The Craft: The Book of The Movie Chapter 8: The Craft Pt 8: It's Working!, a craft fanfic

The Craft: Book of the Movie

Chapter 8: It's Working!

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It struck Chris Hooker like a bat to the back of the head–sudden and near-fatal. The poor boy was in love.

Bang-bang-bang!

The French teacher stopped his rapping onhis coffee mug and admonished Chris with a pedantic, heavily-accented voice:

"Regardez la page, Monsieur Hook-aire!"

Why didn't the star football player realize it before–how unearthly beautiful Sarah Bailey was! And he was bone-headed enough to trade barbs with the girl, to make her...hate him? Surely he hadn't been so stupid as to do that. Did he do that? It was hard to remember. It was hard to remember a life Before.

Sarah had been purposely ignoring him the whole class..afraid to look in his direction, afraid he would see her looking at him and feel superior, give her that same old poop-eating evil grin like always did those horrid days after he had lied about her to the school. Maybe he would notice the way she fixed her long light-brown locks extra-neat that morning, with a child's barrette tucked demurely in her hair; maybe he would notice the mascara. He would notice...and he would feel Big, superior, so very worthy to have prompted this poor wretch to actually try to fix herself up.

But out of the corner of her eye she caught him looking. Did she really catch him looking?

Sarah buried her nose in her Deuxieme Livre.

"Do you think it's working?" Bonnie nervously whispered, fidgeting with her pen.

"I don't know...I-I think he just looked at me, did he look at me? Is he looking?"

"Not right now...but he just did!"

"It's so weird!" Sarah answered in a barely audible voice, breathing out the words.

"I know...now I know he's looking!"

"He's looking?"

"Yes!"

Sarah's heart tightened in excitement.

"Shhh..." she warned her friend in a voice a little too loud itself, worrying that their heated little discussion might attract the attention of the teacher. Hell, she had Chris's attention all right.

Or was it all a coincidence, like the butterflies?

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The willowy brunette could barely contain her ecstasy–it was written all over her broadly grinning face, the way her eyes narrowed in mischief as she asked Bonnie,

"Is he still back there?" She motioned with her head towards the fool who was staring desperately at her about ten feet away. The two girls were clutching their school books in their hands and headed, for all places, Mass.

"Ye-ep!" the other girl smiled from behind her slightly-greasy strands of hair, pulling her books against her chest tighter. Bonnie held no jealousy towards Sarah regarding Chris–she was happy for her, in fact. But much more than that–she was simply jazzed that any of the magick was working at all...after so many months of "drill sergeant" Nancy lecturing to them about the "right" way to invoke, putting the girls through the paces over and over again with exhausting rituals that seemed to yield nothing! Finally! Maybe Manon was listening to them, now...

Chris was now only inches away.

"Sarah!"

It was good to be Queen.

"Yeah?" she replied as if she didn't give a shit, as if he was a worm. So quickly the tables turn!

Face-to-face with the Goddess, the jock lost his nerve, his mind blank (or rather, blanker than it had been ever since he got "hit" with that bat.). He put his finger up to his mouth stupidly.

"N-never mind," he stuttered, making an awkward 180 and resuming his position behind the Queen and her Lady-in Waiting.

Bonnie was floored. In all the years she had known Mr. Hooker (which included, unfortunately, elementary school), he was never at a loss for words...or ever appeared to be such a complete dork. This, in her mind, cinched it:

"It's working!" Bonnie laughed.

"Either that or he's gone completely crazy," the other girl answered glibly. At that moment she could feel him come up again, almost comprehend the warmth of his body–

"Y-you hate me, right?" Chris asked in all wide-eyed sincerity.

For a split-second Sarah processed all the interactions she had with the boy since she first arrived at St. Benedict's. French class. Telling her about the "Bitches of Eastwick". Football practice. Their first and only date. And then–

"No," she replied nonchalantly.

"You don't?"

"No."

"Because you see, when you're a guy–and I am–people expect things. I mean...I know I said some nasty things about you..."

Bonnie silently walked up ahead of them; so sensitive to any sort of conflict and always out to avoid it.

Sarah let out a luxurious sigh at Chris' words.

"Did you tell your friends?"

"What?"

The two descended the staircase that led to the basement-level church, a string of flowers and ivy hanging from a fence right above Sarah's head like a crown.

"That you're a lying sack of shit."

The boy scratched his ear foolishly.

"Uh, no..." His expression brightened. "B-but I will! Um...I'll tell them tomorrow, I'll tell the truth..."

Sarah had to bite her lip not to explode in complete happiness. She fought to hold her head high and curb her grin.

"Good," she said elegantly, as the bell tolled.

"Uh–can I sit with you in mass?" he asked hopefully.

This is too much, the girl thought, catching up with Bonnie and nearly laughing in her neck.

"Sure."

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Sarah and Bonnie badly stifled laughs all the way into the rectory, the light of the novena candles casting shadows upon their ebullient expressions.

"Watch this," the lighter-haired girl said to her companion. She handed her books to Chris, who was as tame and apparently smart as a trained puppy. "Could you carry this for me? They're really heavy..."

"Yeah," Chris robotically replied.

"And Bonnie's too–she has a bad back."

Bonnie plopped her books on top of Sarah's and posed in scoliotic agony.

Sarah then impulsively took the bag off her shoulder and hung it around the boy's neck like a horsefeeder. Then the two young women skipped ahead of him and gleefully chuckled behind their hands. It wasn't just the thrill of laying low such an insufferable tyrant as Chris had been. It was something more...it was...the first stirrings...of Power.

MeanwhileMitt and the rest of the Hooker entourage had been witnessing the emasculation of their friend in abject horror.

"Hey Chris,"Mitt called out across the pews, "can you hold my jock for me? It's kinda heavy."

Now, Mitt was no sentimental flower, but the way his buddy looked back at him with these two expressionless doll eyes cut him to the quick. More than that, it creeped the shit out of him.

"What are you, Stepford Boy?"Mitt did an impromptu Boris Karloff/shambling zombie routine but it failed to stir the least bit of emotion or even recognition in his friend.

"Sit," Sarah ordered playfully. And the boy sat. She rewarded him with a concerned touch on his wrist. "Pay attention," she said as if she was one of the teaching nuns–but her thoughts were far from Holy. Fleeting images of the two making out crossed her mind, and what interesting applications such a hold over the lad might yield–

And as the girl giggled like a 12-year old and basked in the glow of the complete subservience of the boy she always wanted (or rather, always wanted as of this year), she remained blissfully ignorant of the fact that Mitt's was not the only pair of deeply concerned eyes watching the spectacle that was unfolding amidst the statues and flowers and incense.

"Her spell is working," Rochelle excitedly whispered in Nancy's ear. "Check it out, her spell is working!"

Nancy's jaw set tightly as she pretended to be too engrossed in her book of Kabbalah to notice.

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Another meeting of the St. Benedict's Witch Club and Knitting Circle was in order, and it was Bonnie's turn to host. A bookcase full of beautiful porcelain dolls and well-loved Cabbage Patch Kids stared down blankly at the crew as they lounged on pillows before the TV and horsed around. Actually, only Sarah, Rochelle, and Bonnie seemed to be grooving with it–Nancy detached herself subtly from the others, still apparently plugging away at that pesky Kabbalah. The glow from the screen flared eerily off of the petite goth's black PVC pants as Bonnie tried to toss popcorn in Sarah's mouth.

"It's hard, you know," Bonnie explained after missing.

'Chelle took a drag from her cigarette. "You're like, you're like two feet away from each other!" She then groaned as Nancy reached across her body to snag the ashtray. "Uggh!"

"I'm not that heavy," Nancy answered with a grin, suddenly getting pulled back into the energy of the group.

"Yeah–you're light as a feather," drag-puff-puff, "during deep space travel!"

"I am, actually..."

"Did you guys ever play that game?" Sarah suddenly asked. "Light as a feather, stiff as a board?"

And after the gang answered in the negative:

"One girl lays down, and you surround her, and you put your fingers underneath..." the light-haired brunette wiggled her index and middle finger together. This brought a wicked thought from Nancy, who mimicked the hand expression.

"You put your finger where?" she asked with a wicked grin.

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How do I get into these things, Rochelle wondered, as she closed her eyes and folded her arms before her. It's because I'm black, isn't it? Sigh!

Rochelle was going to be the focal point of Sarah's childhood game "Light As A Feather, Stiff As A Board". She lay on the wood floor as the girls knelt beside her–Sarah and Bonnie on one side, Nancy on the other–with their index and middle fingers underneath her body. Nancy had been the one to suggest the candlelight–freakin' Nancy, it always had to be a ritual for her!

"Now you have to imagine that she's incredibly light," Sarah explained, "like she was made out of air.."

It was time for Bonnie to get cheeky. She had actually washed her hair for this little getogether and put it partially up–and didn't look half bad. Must have been Sarah's spell-workin' mojo rubbing off of her. Or maybe just the simple fact that now she had a reason to hope.

"Now, is that her whole body or just her head?"

"Cow!" 'Chelle shot back.

"Guys, c'mon, concentrate–or it's not going to work."

Properly chastened, the other three girls drew breaths of concentration and tried to appear serious. But Nancy just couldn't help it...

"I think I just sprained my finger," she said with her patented Downs 2000-watt smile.

"Guys, focus!" Sarah admonished above the peals of laughter. "C'mon you guys, c'mon, ready? Light as a feather, stiff as a board..." She and Bonnie and Nancy shut their eyes and began in unison:

Light as a feather, stiff as a board.

And their hands started to slowly rise, along with Rochelle's prone body. But they hardly paused a second to acknowledge the feat, they just kept going:

Light as a feather, stiff as a board.

And slowly, unconsciously, Sarah felt her fingers slip away from under her friend. And she opened her eyes. And Rochelle was still there, eye-level to the astonished girl.

"Holy shit," she said in a tiny voice.

Bonnie, who, along with Nancy, had also let go of Rochelle, couldn't even speak, her teeth just clacked. Nancy's big ice-blue eyes swelled in her head as she placed her hands over her mouth and let out a low guttural gasp.

The girl was floating in mid-air!

But Rochelle, who by this time was one yawn away from falling asleep, was clueless.

"You guys, it's not working." Then she made the mistake of opening her eyes and glancing to her left. "Whooooa!" Her eyes flitted from side to side; she was too afraid to move any other part of her body.

"Shut-up, or you're going to fall!" Sarah said automatically, instinctually understanding the arcane dynamics of this bizarre event.

"W-who's got the instructions!"

"Shhh–keep concentrating..."

"Amazing!" Bonnie exclaimed.

As if on cue, her mom entered the room after a perfunctory knock.

"Hi, got clean towels for everyone..."

Rochelle dropped to the floor before the mother could see anything, though the heavy thump followed by laughter and "oh my poor butt!" still alarmed the older woman.

"What's going on in here? Are you getting high?"

Bonnie ran to grab the towels and whisk Mommy away.

Getting high? Oh, she had no idea...