Poison by Molly Cochran Page A

after the first snow, even though nothing had changed. Summer and the other three Muffies were still in vegetative states, and I was still being blamed for what had happened to them. The witches at Ainsworth believed I’d used magic against Summer, and the Muffies just thought I was generally weird and evil. Since there was no real evidence against me, I hadn’t been kicked out or anything, but my popularity rating had dipped from maybe a two on a scale of one hundred to absolute zero.
    Nevertheless, Aunt Agnes convinced me that running away wasn’t going to help anything and that the best way to prove my innocence was to act as if I weren’t guilty. The school tried to help. Mr. Midgen, the custodian, had complained about the bags of dog droppings in front of my door, so the halls were now monitored regularly and I could at least walk down the hall for a shower without stumbling through an obstacle course of smelly paper bags with my name on them.
    I tried to concentrate on my schoolwork and convince myself that being friendless had an upside, but I still felt rotten. I thought I’d found a friend in Morgan, but every time I went to the store to see her after that first day, the place was closed. I guessed that maybe her aunt had gotten held up longer than she’d thought, and that Morgan had gone home.
    I didn’t even know where that was. It would have been nice if she’d told me she was leaving, but to tell the truth, I was getting used to being ignored.
    Speaking of being ignored, my relationship with Peter had become, to say the least, uneventful. Half of his free time was now spent sucking up to his uncle Jeremiah, who showered Peter with expensive gifts—a laptop, a Wii, a smartphone, an iPad, plus a new wardrobe, haircuts at the best salon in Boston, and a couple of sessions with a cosmetic dentist, who managed to make Peter even better-looking than he’d already been, if such a thing were possible.
    The other half of the time that Peter had once spent with me was now devoted to hanging out with Bryce de Crewe.
    It was Hattie’s idea to enroll Bryce at Ainsworth, even though he didn’t have any records or ID of any kind. Not only was he accepted and all fees waived, but to my amazement, Miss P herself volunteered to tutor him privately to bring him up to grade level.
    “But who is he?” I asked Hattie one day before work. “Why does he sound weird and dress like a monk?”
    “He doesn’t dress any differently from anybody else,” Hattie answered, skirting my questions.
    “That’s because he’s wearing Peter’s clothes.” His gorgeous, expensive clothes, I might have added, since Peter dressed inonly designer labels these days. “When I first saw Bryce, he looked like Friar Tuck. And he acted like a gas stove was a miracle of modern science.”
    Hattie sniffed. “You sound pretty snooty for someone who’s known as the dog poop queen.”
    My eyes narrowed. “Not fair.”
    Hattie smiled in spite of herself. “You’re right,” she said. “But you’re nosy.” I was about to object, but she stuck a finger in my face. “Don’t try to deny it.”
    She had a point. “Okay. I guess you’re right. But I won’t say a word. I swear.”
    “Oh, really?” Hattie mused. “The way you didn’t say a word about Peter’s brother, and almost caused him to get killed?”
    She was referring to something that had happened the previous year, before we had known what the little kid could do. “I paid for that. Big-time,” I said. “And I haven’t said anything since. You know that.”
    She sighed. “Lord knows I’d be crazy to tell you anything,” she said, “but since you’ll be working with him, maybe you ought to know.”
    “Yes?” I asked eagerly.
    “But you’ll have to keep this to yourself.”
    I crossed my heart. Hattie gave me a skeptical look but told me anyway. “Bryce de Crewe is from a different plane of existence,” she said quietly. “At one time all of our ancestors lived