BeSwitched, Page 3

  Chapter 3

  “That’s most of my baby-sitting money you’re using to get my nails done!” Cathy hopped onto her dresser, where Surla scattered money out of a wallet. It was early the next morning and Cathy’s mom had already left for work.

  “I’m sorry, but your nails are in bad shape. You must have bit them every time you got bored.” She counted out about twenty dollars. “I have pride in keeping mine long and sharp.”

  “Well, forget about the sharpness,” Cathy said, then counted what was left of her cash. “I only have fifteen bucks left!”

  “Good.” Surla snatched it up. “I can buy you a collar and leash with that.”

  “A leash? I am not a dog!”

  “We can’t be too safe.” Her new blue eyes opened wide. “If Idis sees me, who knows what will happen.”

  Cathy thought it over. “I guess you’re right.”

  “And of course you aren’t a dog.” Surla laughed. “You’re too clever.”

  Surla put on a pair of blue jeans and borrowed a navy blue turtleneck from her new mom’s wardrobe. Soon they left with money to spend, on a bus headed toward the nearest mall.

  Surla opened the door to leave the pet shop. Cathy walked ahead of her, wearing her new red collar and matching leather leash. She wriggled her head back and forth feeling it around her neck. It’s not too bad, Cathy thought. It’s kinda like wearing a choker.

  Inside Shelley’s Nail Salon, it smelled strong of chemicals from the two different manicurist’s stations. One lady, with brown hair and bright pink lipstick, was already busy gossiping with a customer while giving her a french manicure. The other was sitting, reading a popular magazine. Her blond, curly hair was put up wildly in a ponytail. The two were into what they were doing so much, they didn’t even hear the bell when the door was opened.

  Surla walked slowly over to the blonde, who finally looked up from her reading. Her eyes were a sassy brown, accentuated even more by black eyeliner. It reminded Surla of a cat.

  “Hi! My name is Patricia, but you can call me Patty. What can I do for you today?” She stood, showing off how short and petite she was.

  Surla cleared her throat. “I came to get my nails done, because I’ve been biting them a lot lately and now I want to grow them out.”

  “Sure. I could do whatever style you want.” She then glanced down at Cathy.

  Surla noticed this and said politely, “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you think my cat, Licorice, can stay in here with me? I don’t want to let her out of my sight.” She looked down to see Cathy rubbing her head against Patty’s ankles.

  “Oh, Okay.” She smiled. “As long as my boss isn’t here. She won’t distract you, by like jumping on your lap while I’m working on you, will she?” Patty sat in her chair.

  “Don’t worry,” Surla assured her, “Cath… I mean, Licorice, is a well behaved cat.”

  “I hope you’re right.” She laughed and organized her tools before starting.

  Outside, at a nearby park, Revere Park, Idis was becoming more clever than frustrated. A pile of papers were clenched in her hands. She had a plan. Today, she was dressed like the rest of society. Her flaming-red hair was placed as neatly as possible into a french twist. Her dress was black, but longer than usual and didn’t cling to her body as much. She even wore some spectacles; there wasn’t much she could do about her beak-like nose they sat on though.

  “Excuse me.” Idis almost choked on such proper words. She had stopped a man with an obvious toupee, carrying a briefcase. His cheeks were pudgy and his beard looked maybe three days old.

  “Yes?” He was taken aback, looking at her nose in awe.

  “Here.” Idis shoved a paper in his free hand. It had a crayon drawing of Surla on it. “Have you seen this cat? It’s mine and it ran away.”

  He looked down and smiled at it. The picture looked as if a five-year-old was the artist. It was clear that it was black with yellow eyes, which was probably good enough.

  “Sorry.” His eyes went straight to her nose again. “I haven’t seen any black cats around lately. I’m a very busy man. I’m going to the bus stop, so I can get to work now. Good luck.” He chuckled, walking off. “I wouldn’t even notice if my wife brought home a cat.”

  “Yeah, well, I hope you have a rotten day, too,” Idis muttered.

  Back at Shelley’s Nail Salon, Patty was filing Surla’s new red nails. Surla couldn’t keep her eyes off of Patty’s eyeliner. It appealed to her catty taste.

  “Your eyes are so pretty,” Surla finally said as her thumb was being worked on.

  “Thanks,” she said modestly. “It took me a while to learn how to do my makeup nice. Without it, I look like an owl.” She finished filing. “Is this a good shape for you?”

  Surla spread her fingers, looking at the rounded shapes. “Can you make them more pointed?”

  The manicurist gave her a funny look while Cathy (sitting on Surla’s lap) nudged her stomach in disapproval. “Are you sure?” Patty asked.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Surla said. “I want them all sharp…er, more or less.

  “Oookay.” She took her file and worked hesitantly.

  Surla spent two hours preparing for her first day of high school. She put her brown hair into a high ponytail, wore blue jeans, and a tight black top borrowed from Cathy’s mother again. Her icy blue eyes were lined like Patty’s, making them appear sapphire. Lastly, Cathy prepared her with the list of classes and a backpack to put all her books inside.

  Once Surla was walking through the halls of Washington High, a surge of excitement went through her body. A day that Cathy dreaded, Surla was anticipating. I wonder who I’ll make friends with, Surla thought as she looked at all the many different faces of teenagers, all shapes, sizes, and races. What surprised her the most was mostly all eyes were on her—at least the guys’ were anyway.

  Heads were turning everywhere. One guy was staring at her so much so, he accidentally walked right into a pole; he paused for a second, startled, and then went on staring as if nothing happened. I sure am attracting a lot of attention. Surla was amazed.

  The school was bigger than she expected also. She saw many steps, halls, courts for playing basketball and tennis, a football field, and a theater for acting.

  The bell rang, startling Surla. She pulled her wadded up schedule out of her pants pocket. First, I have History, she read, in room 509. Where is that? She saw the closest classroom door said 218. Oh no, it will take me forever to find this class.

  Students were rushing to their classes with their friends. Surla felt overwhelmed. Just keep walking, she told herself. You’ll find it eventually. She couldn’t let anyone know she wasn’t sure of the demographics to the school she had supposedly attended for the last two years.

  She continued down the hall and turned the corner, almost bumping into a tall, dark-haired guy, wearing a red letterman jacket.

  “Cathy?!” His surprised, green eyes opened wide, looking Surla up and down.

  “Yes.” She smiled, wishing she could call him by name also.

  “Wow, you look so… different.” He smiled back.

  Who are you? she wanted to say.

  “Why are you going this way?” He laughed. “History is in the opposite direction.”

  Thank goodness. He must have class with me. I can follow him. “Oh, I know. I was just…” She was at a loss for words. “Never mind.”

  She went with him across the quad to another building of classes. If this is Craig, Surla thought, then Cathy has good taste.

  “Come sit by me,” he said, leading her to a desk in the back. Once again, Surla noticed all the staring eyes.

  “Oh my gosh!” said the girl sitting on the opposite side of her, covering her mouth. She was a cute girl with big brown eyes and a matching bob hair-do.

  At that exclamation, a blond girl turned in her seat to look. She was pretty with pouty lips. “Wow, she’s wearing makeup,” she said with the least amount of excitement as possible. “Well, it’s abo
ut time. I think she heard us Friday when we were talking about her.”

  “Tiffany!” the other girl said disapprovingly.

  “What, Chrissy?” She lifted her eyebrows. “What’s with you? You’re so ‘goody-goody’ sometimes. And don’t give me that attitude.”

  That definitely has to be the snobby Tiffany, Cathy was telling me about, Surla remembered. It’s about time Cathy talks back, instead of being the same timid mouse she always has been. “Excuse me,” Surla said to Chrissy.

  “Yeah?” Chrissy said hesitantly.

  “Did she just say you were the one with the attitude?” Surla made sure she was loud enough for Tiffany to hear.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s very funny, coming from her.”

  Surla could see Tiffany breathe in deeply. Tiffany then turned around to say, “Stay out of my and Chrissy’s business.”

  Surla looked to her left to see that the guy wasn’t in his seat. She glanced around the room and quickly spotted him sharpening his pencil. Surla took the opportunity to growl behind Tiffany’s back, “Reeeow.” If she had her other ears, they would have been flattening to her head. Then, she smiled at Chrissy. A smile crept on Chrissy’s face also, as she unsuccessfully tried to hold back laughter.

  Tiffany, once again, turned in her seat, this time looking Chrissy straight in the eyes. “I know you are not laughing at me, because nobody laughs at me.”

  By this time the guy had returned to his seat next to Surla. “Hi, Todd,” Tiffany said, smiling.

  “Hey, Tiffany.” He smiled back, then grabbed his backpack to pull out a binder.

  So, that’s not Craig, Surla realized. He’s cute though… for a human.

  A short, balding man with glasses approached the front of the classroom. “Okay, everyone, you know the drill. Pass your homework assignments up to the front row.”

  Bags and binders were shuffled through, including Surla’s, but she couldn’t find any homework for History. The teacher noticed Surla’s confusion and walked over to her desk. “Where’s your assignment, Cathy?”

  “I’m sorry. I was really busy this weekend, so I don’t think I got it done.”

  “This isn’t a class to slack off in. Remember the grade you received on your last test?”

  She knew by the tone in his voice, it must have been really bad. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  His face lightened up a bit. “Okay, then I expect you’ll do better next time.”

  Do better next time? Surla was worried. But what do I know about History? Then she quickly reconsidered. Hey, it’s not like I was born yesterday. I’m not sixteen years old like Cathy. Her mind backtracked to the time she and Idis lived in Salem, Massachusetts—where the witch trials were held.