Old Magic by Marianne Curley Page A

for Jarrod. I can’t help remembering only this morning when it appeared Jessica Palmer was with Jarrod. I bet she’s not pleased with the switch. But of course, what Tasha wants, Tasha always gets. It’s her upbringing. Ultra rich. Unbelievably spoiled. Her parents own a Hereford stud farm, but they don’t work it themselves. It’s Doctor Daniels, and his wife’s a lawyer and president of the local Country Women’s Association—Ashpeak’s most prominent professionals.
    I blow my nose, hating these pre-winter sniffles, and think about it all. We should have seen this coming. Tasha’s been drooling over Jarrod ever since that first memorable morning in the science lab. Even Pecs saw her interest. But Tasha is one hell of a manipulator. I mean, who am I kidding? She has more social pull at this school than Pecs would in a lifetime. He’s just a brute, while Tasha is it. The one with whom everyone wants to be seen. Pecs adores her. Pecs ogles her. Tasha is queen of Ashpeak High. There is no other on this mountain who can match her on all three counts: looks, arrogance, and social standing.
    It occurs to me, now that Jarrod is so obviously an accepted member of their group, Pecs will have to find someone else to get stuck into. Pecs is like that, has to have his kicking bag.
    Hannah’s looking at me strangely, as if she’s waiting for a reply from someone who’s just left for another planet. I try to recall what she said, something about Tasha being involved with Jarrod and not Pecs. “Who cares?”
    “Ahh, you don’t, of course,” she returns with sarcastic sweetness.
    I roll my eyes and decide to get another cappuccino. No way can I get a waitress’s attention in this crowd so I go straight up to the counter. Bad move. Two people see me. The first is Jarrod with a weird expression on his face, like I’ve caught him off guard. I pay for my coffee, keeping my eyes lowered, but sense he’s still staring. I can’t stop myself from stealing one quick glance. But when my eyes catch his they don’t budge. Moisture dries in my mouth.
    Pecs looks up to see what Jarrod is looking at, and when he sees me, he scoffs loudly. “Can’t blame you staring, man.” He slaps Jarrod on the back in an all-male, best-buddies gesture. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. We call her the Freak Show.” His hands fly up, one on either side of his thick face, fingers splayed, exaggeratedly trembling.
    Some of my coffee spills as I hurry back to my booth. It isn’t Pecs’s sick remark that has me worried. I can take plenty of them. It’s the look on Jarrod’s face—bitten with sudden hardness. I’ve seen it before—in Mr. Garret’s science lab moments before that bizarre storm. His green eyes are blazing at Pecs, who’s so oblivious he’s still snickering under his breath.
    “Don’t mind her.” This from Tasha, her hands all over Jarrod now, tugging him back down, claiming his attention. She’s sitting so close, if she moves one more centimeter she’ll be in his lap. “Sure, she’s good entertainment value, but her grandmother’s the wild card. And even though her shop’s interesting enough—I go there myself sometimes—the real stuff is hidden in the back rooms. Jillian’s into live sacrifices, you know. They drink blood and hold black masses.” He stares at her incredulously, eyebrows raised. Immediately she pouts. “It’s the truth, Jarrod. Every word.” Her eyes widen while her gleaming pink mouth trembles affectedly. “I’ve seen drops of blood on the carpet myself.” Her head swings momentarily to the side. “Something red, anyway. And,” she adds in a husky whisper, close to his ear now, “they’ve been seen dancing naked in the rain forest. It’s disgusting—pure devil worship.”
    Her head swings away so that the others at her table (and the surrounding half-dozen tables) hear her distinctly. “There’s only the two of them, but, well, who would have them?”
    The glass shatters