Craft2 The Craft:
The Book Of The Movie

Chapter 2: They Don't Know About Me

Four girls woke up and prepared to get to class at St. Benedict's that day.

One rose well before the sun came up, giving her enough time to do some aerobics and treadmill before leaving for school. She had to keep in top physical condition in order to maintain her place on the swim team. Especially after the few training dates she had missed after that incident when she found racial slurs scrawled all over her gym locker in red lipstick. Rochelle knew it was Laura Lizzie who did it--that evil Marsha Brady-lookalike plagued her from day one at St. Benedict. It was hard being virtually the only African-American in an all-white school. But she knew she couldn't quit pursuing her dreams just because some bitches were intent on making her life hell. If only this thing with Manon was true... She felt guilty doubting the existence of Manon, of using terms such as "if", but...what if they were all doing these spells for nothing? Then they really would be the freaks the rest of the school thought they were, three crackpot girls talking to an imaginary "friend"... Rochelle expertly applied the dark Berry lipstick to her mouth and made a promise to herself--if something didn't happen soon, anything, she would quit the circle. She buoyed her pride, those beautiful brown corkscrew curls, with her fingers, making them rest on her head just so. Then she frowned in thought. Yeah. Quit the circle. And then convince her parents to get her into a new school, because even Lousy Lizzie was nothing compared to the wrath of a particular hot-tempered witch with short jet-black hair she knew...

Another girl lay in under her covers for almost a hour in dread before getting up. It wasn't so much school she was dreading, though that was no picnic for her either. It was taking off her clothes to take a shower. Taking a glimpse, no matter how hard she trained herself not to, of her deformed skin in the mirror. The sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach as her fingers glided over the rough bumpy scar tissue of her back. Bonnie wished she never had to take a shower a again, wished that she never had a reason to remove the layers of bulky clothing she draped herself in. But she didn't need to add poor hygiene to the reasons why the other kids shunned her. Bad enough being Burn-Victim Bonnie. She got out of bed, quickly took off her pajamas and underwear, ignored her mirrors, and jumped into the shower. She was done in ten minutes, and in less than five more she was covered up again. The curves of her well-endowed chest were still visible behind her bra and shirt and sweater and jacket; barely, but it was there. She could be pretty. She could be a knockout, she knew she could, if only Manon could hear...Bonnie knew Rochelle was getting impatient. But she still held out hope. And she was determined to stay. You know, for as long as 'Chelle did. She didn't know if she could handle being in the circle with Nancy alone. Besides, two was too small a number. In fact, so was three, as she pointed out to Nancy several times, before letting the subject drop, she had too little friends to begin with and didn't need to lose the few she had.

Yet another girl grabbed her clock upon hearing its annoying beeping and threw it across the room. Nancy was irritable today, more than usual. Something felt wet under the sheets, uncomfortable, and she pulled them back to find a bloody mess. Damn, she didn't expect it this early! Didn't she just have it? She could keep the phases of the moon straight for Esbats but couldn't keep track of her own menstrual cycle...Dammit damn damn!!! Mommy Dearest was going to have a cow if these stains didn't come out, but she didn't have time to wash anything. Nancy always gave herself just enough time to hop out of bed and get out the door, reason being that she hated life in this trailer so much she wanted to limit her waking minutes in its surroundings. Only time she felt anything anywhere near the realm of "good" was when she played loud rock music and sat before her little makeshift altar. If it wasn't her lush mom harping at her, it was her lech stepdad pawing at her. It was like her only reason to be on this Earth was to suffer in degradation. Her mom, stepdad, Chris, the rest of the stinkin' school. If she could key into the power of Manon, things would certainly be different. If she could draw the power of Manon into herself, some people would definitely get lessons hurled their way, as well as lightening bolts. She thought back to the spell the girls cast a couple of days before. Would anything happen? Nancy lined her eye in heavy black, the bright blue of her iris in sharp contrast. Something better happen. Something better. Something better happen, it just better happen. Or else God help even Manon.

The last girl, much like Bonnie, was reluctant to get out of bed, but for different reasons. It was her first day at her new school. She didn't have the school uniform yet, so it would be even more awkward. Sarah knew her dad was a sweetie and would let her stay home until she got the regulation skirt and blouse, but she just felt strongly that it had to start, it being her New Life. It indeed was the end of the beginning for her, and now she just had to throw herself into her new routine as soon as possible. Still, such a go-getter attitude didn't erase the fact that she felt like heck this morning. Part of it was the bad dreams she had. Nightmares about snakes, fire, strange women chanting in front of flames. It had gotten so bad that she woke up in the middle of the night and grabbed her mother's picture to her chest. She guessed this all had to be expected. Anxiety, being the "new kid". The bum with the snake didn't help either. She still remembered the garbage bag sitting out on the lawn, its lumpy contents being the dead serpent. She regretted the death of the animal. It couldn't help what it was. It wasn't evil...wasn't good, either. It just was. It looked pathetic lying there on the floor, mortally wounded. The scars on her wrists itched. A knock on her door. Dad came in, an apron tied around his waist, a tray of hearty eggs and toast in his hands. "Rise and shine, Sarah! Brand new day!"

*** *** ***

Dad's car pulled up in front of St. Benedict's. Sarah looked warily out onto the campus.

"You could wait, you know...just until you got a school uniform--you don't *have* to go now..."

"I can't stay home and watch daytime tv for the rest of my life..." Sarah answered, thinking back not to the last two days but to the period of time she spent at home after "the incident".

"Why not? I could..."

Sarah wished she could share her father's sense of humor, but the truth was she was scared to death and just wanted to leap out of the car before she lost nerve and asked her dad to drive her home.

"I just want to get started and get it over with..."

"Well, you look good, good luck...Jenny'll pick you up..."

Sarah got out and closed the car door behind her.

"I'll walk..."

The words just flew out of her mouth, she hoped dad didn't think she was angry at Jenny. Might have been nice, a familiar face to greet her after a day in Heck. Why did she say that?

"You sure?"

No, I'm not sure, maybe--

"Yes."

Ooohhkay, Sarah thought, I guess I am walking home alone through a strange neighborhood tonight. Greaaaat idea! Maybe run into her friend the homicidal snake-handling drifter. Or even weirder...

Sarah hoped she didn't look too much like the scared neophyte walking through the St. Benedict campus, books clutched to her chest, eyes darting from side-to-side as she absorbed her surroundings--but she knew she did. Her street clothes stuck out like a sore thumb in the sea of dark blazers and vests. She would have given anything for a friend right now, or at least a friendly student willing to give her a tour, give her the rundown of the cliques and places to hang out, people to avoid.

A big crucifix hanging on the side of a building caught her eye. She was never a big religious person, though it might have come handy during certain difficult periods of her life. Part of it was a fear, a stupid, silly fear, that God would not like her for some reason. For some reason--like maybe she could do things that God didn't approve of, things that some might say came from a different place. She didn't mean to do those things. She wasn't even sure if she really did them. Things like making a cup fly off a table. Visions. Premonitions. The closest thing Christianity had to address things like that were exorcists, but funny, she didn't feel exactly like Linda Blair. Still, it'd be nice to have some sort of spiritual center to her life, a reassurance that she wasn't on the Highway to Hell. Ha, she thought, good luck finding that at a parochial high-school. Hellooooo prayer meets and bingo...

*** *** ***

They had a name for the three girls. When the three girls passed by in the hall, it was like the parting of the Red Sea, students just got the heck out of their way and tried to avoid eye-contact. Nancy liked that just fine, let them be scared. She strode past them all with an air of defiance, her friends at either side of her. Bonnie's head was buried in her Witches Almanac, she pretended not to notice the stares but they never failed to hurt her. Rochelle, much like the other students they passed, avoided eye-contact and tried to look cool, but it came off a little sheepish.

"All the good people...all the good people...they don't don't know about me...they don't know about me..."

Three boys in particular reacted to the girls as they walked by, and with good reason--they were Chris Hooker and his two friends, Trey and Mitt.

"Hey, scary bitch alert," Trey announced.

"Oh! I thought it was Satan," Mitt said in mock horror.

Chris, however, just poked around in his locker and just looked at them soundlessly as his two buddies began to pray to God for protection.

The look Nancy shot back at them could have melted steel.

They had a name for these three girls, and though it was used in jest and derision Chris held a conviction in his chest that it was probably true. The reoccurring crabs he suffered ever since he dumped Nancy attested to *that*.

*** *** ***

The girls went to their lockers. Bonnie lifted her head just a little out of her book, enough to address her friends.

"The Almanac says today will bring the arrival of something," she said hopefully.

"Yeah, wonderful," Nancy said, shoving her backpack into the locker, "I'm getting my RAG..."

Bonnie continued, undaunted.

"A new wholeness, and with it a new balance...earth, air, fire water, maybe it's our Fourth..."

Not this crap again, Nancy thought, tugging the black noose she kept in her locker.

"We don't NEED a Fourth..."

"Nancy, we need someone to call the corners: north, south, east and west."

Rochelle looked up from some class notes and said casually,

"Four would make a circle..."

Nancy, definitely irritated by the direction this little discussion was heading, motioned towards a burly female security guard and scrunched up her face in a wicked smile.

"Maybe *she* can be our Fourth..."

The girls giggled.

"I *love* a woman in uniform," Nancy laughed, and the three went to class.

*** *** ***

Sarah's first class that morning was French. Good, she was in advanced French in her old school, at least she would know the subject and not be a total spaz.

"Bonjour class!" the teacher said, finishing a sentence on the board.

Si vous aviez faites vos devoirs, vous comprandriez: Sarah knew instantly what that meant, if you did the homework, you'd understand. Next, the teacher said he hoped everybody had a good weekend, and singled out one student, Mitt, who was joking around with his friends Trey and Chris. Sarah paused at Chris. Hmmm, he was kind of cute.

"Monsieur Roger, votre weekend: c'est bien aussi?"

Mitt's goofy face looked like someone was speaking Martian to him.

"Uh...tres bien...mon-sewer..."

The class laughed; Sarah felt uncomfortable at the way the boys mocked the teacher, cute guy among them or no. Geez, what jerks!

"Que ce faite, votre weekend...vous allez a la plage, concert de rock...cherchez la femme?"

Roger's face looked even more bewildered. Chris scribbled something on his notebook: did you go out with a girl? Immediately things began to register for Mitt.

"Oh, you mean did I get *laid*?"

"En francais, Monsieur Roger, en francais..." the teacher playfully reproached him.

"Um, oui...beaucoup de...beaucoup de laid."

This got even a bigger charge out of the class. Sarah couldn't hold herself any longer, and muttered "what a jerk" in French under her breath. The teacher's face brightened up at her remark, and his was not the only attention she garnered...Chris Hooker suddenly noticed the ravishing brunette as well.

Mitt was less pleased.

"What's that snail-trail saying about me?"

The teacher simply smiled and pointed to the phrase on the board.
Si vous aviez faites vos devoirs, vous comprandriez

"Yeah, this is L.A., we should be learning Mexican, or something...

Sarah shrunk from the attention, from the praise of her teacher and the scrutiny of the class. She didn't like to be singled out. She didn't like to feel different, probably because she understood just how different she was, how different...just block it out, ignore it. And the class soon went on to other butcherings of the French language. But as Sarah slowly twirled the point of her pencil onto her desk, another pair of eyes fell upon her. Bonnie had a intuitive sense just then to watch the girl, to keep her sight on her, and good thing she did--Sarah removed her hand from the pencil and made it somehow continue to twirl. Bonnie's pupils widened. This was the first real bit of "magic" see had seen since her and the others started the whole witch thing! This was it! This was the Fourth!

The pencil lead slowly, quietly grounded into Sarah's desk. Her entire attention was focused on it. She might have gone on indefinitely but Bonnie let out a tiny gasp of air.

The two girls met each other's gaze for a split second. The pencil fell over and rolled off the desk.

Sarah pretended nothing happened, she looked away nervously and back to her book. But she was shaken.

*** *** ***

Bonnie made the whispery announcement to Nancy and Bonnie at Bio class.

"She's here..."

"She *who*?" Nancy asked, her face creasing in puzzlement.

"Someone to be the Fourth, she's the one..."

A small fear caught Nancy in the gut, but she expressed it in humor, placing her hand on Bonnie's forehead.

"Are you *feeling* okay?"

Meanwhile, Sarah asked the nun about the lab groups, and headed to the first group she found. The three girls seemed okay, the middle one looked a little wild, but she thought they'd be fine. She put on her friendliest face.

"Hi, do you guys mind if I sit with you, because I have to find a lap group..."

They just looked at her. Well, the middle girl did more than *look*, she sorta flashed an expression like "get lost, scram, go to hell". The response totally shocked Sarah, and she just blinked.

"Okay..."

Then she left. Bonnie looked after her in alarm.

"No, y-you can sit here..." But her voice was so weak, so low and without authority, Sarah never heard her.

Bonnie's heart dropped: she knew in her heart that this was the one, the Fourth, their only chance to really make Manon listen, and they blew it! Rochelle glared at Nancy as well.

"Happy?" Bonnie breathed in a rare show of dissent.

Ugh, Nancy hated this! What was the big deal? Surely that mousy girl wasn't a fourth of anything, c'mon!

"What?" Nancy exclaimed innocently, but even she could not deny that for a few moments she felt it too, felt the four elements coming together.

*** *** ***

Now Sarah really wished that she would have let Jenny pick her up! She was beyond miserable. School back in San Francisco had its rough spots, but never had she encountered girls so mean as this, for no good reason at all. She hated this school, she felt totally alone and alien and wished she never woken up that morning.

She was so lost in her misery that she never noticed Chris Hooker sneaking up on her.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi..."

"You're Sarah, right?"

"Yeah..."

"I'm Chris...I just wanted to apologize for those guys in French--they're assholes."

Sarah felt attracted to him all right, but she wasn't going to let him off the hook that easy.

"Well, you know what they say: you are what you hang with..."

"Right," Chris said, blissfully ignorant of the diss until something clicked..."Wait: you just called me an asshole?"

Sarah's face broke out in a smile, the first she had since she stepped foot on this campus.

Chris smiled roguishly at her: these smart-tongued, intellectual girls, they always *did* turn him on...

"You did, didn't you?"

"I'm sorry, my defenses are up: people here have been *very* rude to me..."

Chris looked concerned.

"Oh *really*? Who else?"

Sarah quickly looked past him for a second and back.

"Those three girls...look behind you..."

Her heart froze as he turned all the way around to get a glimpse...last thing she needed was to get these girls more angry at her (though why they were in the first place was beyond her).

"*Don't* stare..."

Chris did a mock stretch and turned his head.

"Slick..." Sarah laughed.

The devil-may-care expression on Chris's face dropped at the sight of Nancy, Bonnie, and Rochelle. They sat under a large mural of Our Lady Of Guadalupe, the three of them glaring at him and Sarah, looking surly.

"Oh, shit...it's The Bitches of Eastwick"..."

Sarah didn't quite get the reference.

"What?"

"Whatever you do, stay away from them..."

Hm, she knew these girls were rude but they didn't exactly seem like the faces on Wanted posters...

"Why?"

"Well, you see the girl on the right," Chris said, motioning at Nancy, "she's a major *slut*...I don't know from experience or anything... And the one in the middle, she's got these...burn scars...all over her body--I haven't seen them but friends of mine have. Anyway they're---nah, never mind..."

"What? What..."

Chris leaned in and looked serious.

"They're *witches*!"

Okay, this was sort of disappointing...sounded like a fairy-tale you tell a youngster to put them to sleep and eat their vegetables...

"Witches?" Sarah asked in disbelief.

Chris looked away.

"Well, that's what people say..."

He changed the subject...it was time to go into what he was really there for...

"So, what're you doing after school today?"

Sarah's heart skipped a beat. No wonder she shoo-shooed Jenny from picking her up. Great!

"Nothing, I guess," she answered flirtatiously

"Really?"

"Really!"

He looked away again.

"I'm *busy*...football practice. Want to come watch?"

Geez, this school was full of jerks, Sarah thought. Yet she really liked him.

"Hmm, football practice...that's soooo tempting!" she said sarcastically, hoping it didn't sound so sarcastic he would want to stop seeing her.

He flashed her another of his devastating smiles as he left...yeah, he was a jerk, it was pathetic, but she really really liked him. Maybe it was the vulnerability of being new in town, she didn't know...she just knew that she liked him, that her life was suddenly filled with an intriguing new reason to keep going to school, and if that kept her attendance high, what was the harm?

Chris Hooker likes me, hot damn, she thought.

Better still, when she looked up, the girls were gone. The...*witches*. Hm. She didn't think anything more about that, it was probably what guys called girls they didn't like since time immemorial. Besides: if *anybody* was a witch around here, it'd have to be...