No new chapter for awhile. I have a super busy weekend and super busy week following it, so I won't get time. Hope you enjoy this chapter, and again, thanks to anyone who reviewed. I love you! lol


"Don't you think we should at least call someone to check up on her?"

"Unless you want someone to fall victim to whatever witch craft she is stirring up, no." Mark replied sternly, giving his wife a cold glare. Her warm brown eyes became misty, and she turned away. She stared into the orange horizon that was dotted with pink clouds, and when it became too vast for her to comprehend, she focused on a silhouetted palm tree, watching as the leaves blew in the direction of the soft, sweetly scented wind.

"I just wish…" she began, her voice broken. She'd tried to bring up this topic many times on the trip. She couldn't convince her hard headed husband of anything, and she believed that if he had only been just a little bit more attentive of his daughter that she wouldn't have ended up the way she did.

"Not this again Judy, you know as well as I do that there's nothing we can do for her."

"But you've been saying that for years Mark!" she ran a hand through her silky red hair.

Mark placed his big hands on her thin white shoulders and heaved a sigh.

"Do you remember what happened a week after the funeral?"

Here we go again, thought Judy. She'd heard this story a million times, countless times it had fooled her. She'd believed him, but not anymore. It just wasn't in their genes to lose it like her daughter had.

"You found her with some sort of spell book and Lindsey's hair pin, trying to bring her back to life." Judy muttered in irritation.

"I tried to reason with her Judy, but she never would speak to me. Did you ever look in her eyes? They were empty, soulless. She's sold her soul to the devil darling."

Judy wasn't raised up as superstitious as her husband had been. His family believed in ghosts and spirits, and while Judy didn't deny their existence, she wasn't about to believe they were as common as her husband tried to say they were. If something dropped off of his desk at work, it was an ancestor who was angry with him. If he got sick, a demon was trying to possess him.

Finding his daughter with some sort of witch's book, even if she was only seven, had repulsed him. He'd had an aversion to her ever since. He feared she would send out something to possess them or create a potion to steal their souls. Her rude behavior only seemed to prove this further.

Judy had believed him, but the more time she spent away from her daughter, the more she thought of her. The more she thought of how Angie's foul attitude was the result of being spoiled rotten, not to mention losing her older sister at such a young age. Judy realized it was a perfectly normal reaction of her daughter to use any means she could to get her sister back.

But Judy also knew something else. She knew it was far too late to reverse the damage they had done to her by ignoring and avoiding her for years. Angie had only grown steadily worse. Not once had Angie cried in front of them, not even at her own sister's funeral. They weren't close before her sister's death; she had no relationship to recover with Angie. There was no base or foundation. Judy feared more than anything that she would not be able to save her daughter, not with words or money, and that her daughter would continue down the endless spiral of insanity all alone.

"She has just a few more years of high school, and she'll be out of our hands. She can go on doing what she wants; don't you think she'd be happier that way?"

Judy could only nod; because that was the best she would get out of Mark. If Mark had gotten his way, Angie would be in an asylum by now, or he would've called in a priest to exorcise her. He was never going to try to understand his daughter, and Judy had finally come to accept this.


Angie's hair swished back and forth as she approached the school building. A group of girls huddled in a circle, sharing the latest gossip, topic: the most hated girl in the school building. A blond known as Trish was indulging the group with rude complaints about who she had claimed was her best friend only a week ago.

"I swear, that bitch is going to get it. Some girl is going to wind up smacking her in the face." Trish said, her eyes growing wide and her mouth twisting into a frown as she nodded furiously.

"Seriously, have you ever heard her talk about Cherry Valance? She hates that girl and she hasn't even done anything to her!" another girl fumed.

"Shut it, she's coming." Trish warned in a hushed, nervous tone. The group stopped its chatter. Trish began trying out her smile, hoping that it was convincing.

Angie approached, smiling sadistically at the girls whose white teeth gleamed under the morning sun. Angie knew none of them really liked her, but she was unaware that they all met up in the morning and talked bad about her. Had Angie known, she wouldn't have cared really. I may add that Angie deserved any criticism she got.

"Hey Angie! Where were you Friday?"

"Taking care of business." Angie stated, giving every girl a tight lipped smile and a nod. She knew how to play the part, how to act like she was friendly, but only when she felt like it. "Wow, Kathy, I thought your outfit was ugly Wednesday, but you've outdone it."

No one was surprised at Angie's sudden outburst. She insulted someone every morning, and lately, she seemed to enjoy picking on the new girl. She was from Canada, as a result, she dressed a bit differently. There was no need to point it out. Angie merely snickered as the girl looked down in horror and rushed away.

No one said a word to her either. Angie gets away with everything.

"Anyway, are you coming to class with me or not?"

"Oh sure Trish, you won't mind letting me copy Friday's work will you?" It was not a question, but a demand. Trish avoided looking at Angie's face as she replied a short, squeaky 'nope'.

Angie never had to try hard in school. She passed every class with ease. Whether it was her wit and intellect or her bullying, no one knew. Everyone did know, however, that several times she had paid to get out of punishment. Angie had done some pretty mean things, and not once had she gone to detention for them. It raises the question if she could cheat the law, if she needed to do so.

Lunch was what Angie considered to be her 'favorite subject'. It was a time when she would belittle her friends, often commenting on what they ate.

"Beans? That's disgusting Trish. Do you want gas when you go on a date?"

Trish rolled her eyes as a chorus of soft giggles followed. They all laughed at her because they knew that if they didn't they'd be the next target.

"Oh yes, and Carmen, if you're going to wear fake lashes, get some that look a bit more realistic."

Carmen bit her lip and peered down at her tray that held solely an apple, ignoring the chuckles that sounded around her. All of the girls hated lunch because of Angie, and she was sure that once Angie was gone for a few moments that she could convince them to kick her out of their table. She had to. She was going to start eating lunch elsewhere like the greasers did if Angie wasn't dealt with soon.

Unfortunately, speak of Angie and she appears. Carmen would not get a chance to talk to the girls for the rest of the day.

In her last class Angie was partnered up with Trish for a research assignment. They'd been pretending to read in the library when Angie spotted a certain red head.

"I swear, she just thinks she's it doesn't she?"

"Cherry's nice, you should get to know her."

Angie ignored this. The possibility of Cherry being nice was slim. If she was nice, pretty, and smart, she was too perfect and must've been created by some mad scientist, or that was what Angie reasoned anyway. Besides, if she was such a good girl, she wouldn't be dating Bob. Angie knew how often he got boozed up – he often attended her parties.

When the final bell rang, signaling the end of the day, Angie tossed her books in her locker and rushed out. She didn't bother waiting for Maria as she usually did. She took too much time smooching with her boyfriend, and Angie had better things to do than to tap her foot and grind her teeth with impatience for twenty minutes.

Yes, he should be awake by now, she thought, and he was going to fall madly in love with her whether he liked it or not.