she will. Mrs. Carlson is very fair,” I said. “Geoff Coventry won the lead role of Shrek two years ago, when he was a junior, and it caused quite a stir even then. Still, none of the senior boys could sing quite like Geoff.”
“Then it’s settled. I’m going to win the role of Sandy Olsson.”
I burst out laughing. This time I laughed because I was complicit in her plans to sabotage the school’s tradition. Of course, in the back of my mind, I didn’t think Willow stood a chance of winning that role. Mrs. Carlson was a tough cookie when it came to assigning roles, and Debbie Lowe had an angelic voice. More importantly, she was next in line for the lead part. Honestly, I had no idea whether Willow could sing or dance, but it would be fun to watch her try to overturn the apple cart. On appearances alone, she might warrant a second look. And in the event she somehow beat the long odds and won the coveted role of Sandy Olsson, I could imagine the outcry from kids and parents alike.
Three jackals were waiting for us as soon as we exited the doors. Despite regulations, two of them stood smoking on school grounds. They laughed upon seeing us. I nodded for Willow to ignore them, but she gave the trio a sideways glance before moving down the steps to our right.
“If it isn’t Miss Perfect, hanging out with the new rich bitch,” one of the jackals called.
We continued to walk, book bags slung over our shoulders. I whispered to Willow not to pay any attention to those girls. When I glanced back, I noticed them following us.
“Hey, Katie. Why’s your weird little brother’s name Raisin? And what’s with that filthy mutt who follows him around?” Tiffany said.
I kept my mouth shut, despite the insult.
“Oh, and your mother totally messed up my friend’s hair the other day. She tells me she wants her money back,” Tiffany said, running over and standing in front of me. “I heard your grandfather’s lost his marbles and can’t even remember his own name.”
“Shut up, Tiffany,” I snapped.
“You gonna make me?” She turned to Willow. “Or maybe this skinny rich bitch will protect you, although looking at her skanky ass, I seriously doubt she could squash a fly.”
“Leave Willow out of this. She didn’t do anything to you.”
Tiffany shoved me so hard that I fell back onto the pavement. The humiliation of falling hurt more than the actual fall, especially since it happened in front of Willow. The girls laughed as I pushed myself up. I brushed off the front of my dress and wiped the dirt off my behind. When I looked over, I saw Willow snatch the cigarette out of Tiffany’s mouth and snub it out on her forehead. Tiffany shrieked in pain and stepped back, glaring at Willow with horror in her eyes. A red circle formed on the skin above her eyes.
“Crazy bitch. You’re gonna wish you didn’t do that,” Tiffany said, her hands balling into fists.
Willow did something that confused me. She dropped her book bag and pulled off her boots and stood there in stockinged feet. Tiffany took a step forward, and Willow spun effortlessly like a ballerina and performed a perfect kick to the girl’s head. Tiffany’s eyes rolled back, and she froze temporarily in midair before toppling like a felled tree. I stood there in shock, my hands over my gaping mouth.
“Any of you other bee-yotches want a piece of me?”
The girls ran over to Tiffany, who lay on the pavement, with drool dribbling down her chin. She tried to sit up but couldn’t. Her eyes were glazed over, and I knew it would be a while before she recovered from that vicious blow.
“Let’s get out of here, Katie. These friends of yours are sooo boring,” Willow said. She picked up her book bag, stepped into her boots, and strode briskly down the walkway. Stunned, I jogged to keep up with her.
“Where did you learn to do that?” I asked.
“I’ve been taking martial arts classes since I was three.” She smiled. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“We’re like blood sisters now, girl.”
“We are?”
“Of course,” she said, smiling as I jogged next to her. “You’re Katie Eaves, and I’m Bruce Lee, slayer of all bee-yotches.”
“Who’s Bruce Lee?”
She stopped and stared at me, in shock. “You really don’t know who Bruce Lee is?”