Cora Emerson applied her favorite shade of red lipstick and set out to ruin someone's life.
She belonged amidst the skeletons, ghosts, and witchy decorations displayed in almost every shop window. One pharmacy had a sign that read, "Magic Spells $1.00." Her family would have laughed at the sign, but it warmed her heart.
This would be her year to prove she could be as wicked as the other Emersons.
The earthy aroma of fall foliage hung in the afternoon air in Thorne Point. There was a bite in the wind that swept a pile of fallen leaves down the street, gathering at her feet. Spiders skittered up her spine and she shivered, loving it.
All of Elorie had been doused in light, rich and caramel glazed.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the window of a flower shop, admiring the red ribbons tied in two perfect bows around her afro puffs, and cackled, ending up in a coughing fit, as if she might lose a lung or two. A few people looked her way, including an old woman who wrinkled her nose over her shoulder.
Cora waved her hand as if to say, "No worries. This happens all the time." It did. More than she would have liked to admit. Once the older woman turned away, she grasped her throat. "For the love of crows."
Her great-grandmother, Mariam, had schooled her in the art of cackling but she never got it quite right. "It should come from the back of your throat." Mariam demonstrated, tossing back her head of silver curls.
When Cora tried, she ended up with saliva down her chin.
The cackle was an amateur sorceress's practice. She should have gotten it right. She wiped her mouth on her coat sleeve, humiliation souring her confidence and darkening her mood. She snapped her fingers, making a strewn coffee cup roll under the old woman's foot. Served her right. She allowed herself a smile. The woman deserved it for being so pretentious. But her delight was short lived as the familiar gnawing in the pit of her stomach returned, egging her to do the right thing. The fall would hurt.
Frail as she was, she might shatter her hip.
As she tipped backwards, Cora ran up to her and caught her before she hit the concrete. Her fine velvet hat went askew on her head, over her eyes.
"Gosh." She struggled in Cora's arms to right herself, shoving her hat away from her face. "Thank you, dear. I don't know how I managed to miss my step, but I'm quite all right now."
Cora's face grew warm, a reaction spurred by guilt. "You're welcome, miss."
She didn't let go until the woman had caught her bearings. Still shaken from her near fall, she tipped backwards once more, losing her hat. She grabbed at Cora for support, and she considered letting her fall. Her mother, Stella, would say, "Common courtesy is not the Emerson way." Instead, she caught her again and helped her up to the right position.
"My goodness," said the woman, flustered. "I'll have to speak with my doctor about that vertigo medication."
While she adjusted her fur coat, Cora picked up her hat. It was as expensive as she'd presumed it to be. Of course, a woman in a fur coat, who most likely wore perfumes with French labels (she smelled as if she did) didn't buy cheap hats from vendors on Rosen Street.
I should take it.
It would be her first wicked act of the day. She should have had at least three under her belt by now, a fault she blamed on her soft and gullible heart. The lining was cool and buttery under her fingers, the finest silk, the color a deep, rich blue. More expensive than anything she could afford; she could think of the perfect outfit to go with it. Her black dress with the black satin ribbon around the waist. She'd worn it in a photo shoot for her blog last week. She let her fingers trace the stitching. Not one thread stuck out.
Her mother's voice piped up in her head. I'm sure she has many. You should take it if you want it so much. It is a fine hat.
She swallowed and glanced over her shoulder down the street. She could make it home before the woman had the chance to catch up. It would be too easy. Her toes tingled from the rush of excitement, the scuttle of magic sweeping up her five-foot-four frame.
A child's swindle. Her grandmother, Agatha, would flick her French manicured hand.
Cora's mouth watered.
Much to her dismay, she had swindled no one this week. She took a step back. A swindle was still a swindle after all. She could run, but who knew how much the hat cost. It could have been a family heirloom for all she knew. She must have spent too long deciding because the woman snatched it from her hands, making her jump.
"Thank you." She turned on her heel and started down the street.
Cora puffed out her cheeks. Once again, she had missed an opportunity to show her family she did deserve to be a sorceress. She crossed her arms, sullen for a moment. Then, remembering she had somewhere to be, the school, she continued on her way. She'd promised her best friend, Eva, she'd help with the decorations for the upcoming Halloween dance at Thorne Point High.
She wished she hadn't. The year would be over in a snap of her fingers, and it wasn't as if anyone was lining up to have their lives ruined. Causing misery to a poor, unsuspecting soul wasn't as easy as it sounded. The last thing she needed was to help anyone. In fact, she needed help more than ever, but she hated saying no to Eva and Halloween was her favorite holiday.
While biting her nails, she waited at the stoplight for the light to change. An ambulance flew by, sirens blaring, yet another reminder she needed to do some harm. A child's swindle would have been better than nothing. In her coat pocket, her cell phone buzzed. Once she retrieved it, she saw it was a text from Eva.
I hope you're on your way. No one's here but me.
Cora texted back: I'll be there in a sec.
She crossed the street onto Wicks and 5th, past Crumbs and Crumble Café, eyeing their Halloween decorations through the window with a slight smile. Spider webs stretched over the backs of chairs and cloth ghosts hung from the ceiling. A note from the song on the speakers met her ears. She didn't recognize the song.
How spooky.
This Halloween, she would name her victim and dedicate the rest of the year to making their life hell. Her fingers tingled at the thought of the charms she would try out on this unassuming person. She might turn them into a mouse if she pleased. Maybe even a cockroach to show how sinister she could be.
Although a voice in the back of her head called her cruel, she shook it away. This was not the time to go soft, even though she couldn't quite help being soft at times. She needed to be cruel or else. "Or else my family would never forgive me," she said out loud.
It would be worse than ruining one pathetic stranger's life.
The Emerson sorceresses, for centuries, had always been the best at sorcery. She had years of wickedness at stake. Even her younger sister, Willow-Rose, Willow for short, had caused more misery than she had. Was it so hard for her to be wicked if a twelve-year-old could do it?
Walking past an array of familiar row houses, all with smiling pumpkins on their front steps, she had a sudden, wicked idea. She glanced both ways first to make sure no one would see. Other than for a few sparrows and pigeons picking at a moldy piece of bread, she was alone. She dashed up the steps of the closest house, tucked a small pumpkin under her arm, and dashed back down. Though no one followed her, she hustled along until she'd reached Thorne Point High.
"Ha! How's that for wickedness?" She grinned.
She held the pumpkin up to inspect it. As she did, the grin slipped off her face. She could imagine Willow laughing at her pathetic attempt to swindle. She could imagine what the owner of the pumpkin would say to her neighbor the next day.
"How pitiful. If you're going to steal a pumpkin, why not take the biggest one? I tell you; people will steal anything nowadays."
Sad could have been her middle name.
Cora sighed, but she tucked the pumpkin under her arm again and went up the school steps anyway. At the very least, Eva would find somewhere to put it. She wandered down the empty halls. How gloomy the school seemed when there weren't any students around. She could easily cause some trouble here: deface a blackboard with a vulgar slur, tear down the student artwork and essays on the bulletin boards, or chuck pencils and wadded up toilet paper at the ceiling.
Tempted, she twiddled her fingers at the hem of her coat, magic coursing through them. How wicked of her to consider it, but she kept on. A florescent bulb flickered as she strode past the orange flyers announcing this year's Halloween dance. Her shoes squeaked against the tile, announcing her arrival.
Eva waited for her outside the gym, her head against the wall and her eyes closed. When the squeak of Cora's shoes met her, her eyes flew open behind her pink, rhinestone cat eyeglasses. At her feet were two paper bags stuffed to the brim with party decorations.
"You're here." Eva bounced on her toes. She was the kind of person who got excited over the littlest things because of this Cora loved her.
She held up the pumpkin.
"And you've brought a pumpkin." Eva beamed. "We might as well get started." She waved at the bags. "I don't think anyone else is coming. Those flakes." She fastened her hands to her hips. "You're a godsend, Cora."
"Is this all of it?" Cora picked up one of the bags. Despite its size, it wasn't heavy.
Eva took the other. "It's all we could afford on this year's budget." Then under her breath added, "They're such cheapskates." She pushed the door to the gym open and they went in.
Thorne Point High School wasn't large by any means. With about four hundred students and a small faculty, you couldn't expect the gym to be anything more than an empty room with dull wood flooring. During the day, PE consisted of yoga, jump rope, hula hooping, and anything else that didn't require an adequate amount of space.
It was, to say the least, a miserable sight.
Eva found the light switch and the lights sputtered on. "I asked the janitor for a ladder." She dumped her bag near the wall. Some of its contents spilled onto the floor. "Where do you want to start?" She tapped her chin in a classic, "Eva is thinking," way.
Cora who was still holding the bag and her pumpkin, said, "We might as well start here." She put the pumpkin and the bag down next to Eva's and pulled out a banner. She held it up, scanning the walls for the perfect place to put it.
"It's going to be freshman coming to this thing, right?" On the tips of her toes, she slapped the banner that said, "Happy Halloweeners," against the wall and frowned at it.
Every year, the school put on a Halloween dance for those students who didn't have anything better to do on Friday night. Cora didn't have anything better to do on Friday night, but she didn't want to spend it at school.
"Yeah, well." Eva rifled through her bag. She took out a roll of tape. "I still want it to look decent." As a member of the small student council, Eva had the role of organizing the school dances, which meant staying late after school sticking things to the gym walls. She handed Cora the tape. "Make sure it's straight. I want it to be perfect."
Cora gave her a look, one quirked brow.
"Okay, semi-perfect."
She tilted her head and readjusted the banner. When it was straight, she took a piece of tape from Eva. Eva shifted her gaze to the bag at her feet, giving Cora the perfect opportunity to snap her fingers and the banner, like magic, fixed itself.
"Please tell me you're coming to this thing. I don't want to be the only senior there." Eva crossed her arms and jutted her bottom lip a bit, her signal she wanted Cora to say yes.
Cora looked away from the banner. Sometimes life presented her with the perfect opportunity to lie, to say she would do something but then not do it. Except, this was Eva, and she would rather not spend her last days of high school friendless. Then again, lying was the Emerson way. She sucked in a breath for emphasis. "I wish I could, E, but my mom wants me to help out at home with the family business."
Eva's arms fell to her sides, defeated, then she shrugged. "Let's get the rest of these up so we can get out of here."
Cora swallowed past the lump of guilt in her throat and nodded. Of course, Eva had no idea what she was. She had never even met her family. She had always been afraid of Eva finding out what she was, so she'd have to be kept away. Far away from the rest of the Emersons, especially Willow who loathed strangers.
Outside, the sun vanished behind the buildings. The gray-blue sky had gone Cora's favorite shade of purple. There'd be no time to take new photos for her blog, which was a shame because she did like her outfit today, an emerald green dress, her black lace up ankle boots, black tights, and her ratty, ruby red coat.
It surprised her Eva hadn't commented on it, as she often did. After all, it was their love of fashion that brought them together their freshman year. "Your sweater's so sweet," Cora said, in an attempt to cheer Eva up.
It was black with pink, blue, and yellow puffballs. It reminded Cora of a Crumbs and Crumble whipped icing chocolate cake topped with sprinkles.
Eva stopped searching through her bag and smiled up at her. "Thanks." She tucked a strand of her straightened, dark hair behind her ear. "It's an Eva George original."
Cora laughed. Her guilt simmered down from its boil. She went through her own bag for something to put next to the banner and settled on a ghost with a speech bubble that said, "Boo." She held it up in front of her face and made spooky noises.
"I am the ghost of Cora Emerson, and I think you are spook-tacular." When she looked over the thin piece of cardboard, Eva shook her head. There went trying to cheer her best friend up.
She gave up and stuck her ghost right next to the banner. I wish I could tell her the truth. You couldn't go up to someone and say, "Hey, by the way, I'm a sorceress." It didn't work that way. If she did tell Eva, she might scare her off.
No one, not even Willow, could make it through high school without a friend. Your friends kept you sane through the chaos of high school.
They were essential and she was hopelessly inept at making new ones.
Hello dear friends! First off, thank you for finishing the first chapter of WICKED WAYS TO RUIN A BOY. You're welcome to call it WWTRAB if you'd like. As of 2022, it's been seven years since I posted the first draft of this story on Wattpad. Isn't that wild? I've added over 20k of new words to the story since. That means some new chapters, scenes, and a never before read epilogue. I'm so excited for you to read all of it.
Thanks for sticking around for a little while. I'll see you in the comments!
Be sure to tune in next week Friday to see what Cora Emerson plans to do about being a magical misfortune.
All the best! - T.A. Joseph