Witch - By Fiona Horne Page 0,34

for me playing land-based competitive sports was more fun. Until I’d come to Summerland High I had always shied away from group anything – so it almost felt subversive to me to run around sweating with other people in a sporting environment.

And my chosen sport was basketball. Not very magical, I know – unless you played like Alyssa and me. We had a little bit of an unfair advantage. She played defence and, being psychic, she knew where all the players were all the time! I was always goal-shooter, and Alyssa was getting really adept at moving things with her mind, using this psychokinetic energy stuff, so somehow my ball always made it through the hoop – always.

Our coach didn’t notice our magical manipulations, and we even earned a begrudging respect from some of the cooler kids, because even without the magic bit, we really did carve up the court.

We high-fived each other as we came off from playing another scorching quarter. Rebecca Gibson, a friend of Cassidy’s, gave us a nod and a small smile before Cassidy grabbed her arm and pulled her away from us, giving me the stink-eye.

‘I’m so sick of this bitchy cool-clique stuff,’ I said to Alyssa. ‘Why can’t we all just get along? Why can’t everyone be cool? Who decided that being skinny and stuck-up were the most admirable qualities in high schools?’

‘I don’t know.’ She shrugged. ‘Shows like Pretty Little Liars?’

‘I hate that show,’ I said.

‘I know. I do, too,’ said Alyssa, laughing.

And that got me thinking. Why couldn’t we all get along? Why couldn’t we all be cool? Perhaps there was a way to make that happen. I couldn’t wait to talk to the others about it. I was sure they were going to love the idea.

But I was wrong. Bryce was totally against it when I raised the idea at lunchtime.

‘Vania, you have no idea – it’s not fun being cool. You’re judged very heavily by the other cool people, and everyone is really shallow. It’s all about how you look and how much money your parents have; what kind of car they drive; whether you drink . . . It’s pathetic. I left that crowd for a reason, you know.’

‘You must miss it sometimes, Bryce,’ I teased.

‘Seriously, I don’t!’ he retorted.

‘Well, why do you look at Cassidy all the time then?’ I immediately regretted my words. Amelia squeezed my leg super hard under the table, and Dean looked at me and shook his head.

‘I don’t look at Cassidy all the time,’ Bryce said, rolling his eyes. ‘I look at her sometimes . . .’ – at this I had to roll my eyes – ‘. . . because I wonder what I ever saw in her. ‘But I also don’t want enemies, and she cops me a lot of attitude. I had to give up my class presidency because of the campaign she put up against me.’

It was true; Bryce had lost his presidency the week before. Cassidy had gone out of her way to collect signatures requesting that a new class president be voted for. And now a snooty boy, Henry Shields, was in charge. I knew I wouldn’t be going to him with any issues I may have – he looked down on us nerds even more than Cassidy did.

‘It sucks that she was able to do that, Bryce,’ Dean butted in, ‘but let’s get back to the point. I like the idea of a spell that would make it easier for us to get some respect.’

‘Our mother always says “respect yourself and the rest will follow”,’ the twins chimed.

‘Not everyone has parents as awesome as yours,’ I snapped. ‘My parents are always telling me to pull my head in and that my opinions are worth nothing.’

‘Wow! Harsh, Vania! I’m sorry to hear that,’ Bryce said sympathetically.

‘Okay to be honest we’ve been getting along okay lately – but they used to say stuff like that a lot.’

‘Standard fare, I think.’ Dean shrugged. ‘I’m just relieved that my dad is sober now – he still says stuff sometimes, but at least he doesn’t hit me anymore.’

Once again, Dean’s challenging family life made me realise I should be counting my lucky stars, not complaining about my home life.

‘Where could we even get a spell like that from?’ asked Alyssa.

By now we all knew better than to get one off the internet. Then inspiration struck. ‘We could make one up ourselves!’ I declared.

‘How do we know it’s not going to backfire