more than a few seconds, was what if Peter was only being nice to Katie, too?
What if all the time they'd spent together, growing up, sharing pecan pie shakes
at Ray's Diner, was all just him being nice? What if she wasn't special?
No, that was negative thinking, and she squelched it.
It was her mission to protect Peter from this new girl.
Phase One: Keep him busy through the summer. That meant ramping up the
need for advice on her Scholarship Fair project, pool parties with Peter at her friend's house (without Penny, of course), and anything she could think of to keep the witch at bay.
Phase Two, which commenced after school started, was harder: Katie made
sure, whenever she could, that Penny never got a private word in with Peter, inserting herself into their conversations or making sure that one of her friends
(none of who liked the new girl, either) did likewise. But there was still the proximity issue at home. Penny didn't live right next door (Katie still had that advantage), but she was close enough. Too close, judging by the smiles and waves she saw them exchanging and the runs they took together every so often.
That gave rise to Phase Three, the final and trickiest phase of all: the upcoming Homecoming Dance.
She had been dropping hints like lead feathers since late in the summer: Is
homecoming early again this year, Peter?… What's the theme for homecomingagain, Peter?… What do you think of this homecoming dress I found online,Peter?
Even for a boy, he seemed to be dense about getting the hint.
She hadn't gone to a Homecoming Dance until last year when Brian
McDermott had asked her. Nice enough guy, but he wore too much aftershave and sweated when they slow danced. It had taken three days for the Brut to wash
off her hands. Peter always smelled clean, like Ivory soap. At least that's what the Clarks used for soap in their guest bathroom the last time she'd been over there.
It was the final phase, her way of getting Peter off the starting line. If they
could just go to homecoming together, then they could see what it was like to be
a couple. Take the photo together under the flowered arch, smiling, she in the pink chiffon dress she'd already picked out online, him in his tux rented from Maxwell's downtown, complete with a pink tie to match her dress. He'd see the
photo every day on his refrigerator where she knew his mom would stick it under a magnet.
Confidence flowed through her. She knew him. He was a science geek—he
just needed to see something in action, see the quantifiable results, and then he
would know they should be together.
It would be as factual as a chemical reaction, undeniable. Look at the charts
and numbers, Peter! See the graph?
It wasn't a perfect plan, but it was a good one, and it was going to work. She had a feeling, some inner voice telling her, This is it. He'll see it, he'll see me, and he'll know. We should be together.
College? They could figure that out later. Long-distance relationships
worked all the time, right? Once the Scholarship Fair was over, plan “Get Peter
to Homecoming” would be launched fully into action.
As someone walked by behind her table in the gym, she caught a whiff of something sickly sweet and overpowering. Her jaw clenched as she turned her head and wrinkled her nose. The perfect teeth, perfect long black hair, and perfect clothes. The Wispy Witch was here.
She watched Penny sidle over to Peter, start talking to him, laugh, and then
—yup, there it was, the perfect hair toss. She had a bet with her friends that Penny perfected her hair toss and simultaneous tittery laugh by practicing in the
mirror.
Katie's eyes narrowed. Penny had her own project two tables over from
Peter's, and there she was, hovering around Peter like a lovesick butterfly. She had a dozen other boys she could have glommed on to. Why didn't she pour her
poison on them?
Oh, that's right. He's too nice to her. Peter was always too nice.
Katie watched as he followed Penny to her table, where he twisted some insignificant knob on her insignificant pile of whatever her project was. Some box with a hat and a…Who cares? She probably had her dad buy it online, anyway.
Well, she could shoot a life-sized Saturn rocket with bells on it through the
