Better to Bite
Also available at:
Genre Young Adult Fantasy
Tags Fantasy, YA, Fairy Tales, Witches, Little Red Riding Hood, Mystery, short story
Release March 15, 2013
Editor Fiona Young-Brown
Line Editor Penny Ehrenkranz
Cover Designer Karen Phillips
All Wicca wants is to go to the senior prom. Instead she finds herself embroiled in her home town mystery. Someone is breaking into the homes of the elderly. Is it her nerd friend with the unibrow? Or the cool guy who's just asked her to the prom? And is Wicca's beloved Gamma next on the list?
"Prom dress?" Wicca squeaked. Despite her grandmother's skill with a needle, she'd have preferred buying something off the rack like all the other girls.
"Yes, I told you I cast the runes. I knew you were going."
Gamma pulled a large box out from under the sofa, and out of the box came yards and yards of bright red satin.
Oh, no. The Three B's, all three being blond, looked muddy in bright red, so had declared it the stupid slut color.
"It's red," Wicca said.
The dress shimmered in the fading light, like blood flowing.
"You were born to wear this color, Wicca."
Wicca touched the material. Soft and warm like a living thing. But the dress seemed to be missing something, something important, something supportive … "Where are the straps?"
"There are no straps."
"Then what keeps it on?" Wicca asked, a horrible suspicion dawning.
"You do, or more specifically, your breasts do."
"Gamma, I can't wear this, nobody else will have a strapless dress."
"Nobody else has got the equipment to wear one. If you've got it, and you do, might as well use it."
"No buts. Try it on."
Wicca sighed and complied.
Once on, she stared at her reflection in the picture window. Darkness turned the window into a mirror. The top of the gown flowed tight over her curves, flaring to a wide skirt below her hips, perfect for dancing.
"Child, that dress will make those boys at the prom swallow their tongues," Gamma said.
Wicca had to admit she looked great. She turned around, watching the skirt swirl. When she looked out the window again, a face stared back. Wicca yelped.
The face yelped back.
"Why, it's that nice Boy Scout, Brad." Gamma gave Wicca a nudge on her shoulder. "Ask him in."
"Nice? He's peeping."
"Nonsense. Boy Scouts don't peep."
"He hasn't been a Boy Scout for years." Still, Wicca agreed with Gamma's assessment of Brad. He was so all American, so clean cut he could slice bread, and he was Bonnie's boyfriend. No way would he peep.
"Brad, get in here," Wicca called out the front door.
Brad blinked at her mid-chest. "Wicca, is that you in that dress?"
She realized he had never seen her without an oversized shirt as camouflage. She stepped back out of the doorway.
"No, it's my grandmother, silly." She tried for a light tone in her voice, all the while hoping her embarrassment didn't show as much as her bust.
Brad edged inside. He finally spotted Gamma. "Oh, good evening, ma'am. I saw the light, and so I came up and..." He trailed off and stared at his shoes. Even red-faced, Brad was drop dead gorgeous.
"Hello, Boy Scout." Gamma held out a plate of her so-scrumptious-as-to-be-witchy-sinful chocolate chip cookies. "How about a cookie?"
Brad took one and munched.
"Oh, take two or three, growing boy like you."
Brad grinned, embarrassment forgotten. "Reason I'm here," he said, through cookie crumbs, "is because of the break-ins."
"Ready to confess?" Wicca teased. Something about Brad brought out her witchiness.
"Wicca, behave," Gamma scolded.
"Oh, don’t," Brad said, to Wicca's surprise.
More surprising, he winked at her when he said it. Brad? Who before tonight she had always wondered if he even knew her name?