“Crap, Eveny, what’s the problem?” she snaps. “You’re going to get us into an accident!”
I flatten myself against the door. “Your snake is staring at me.”
“So?”
“So it’s creepy,” I say.
“Oh for goodness’ sake, grow up. Snakes are an important part of zandara. Did you know that in some parts of the world, people who practice magic even worship them?”
“You’re never going to get me to worship your snake.”
Peregrine laughs. “Of course not. If anything, he worships us.” I look back at Audowido, who’s still staring at me with his beady little eyes. I shiver as his tiny tongue darts out of his mouth.
“Aw, he likes you,” Peregrine says. “That’s his way of blowing kisses.”
Peregrine laughs, and I could swear that I can see Audowido crack a small, snakey smile.
As I walk down the hall toward first period flanked by Peregrine and Chloe, people turn and stare. And it’s not the who’sthe-new-girl? stares I got on Monday or the what’s-she-doing-with-The-Dolls? stares I got Tuesday. No, these stares are disbelieving and appreciative. A few guys whistle at me, and I feel myself turning red.
As we take our seats in English class, everyone turns to look at me. A cheerleader is openly glaring at me from the front of the room, and a guy wearing a Pointe Laveau baseball uniform and glasses is actually drooling.
“You’re welcome,” Chloe says, beaming at me.
“This is all because of my makeover yesterday?” I whisper.
“Maybe you’re underestimating how unfortunate you looked before,” Peregrine says.
I grit my teeth. “So this is your secret? You cast charms on yourselves, and boys just fall all over themselves with lust?”
Peregrine pouts dramatically. “You say that like it’s a crime! You’re forgetting that we’re both beautiful to start with, so it’s not like we need as much work as you do.”
“Leave her alone, Peregrine,” Chloe says wearily. “You know she’s pretty.” She turns to me and adds, “Just between us”—she gestures to her ample cleavage—“this is magic too!”
“Your chest?” I ask incredulously.
“Our whole bodies,” she replies. “Our moms created a charmed floral mud; the effects last about six weeks. It works amazingly.”
“Maybe if you play your cards right, we’ll let you have one too,” Peregrine says. She looks meaningfully at my chest and adds, “Your A cups will thank you.”
As much as I’d love to magically have the perfect body, Aunt Bea’s warning echoes in my head again. But can I really turn down something like this? I settle for saying, “Let me think about it.”
Peregrine snorts. “Suit yourself. But don’t blame me when the frat boys at our party mistake you for an eight-year-old girl.”
When I slink into my seat in third period French class with Mrs. Toliver, trying to avoid the catcalls in the hall, I’m surprised to see that Drew’s back.
“Hey! I didn’t know you had this class with me!” I say. “Are you feeling better?”
But Drew just stares. “What happened to you?” he asks. I’m not sure whether the question is appreciative or critical.
“A little makeover. No big deal.”
“Whoa,” is all he says. But the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
I clear my throat. “So you were out sick?”
“Yeah, must have been a stomach bug or something. I woke up Monday morning feeling totally gross. So how was your first week?”
“It was okay. I made some friends.”
“At this school? You must have magical powers or something.”
He’s just joking, but knowing how close he’s come to the truth makes me flinch. “Liv Jimènez is nice,” I say. “She says she knows you.”
“Liv? Yeah, we went to grade school together.”
“You don’t hang out with her now?”
“Not at school too much, just because we have different classes. But she comes to see my band play sometimes. She knows a lot about the music industry, actually. She’s a real cool girl.”
The bell rings, and Mrs. Toliver tells us to quiet down. Drew takes the seat beside me and scoots his desk a bit closer. “So what other classes do you have?” he whispers.
I dig my class schedule out of my backpack and hand it to him. “Bummer,” he says. “This is the only one we have together. Figures you’d be in all those smarty-pants AP classes.”
“Eveny? Drew?” Mrs. Toliver asks. “Think your conversation could wait until after class is over?”