one
The classroom smelled like a Sephora. Instead of paying attention to Professor Norma’s snoozer of a lecture on landforms, the caged animal-lights were swiping fruit-flavored gloss across their lips and rubbing floral-scented salves into their hands--all in anticipation of that final gong. Once struck, Typical Topics would be over, and the most anticipated weekend of the year (since last month’s dance with the Allendale boys) would finally begin.
Sadie gazed beyond the metal-framed windows. Those smoke-gray clouds were still hovering. Oppressive and suffocating, they loomed above the private grounds of the Charm House boarding school like an overbearing parent, there to put a damper on her plans and, even worse, her new hairstyle. Hair that Sadie spent most of the day admiring in the reflection of her dead laptop screen.
She’d meant to charge her computer the night before. Really. But Claw Spa, the new beauty salon Sadie was opening with her pack mates, had become a major attention suck. Saturday morning was fully booked, and they were wildly unprepared.
Lindsey, tiger-light and queen of the claws, had to set up a manicure table. Taylor, chameleon-light and color expert, needed a dyeing station. Amy, snake-light and scaly skin specialist, had to blend her oil treatments. And Sadie, lion-light with superhuman strength and a dry blond mane, was stuck rearranging furniture--a bummer, but not a surprise.
They had finished setting up around midnight. While Lindsey, Taylor, and Amy applauded their work, Sadie, now surrounded by mirrors, fixated on her unruly hair. Gathering it in a bristly bundle, she tried twisting it into something elegant at the nape of her neck. Tying straw into a bow would have been easier. “I should just shave it off.”
“Funny,” Taylor said as she worked her short pink layers into spikes. “I’ve been thinking about all of that”--she waved her hand in the general vicinity of Sadie’s head--“and I have an idea. Trust me.”
“You’ve been thinking about it?” How long had Taylor been contemplating Sadie’s look? “Is it that bad?” Her stomach dipped as she remembered the girls at her old school, how they called her Hairy Poppins. And Taylor’s whole “trust me” thing? That was an elephant-sized ask.
Only weeks earlier, Taylor had secretly terrorized the animal-lights--and worse, her own pack mates. Her plan was to scare the girls (mostly Lindsey) so they would stop sneaking out to meet the boys. If the animal-lights were discovered, the evil doctors at Institute of Behavioral Science would lock them in cages on the thirteenth floor, just like they did with Kate, and experiment on them 24/7. So Taylor’s intention was to keep them safe. But really, T? Did you have to turn invisible, scratch venom into our bodies to make us sleep, then carve the number 13 into our skin? You couldn’t think of any other way to keep us safe from IBS? Nothing?
Apparently, she couldn’t. And technically, that was fine. Taylor meant well and the Pack forgave her. But “trust”? Yeah, that was going to take a while.
“Sadie, I’m not saying your frizzy vibe is brutal,” she continued. “I’m just--”
“Then I’ll say it,” Lindsey interrupted, her emerald-green eyes fierce and focused. “Sadie Lady, we love you, but your frizzy vibe is brutal.”
“Brutal is a little harsh,” Amy said. “Brittle is more appropriate.” Her sympathetic smile revealed one fang on either side of her mouth. “Why don’t I heat some orange and clove oil and--”
“We can give you a mane-over!” Taylor bellowed.
“Purrrfect,” Lindsey said. “I’ll do her claws!”
Two hours later, Sadie was running the sharp points of her gold nails through flat-ironed, deep-conditioned blond hair that faded to black.
“Wow, you look sixteen!” Amy gushed.
“Yeah, the ombré technique is a total mane-changer,” Taylor said. “And the dark tips hide your split ends.”
“You actually look pretty!” Lindsey added.
“Actually?”
“Not that you didn’t look pretty before. You did. On the inside. But now you’re pretty on the outside, too.”
Sadie was too excited about her mane-over to be offended. Before heading to bed, Taylor gave her a bottle of dry shampoo and strict instructions not to get her hair wet or it would frizz again. Which was why Sadie was currently admiring her reflection in a dead laptop screen and praying the rain away instead of listening to--
“Miss Samson!” Professor Norma shouted, or maybe it just sounded like a shout because of Sadie’s extra-sensitive hearing. “Are you paying attention?”
Chairs creaked as everyone turned.
“Uh . . .” Sadie’s cheeks warmed. “You were talking about animal migration.”
“Correct. I was talking about animal migration. Twenty minutes ago . . .”
The hyena-lights giggled. Jealous of the Pack’s popularity, they feasted on their misfortunes.
“Now I’m asking our Charm Club leaders for status reports, and since you’re one of those leaders, why don’t you update us on your progress.”
Lindsey, Taylor, and Amy glared at Sadie, silently reminding her not to divulge their secret. As if she needed a reminder. The Charm Club project was worth 50 percent of their Typical Topics grade. And with her slipping GPA, Sadie was counting on a high score to bring up her average. If word got out that their club, the Claw Spa, was charging for treatments, they’d fail. Granted, the Pack wasn’t asking for money. Just that customers cover the Pack’s chores and hand over their desserts whenever asked. This seemed like a reasonable request, considering Claw Spa was the only club providing an essential service. But try telling that to a professor preaching a free-flowing exchange of ideas and teamwork.
“Our progress?” Sadie lowered the screen on her laptop. “Um, last night we set up the spa in our dorm rooms, and it opens tomorrow. That’s about it.”
Professor Norma lowered her glasses, which were attached to a beaded string that held them around her neck, against her navy cardigan. Her small features were tight, and her makeup-free skin was the color of Silly Putty. She was probably a terrible joke-teller. “Can you share your most positive experience so far?”
Sadie reached for the glossy tips of her hair and sat up a little taller. “Um, the Allendale football game is tomorrow night, and Family Day is Sunday, so we’re booked solid, which is cool.”
“Sounds promising.” The professor searched Sadie’s eyes like hiding places. “And your most challenging experience?”
“Fitting everyone in, I guess. Demand is pretty high.”
“Well, you are offering a free service.”
“Free?” Val yipped. “Ha!” She and the other hyena-lights had started a comedy club named Cackle. Ever since Professor Norma had said she thought the name was clever (cackle is the sound of a laugh, and it’s also the name for a group of hyenas), Val had been incredibly cocky.
Professor Norma folded her arms across her dangling glasses. “Is there a problem?”
“Only if you think doing someone else’s chores is a--”
Lindsey growled softly.
“Chores?” Professor Norma’s thin eyebrows arched.
Lindsey glowered at Val and...
