Perfectly Weird

By Amy Martin

Book 2 in The Perfects series.

Mean Girls + Freaky Friday + Sabrina, The Teenage Witch = The Perfects

High school senior Dani Maguire has it all—money, popularity, and a hot boyfriend. Her life is perfect...or it would be if she could shake the guilt she feels over dumping her childhood friends on her way to the top.

But when Dani wakes up in the body of her former friend Janey Douchette, her almost-perfect life gets turned upside-down. Not only is she stuck in a new body, but that body’s been kidnapped by a mysterious family with connections to both Dani and Janey. And when her kidnappers reveal long-held secrets that will impact Dani’s family and friends, Dani must figure out how to outwit her captors and deal with her weird new reality—and all its imperfections.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amy Martin
• Release date: Nov 23, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370426935

Amy Martin

Amy Martin wrote and illustrated her first book at the age of ten and gave it to her fourth grade teacher, who hopefully lost it in her house somewhere and didn't share it with anyone else.The first book she published as a grown-up, In Your Dreams,was a semi-finalist in the Young Adult category of the 2012 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award Competition. She has published four books in the In Your Dreams series, and she is also the author of The Perfects series.Amy lives with her husband and a ferocious attack tabby named Cleo. When not writing or reading, she can usually be found watching sports, drinking coffee, or indulging her crippling Twitter habit (and, sometimes, doing all three at once).

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Perfectly

Weird

Perfectly Weird

Copyright © 2017

Smashwords edition

Amy Martin

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, with express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Photo credit: pixabay.com (user: darksouls1)

Other books by Amy Martin:

In Your Dreams (4 book series)

The Perfects (4 book series)

Want to be the first to know about Amy Martin’s new releases? Follow her on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, check out her website at www.theamymartin.com, or sign up for her mailing list.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

About the Author

Chapter 1—

Monday, February 7

Two weeks ago, my biggest concerns in life were finding the perfect lip gloss and trying to pass calculus.

My days were filled with everything a girl could ask for—popular friends, rich parents, hot boyfriend, awesome wardrobe. Other than the calculus thing, my parents not really caring a whole lot about my life, and my relationship possibly ending over not going to the same college as my hot boyfriend, things were just about perfect.

Then somebody kidnapped me, and my perfect life kind of came to a screeching halt.

Once I managed to get back home, I couldn’t remember anything. For days, I’ve had no idea where I was or what happened to me while I was gone.

But now, my memory’s back. And I have to tell my story to protect my family.

After a vigorous cheerleading practice spent working up a new routine, I drive home from school, park in our three-car garage, and head into the kitchen, where my mom is busy pulling covered platters of Chinese food from large paper bags and placing them on the counter.

Take-out Chinese? I say to her, my voice full of snark. Really?

Mom turns away from the counter and wipes her hands on a dishtowel. Hello, Mom, she mocks. How was your day?

I give her an exaggerated sigh. Hello, Mom. How was your day?

Fine. Thanks for asking. And how was your day?

Fine. Thanks for asking. I stroll over to the counter and lift the tinfoil off one of the platters, stealing a broccoli spear drenched in sauce.

Glad to hear it, Mom says, adding, And I thought you liked Chinese food?

I do. It’s just that when we invited the coven over for dinner, I thought you might cook something.

Mom laughs so hard she has to brace herself against the counter for support. Oh, Dani. You know I don’t cook, she says. Never have. Why would I start now?

I shrug. I don’t know. I thought maybe now that your secret’s out, you could use your magic to whip something up.

As if to emphasize how she won’t use her powers to conjure up a meal, Mom flicks her fingers at one of the trays. The aluminum foil cover flies off and wads itself into a ball at the edge of the counter.

The word coven probably gave it away, but my mother and I are witches, two members of the Clairvoix family who have apparently lived in the Ridgeview, Missouri, area for generations. This information about my heritage was news to me until a few days ago, and my mom wasn’t even the first one to tell me—my kidnappers filled me in on how I’m a witch and how I’ll come into my powers on my eighteenth birthday next month, although since my memory was fried until this morning, I’d been giving Mom all the credit for telling me first. Mom and I have probably connected more in the past few days than we have in years—I guess a good kidnapping has a way of bringing a family together—but the fact she’s been hiding my destiny from me my whole life, regardless of whether she was the first to tell me about it or not, is one thing I may not be able to get over for a while.

Go get changed, Mom says over her shoulder. The Lords will be here any minute now.

The Lords are Rachel Lord, her mom, and her Grandma Lorraine. Rachel turned eighteen last week and so she’s just coming into her powers. Like me, Rachel’s mom hid the whole witch thing from her, so I’m guessing she’s struggling with some of the same betrayal issues I am right now. Only in Rachel’s case, she found out about her witchy destiny just a few days before she turned eighteen, so she’s trying to learn how to use her powers after they’ve already developed. At least I’ve still got some time to get used to the idea.

On my way out of the kitchen, I stop at one of the drawers and pull out a bag of dog treats. I squeeze the bag a few times and the faint crinkling sound is enough to bring our black lab, Merlin, to the kitchen threshold from wherever he was in the house. He pants and barks, and I give him a bone-shaped treat along with a few scratches behind the ears.

Come on, Merlin. You can help me pick an outfit.

Merlin follows me up to my room, where he jumps onto my bed and promptly falls asleep on my maroon comforter rather than serving as my stylist. I head into my bathroom and take a quick shower to rinse off before stepping into my walk-in closet to change into a pair of jeans and a navy cashmere sweater. The doorbell rings just as I finish pulling on a pair of leather ankle boots.

I’ve got it, Mom, I yell after rushing out of my room. I gallop down the stairs and open the front door to find Rachel, her mom, her grandmother, and Ellie Stengel, who isn’t a Clairvoix but she’s Rachel’s best friend and has known about our secret life as witches for as long as Rachel and I have. She’s sort of been adopted as our coven record keeper, taking notes whenever we do major spells.

Hey, Rachel says, reaching out to give me a hug. Since Rachel and I just made up after years of hardly talking about anything but math problems, I’m so surprised I almost forget to put my arms around her. When she lets me go, Mrs. Lord reaches out to pat my shoulder, and Rachel’s grandma, who performed the spell that brought my memory back, steps into the entry and cuts right to the chase: When did it happen?

I started getting some more, like, memory flashes last night before I went to bed, Mrs. Grantham, I begin, but Rachel’s grandma reaches out to my arm before I can continue.

Please, dear. Call me Grandma Lorraine. I think we’ve been through enough since you’ve been back, and all you girls feel like surrogate granddaughters to me now.

I nod. Okay. Anyway, like I said, I started getting these memory flashes, and when I woke up this morning, everything was clear. I want to say more about what I now know but I realize I should wait until we’re all gathered in the dining room. My mom’s in the kitchen, I tell them, taking their coats.

We’ll help her get the food ready, Mrs. Lord says as she and Grandma Lorraine head off toward the kitchen. I hang up their coats and turn to take Rachel’s coat from her as well. Next to her, Ellie stands and stares at the floor.

Hey, Ellie, I try.

Dani, she says before returning her mouth to a tight line and marching off toward the kitchen.

I guess I should accept the fact that building back my friendship with Ellie might take a little longer than repairing things with Rachel did. While Rachel and I were never completely on the outs, at least not enough she wouldn’t say hi to me in the halls or wouldn’t help me with calculus homework whenever I asked, my sins against Ellie are bad enough for her to keep freezing me out.

And I haven’t even mentioned Janey Douchette, my other former friend who isn’t here tonight. Ever since Janey’s mom died when we were in seventh grade, Janey’s been a kind of a freak, dressing in all black or in worn-out clothes from secondhand shops or army surplus stores, and my popular friends and I have given her all kinds of hell throughout high school, both behind her back and to her face.

Little did any of us know Janey, Rachel, and I were distant Clairvoix cousins and Janey is the last direct descendant in the Clairvoix line, making her the most powerful witch in our coven. Unfortunately, like Rachel and I, no one told Janey about her destiny, either. And even more unfortunately, she got her hands on an old spell book and, without knowing what it was or what she was doing, cast a spell that accidentally sent my consciousness into her body, Rachel’s consciousness into my body, and Janey’s consciousness…somewhere and to someone who told her she and her mom were witches.

Given how badly Janey screwed up her spell, Grandma Lorraine believes Janey’s sort of a loose cannon and may have pissed off another coven. So, until the memory retrieval spell she used on me began to work and I could recall what happened to me, Grandma Lorraine put a spell on Janey that caused her to forget not only her own out-of-body experience, but also the fact she’s a witch.

I feel kind of weird leaving Janey out of this little dinner party considering she’s the leader of our coven and considering the story I’m going to tell is kind of all her fault. But, I’m new at this witch thing, so I guess I’ll leave the decisions to our coven’s oldest witch since she has a lot more experience than I do.

After Ellie’s brush-off, Rachel takes my arm and we walk together toward the dining room. Give her time, Rachel whispers in my ear.

Like a few centuries, maybe? I whisper back.

I hope not. Rachel’s warm brown eyes widen as she speaks. "Maybe just one century."

Awesome, I grumble

As we enter the dining room, Mom, Mrs. Lord, and Grandma Lorraine move about, placing bowls and platters of Chinese food on top of the lace tablecloth. Ellie enters from the kitchen with a crystal water pitcher, which my mom takes from her to fill the delicate goblets at each place setting. Knowing what my mom’s dinner parties usually look like, I force myself to hold back a laugh. Instead of women in dresses and pearls and men in blazers or upscale business-casual wear, this party is strictly girl-power and everyone but my mom, who’s wearing tailored twill slacks, is in jeans.

Sit wherever you’re comfortable, Mom says with a wave of her hand. Everyone defers to her as the hostess, and she pulls out the chair at the head of the table closest to the kitchen. Ellie and Rachel sit down on one side of the table, Mrs. Lord and Grandma Lorraine take the seats on the other side, and I’m left with the seat at the other head of the table near the entry to the living room. As we pass the food around and load our plates, Mom asks Rachel, how was your first day back at school? As yourself, I mean. Are you feeling okay?

Rachel nods as Mom’s naturally timed her question just as Rachel’s put a forkful of cashew chicken in her mouth. I notice she still has a few scratches on her face and a fading bruise on her cheek from the car accident that left her body a coma for nearly a week while her consciousness was stranded in my body. It was good, thanks, she says once she’s swallowed. I feel like my strength’s almost completely back. She looks over at me. And I never have to go to cheerleading practice and pretend to be Dani ever again, so that’s a plus.

I can imagine, Mom says, raising her eyebrows at me.

I’m still looking for a video of the routine from the game, I tell Rachel, referring to the night she impersonated me during the cheerleading squad’s basketball game halftime show. I want to see for myself how good it was. Luke couldn’t stop talking about how amazed he was you were able to pull off the routine with, like, almost no practice.

Even nearly a week later, I’m still wrestling with the fact Rachel spent several days living my life, doing my cheerleading routines, and kissing my boyfriend, Luke Nostrand, although he assured me they only kissed twice and one of those times was just for show after he found out Rachel was trapped in my body. I’m not jealous exactly, even though I’d been working really hard on that halftime routine and even though Luke has been my boyfriend for almost two years and hasn’t kissed anyone else in that time, at least as far as I know. Maybe I’m more sad than anything else, knowing there’s this teeny tiny part of my life I’m never going to get back. I was well aware of having a good life before I had to spend days in someone else’s body being held captive by strangers. Now that I’m back, I appreciate things about my life even more—most things, anyway.

If you track down some video, let me know, Rachel says about the cheerleading routine. I felt amazing doing it, but I’d still like to see what it looked like.

I’ll be sure to send it to you if I can find it, I say to a heavy eye roll from Ellie. Yep—centuries. It’s going to take centuries before she’ll warm up to me enough to have a civil conversation.

And I deserve it. I turned my back on her, Janey, and Rachel in favor of new friends and popularity. I straight-up called Ellie fat, and my new friends and I ran her and Janey down behind their backs—and sometimes, not behind their backs—for being all weird and artsy and poor. We probably would have run Rachel down, too, if not for the fact she’s one of the nicest people at school and sponsors so many fundraisers and food drives through the service club she’s practically a candidate for sainthood. Not to mention I’d be failing calculus right now without her help.

I still might fail calculus, even with her help.

And how was your first day back as you? Mrs. Lord asks me. Sounds like Rachel didn’t ruin your life while you were gone.

Ha, ha, Mom. Very funny, Rachel says, smirking, and Mrs. Lord gives her a smirk right back, followed by a warm smile. Even though I haven’t spent much time around them in the last few years, I’m remembering now how I always envied their easy, teasing banter, something I’ve never had with my mom.

It was…weird, I tell Mrs. Lord. Now that I remember everything, I think things at school are going to be kind of awkward from now on.

After I drop that little bit of news, everyone at the table frowns at me, especially Rachel and Ellie, who are probably wondering if whatever’s going to impact me at school will affect them, too.

And it will.

Grandma Lorraine reaches out and covers my right hand with her left. Maybe we should just get to the point of this gathering and you can tell us what you remember. Don’t hold anything back. We need to know everything if we are to know how to best help Janey and our coven if need be.

I nod. While I’m sure there are some intimate details about the missing days of my life this assembled group doesn’t need to know, the broad strokes should be enough for our coven to figure out our next steps together.

Well, I begin, I guess I should start with the day I disappeared. Janey wasn’t in homeroom, and Lexi, Alissa, and I went to Smiley Joe’s after school…and…and I met this guy…

Chapter 2—

Wednesday, January 26

I’m gathering books for my first and second period classes when Lexi Grayson comes up behind me and puts her hands over my eyes.

Good morning, she sings. Lexi’s always obnoxiously chipper first thing in the morning. How she does it is a total mystery.

Hey, Lex, I say as she drops her hands. Turning around, I take her in. She’s dressed in one of her favorite winter outfits: a forest green mini sweater dress, leggings, and fur-lined snow boots. Her long, golden brown hair stands out against her dress, and some gold eyeshadow and thick mascara make her almond-shaped brown eyes pop. I turn to the tiny mirror taped inside my locker and check my own makeup to find a few flecks of mascara have flaked off onto my right cheekbone thanks to Lexi’s hands. I brush the specks away and slam my locker door shut.

I can’t believe it’s only Wednesday, Lexi huffs. "This week is dragging."

No kidding, I say, but before the words are fully out of my mouth, Lexi’s already turned her attention down the hall to yell at Alissa Lofton: Hurry up, whore. We’re going to be late for homeroom.

Alissa, in skinny jeans and a tight black sweater, both of which seem to emphasize how small she is, trots toward us carrying an armload of books. Chill out, slut, she says to Lexi. I’m running a little behind this morning. I didn’t get enough beauty sleep last night.

"Well, it would take a lot of beauty sleep to help you," I say.

Oh, you’re funny, bitch, Alissa fires back.

Bitch, slut, whore…believe it or not Alissa, Lexi, and I are actually friends. Best friends. I think Lexi was the one who started the whole fake insult thing, using the excuse that people were probably calling us those names behind our backs anyway because they hate us. By using the words ourselves, we’d be diluting their meaning…or something. I didn’t really buy Lexi’s reasoning, but like so many things we’ve done over the years, our insulting pet names have stuck, even though I’d bet the rest of the school doesn’t find our dumb gag very funny.

As a group, though, we’ve never truly cared what people think about anything we do. It’s easy not to care when you’re the most popular girls in school and you run everything. The three of us have been on the Ridgeview High Student Council since freshman year, and now that we’re seniors, Lexi’s president while I’m president of the senior class. Last year, I was homecoming queen and Alissa was queen of winter formal, while Lexi was winter formal queen this year. In addition to being homecoming queen, I’ve been on the winter formal court three times as a princess, and I’ve lost count of how many times Alissa and Lexi have been princesses on the school’s various royal courts. We also run Ridgeview’s three most prestigious extracurriculars besides student council—I’m captain of the cheerleading squad, Alissa’s captain of the dance team, and Lexi’s the head of the Ridgeview Raiders Spirit Squad, which is our school’s pep club. Basically, the only things we don’t do around here are teach classes, hand out detentions, clean the bathrooms, and head up some of the nerdier things like debate or yearbook.

Our dominance over our fellow Ridgeview teenagers extends to our social lives as well. Lexi, Alissa, and I were the only girls in our class who were asked to prom as freshmen, and during our first two years at Ridgeview, we only dated guys who were juniors and seniors. Once we became juniors and seniors ourselves, we started dating the most popular guys in school who were our age. For example, the summer before junior year, Luke Nostrand, who was going to be the starting quarterback for the football team when school started up again in the fall, asked me out one day at the country club pool and we’ve been together ever since, while Lexi and Alissa both started dating football players that fall.

So, if people call the three of us bitches behind our backs out of envy, I kind of wouldn’t blame them because we’re basically living some kind of TV drama fantasy version of high school in real life. And while I’ve never heard about anyone calling us bitches, whores, or sluts, I do know people call us The Perfects and we’ve never had a problem with it, even if it’s meant as an insult.

Better than being called The Losers, I guess.

The three of us are about to head for homeroom when I feel hands slide around my waist from behind. Hey, gorgeous, Luke says into my ear, and I turn in his arms to plant a kiss on his lips. He should know gorgeous when he sees it because he’s all blue-eyed, blond-haired perfection, with a strong jawline and a muscular build developed over years of playing sports. Football’s been his only sport since we’ve been in high school, though, and while he’s a decent player—from what people tell me, anyway, since I have almost no understanding of football—our team always sucks, which has basically killed his chances at an athletic scholarship.

Hey, yourself, I say against his mouth, going in for another kiss. Behind me, Lexi groans.

Get a room, she grumbles.

I twist my head around so I can see her. You’re just jealous because Dean’s homeroom is all the way at the other end of the hall, I say, referring to her boyfriend. You two would totally be making out if he were here right now.

Whatever. Lexi rolls her eyes. We’re going to be late. Let’s get a move-on.

Lexi and Alissa glide into Mrs. Markham’s homeroom, while Luke and I untangle from each other and hold hands, entering behind them. We say hello to Mrs. Markham—who’s so old she’s been teaching business classes here since my mom was in high school—and wave to the few people in this room we actually talk to before taking our seats. Lexi and Alissa sit in the front row as always while Luke and I take the two seats behind them.

The bell rings and Principal Kennerly comes over the loudspeaker with morning announcements. Once he’s done, we usually have a few minutes to move around and talk before the end of the homeroom period, but instead of talking to my friends, I slink to the back of the room toward Rachel Lord and Ellie Stengel, feeling guilty the whole way.

Hey, guys. I mask my guilt by flashing them a smile and pushing my silky blonde curls off my shoulder. I notice Janey Douchette, who always sits on Ellie’s other side, isn’t there. Most days, she comes in right at the bell or a few seconds late, but she’s always at school—she has near-perfect attendance just like I do. She must be sick or something.

Ellie, who’s wearing a black wool sweater and baggy jeans that mask her stocky frame, leans forward in her desk so she can see around Rachel. What?

Her voice has a chippy tone to it—her voice always has a chippy tone to it—and so I ignore her and talk to Rachel instead. That calculus homework last night was a bitch, huh? I say.

Ellie mutters something I can’t hear while Rachel says, Yeah. It was kind of tough, I guess.

Yeah… I fidget in my seat and pretend to be interested in the blush-colored nail polish I got this time around during my weekly manicure—avoiding Rachel’s stare makes me feel less like an ass. Can you help me with the last few problems? I ask, not looking up. She’s always been good at math, and she’s a good student overall and always has been, even if she’s not valedictorian-level smart. The ones after number five really got me.

I force myself to meet her gaze, and to my relief, she’s smiling just as she always is when I come begging for math help. Every time I pull the help me routine—which is, like, almost daily—I keep expecting today will be the day when Rachel tells me to go to hell. But she never does.

Sure. We’ll talk in study hall, okay? Rachel says.

I clasp my hands together as if I’m about to begin a cheerleading move and stand up, pulling down the hem of my blue plaid skirt that tends to ride up when I sit. You. Are. A. Lifesaver, I tell her. I’ll hit you up then.

I rush back to the front of the room without saying anything else, and as the bell rings, Alissa says, Looks like someone needs help with their calc homework again.

Oh, my god, I blurt out, gathering up my books. "That class is killing me. Rachel’s the only thing keeping me from failing right now."

I can’t even believe you’re taking calculus, Alissa says, shoving her books and folders into the crook of her arm as she winds one of her dark curls around her index finger with her free hand. Algebra is totally kicking my ass. There’s no way I could survive calc.

Alissa is taking Algebra I, which Lexi and I—along with most of the senior class—took freshman year. Unlike Rachel, Alissa’s…not smart. And now that Lexi and I are waiting to hear from colleges and filling out last-minute applications, I feel kind of bad whenever the subjects of college and next year come up in conversation because Alissa has nothing to contribute and kind of gets this faraway look in her eyes, like she has no idea where she’s going to be come August. It’s gotten to the point I try not to talk about college when we’re around her, but Lexi always manages to bring it up somehow, like she’s trying to rub Alissa’s face in the fact she won’t be going away to school.

You know, you could probably find a better tutor than that nobody Rachel Lord, Lexi says, flipping her hair as we