie. I swear that girl has an entire collection of those things, since she wears a new one every day. “Coach is making us start practice for competitive instead of just sideline.”
“I heard that we’re going to spend two hours just on tumbling,” Gabriella adds.
“It shouldn’t be too bad,” Brittany muses. She reaches across the table to steal a fry from Cat’s plate, her arm purposely brushing against Mariabella’s breasts. I am so going to ask Mari for all of the juicy details tonight. Because subtle boob touches?
Girl, what are you hiding?
“You would say that,” Gabriella huffs. “You’re the best tumbler on the team. Well, besides Peony.”
It feels good to talk and laugh with other girls. I love Mariabella, don’t get me wrong, but this…hanging out with a group of girls…feels nice. I’ve never experienced the comradery of female friendship before. The gossip. The inside jokes. For the first time in forever, I feel like I belong somewhere.
But a pit opens up in my stomach and swallows me whole at the reminder that I used a spell to get where I am. I wouldn’t be on the team without the flexibility potion.
“What the fuck?” Gabriella breathes, snapping me out of my pensive thoughts. Across the table, Mariabella’s eyes widen into saucers as her mouth drops open. I follow the direction of her gaze to see four familiar figures stalk into the cafeteria.
They move with an imperiousness and grace that make everyone stop what they’re doing and stare. The sheer confidence they exude takes my breath away. They seem to innately command the respect and attention of everyone in the immediate vicinity.
“What do they have in their hands?” one of the girls whispers, but I don’t look away from the Devils to see who spoke.
One by one, the four men move to stand on the table in the center of the cafeteria, scowls marring their handsome faces. In their hands, they hold bowls of a foul-smelling, clumpy-looking liquid. Is that…? I lean forward to get a better look, my eyebrows practically disappearing into my hairline.
Is that chili?
I remember back in middle school, when they cornered me in the cafeteria and dumped cold chili over my head. They began to laugh obnoxiously, while angry and humiliated tears pricked my eyes. I remember thinking about how much I hated them, how I wished they would pay for their sins.
If the Grim Reaper had a physical form, she would look like Peony Simone.
Smoke wafts from each of their bowls now, indicating that it’s still hot, as their cold, expressionless eyes survey the crowd.
Before locking on me.
I wilt underneath their combined stares, even as the rest of the cheerleaders begin to whisper amongst themselves, wondering what the fuck is happening. Only Mariabella remains quiet, reaching across the table to take my hand in hers.
And then in complete unison, almost like they rehearsed this beforehand, the Devils dump the bowls over their own heads.
Silence descends as every student gapes at them in stunned disbelief.
And then the laughter starts. It’s not instantaneous, more like a rippling wave. One person breaks into loud laughter near the back of the room, followed immediately by another. And then two more. And then ten more. It isn’t long until the entire room breaks out into giggles and points at the disheveled kings.
“What the fuck?” Gabriella screeches, tears of laughter running down her cheeks as she stares at the Devils. The reddish-brown clumps stick to their heads and drip down their faces, staining their clothes.
Mariabella glances at me with an eyebrow raised, and I nod once, easily able to read the question in her eyes. Her face darkens when she realizes that the Devils once did the same thing to me, five years ago, and I wonder if she remembers that moment. If she remembers me standing in front of all of my classmates, shaking and terrified. How can she not? I doubt there’ve been a lot of instances in her life where she witnessed a girl being shamed in front of the