Welcome to Sortilege Falls

WELCOME TO SORTILEGE FALLS

by Libby Heily

Sixteen-year-old Grape Merriweather has just moved to Sortilege Falls and already she knows something isn't right. A small pack of teenage models, too beautiful for words, hold the town in their sway. The models have no plans on making Grape's life easy. But no matter how cruel they are to Grape and the other Normals, no one can stay angry with them for long.

Grape's life changes for the better, or so she thinks, when Mandy, the only nice model, befriends her. But that’s when the trouble truly begins. Mandy's friendship places Grape smack in the middle of a medical mystery that has the entire town on edge. One by one, the models fall ill from an incurable disease. Grape quickly realizes that the models' parents are hiding a secret, even as they watch their children die. To save her only friend, Grape will have to find the truth–and that means putting her life in danger.

Table of Contents

Welcome to Sortilege Falls

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Previews

Chapter One

Grape’s pulse slowed to a trickle. Boredom threatened to kill her as she stood near the front desk waiting to get her class schedule. She’d had no idea that registering for a new school would take forever. If she had, she and her mother would have arrived an hour before school began instead of just half an hour.

The secretary, Mrs. Gladstone according to the nameplate in front of her, click-clacked her zebra-striped fingernails slowly on the keyboard. She bit her lip as she worked, so hard in fact, that Grape felt sure the secretary would eventually cut herself with her own teeth.

How's the weather in Virginia? Mrs. Gladstone asked and then quickly chomped down on her lip again.

Grape’s mother checked her watch. It’s a bit cooler than here. Her forced smile grew weary around the edges. Her mother still had to register Brad for classes at Sortilege Falls Middle School before she headed to her new job at the hospital.

Mrs. Gladstone bobbed her head to an unknown beat, her spiky, purplish-red hair refusing to move as she read over the schedule on the computer screen. We’re just getting over our own cool spell.

Her mother checked her watch again and then checked the time on the wall clock. In a strained but determined-to-be-polite voice, she said,

Sortilege Falls seems very nice so far.

Best town in all of Missouri. You couldn’t have landed in a nicer spot if you’d tried, Mrs. Gladstone assured her.

I doubt it’s nicer than Watts Landing, Grape thought.

Who’s that? her mother asked, pointing at the poster behind Mrs. Gladstone. They’d seen these posters plastered all around town. Lance Irving, the star of Stone Huntington, Teen PI, took up one half of the poster, its smoky blue background giving him the look of a troubled angel. A picture of Lance Irving had hung in Grape’s bedroom since middle school, so she was confident her mother knew of him. Plus, she’d forced her mother and Brad to watch multiple episodes of his show. The other half of the poster featured a redheaded teenage girl dressed in a short, red dress, her hair whirling behind her as if she were trapped in a windstorm. Grape definitely preferred the Lance side.

You mean you don’t know? Mrs. Gladstone glanced back and forth from the poster to Grape’s mother, blinking her large blue eyes in disbelief.

I know he’s Lance Irving. I’ve just never seen her before.

That’s Celia Strom. The supermodel. Mrs. Gladstone spoke slowly, as if to a child. Her photos are in almost every magazine.

Ahhh, her mother said. I see. Are they doing a charity event in town? There’s no information on the poster.

Grape could feel herself blushing. Her stomach flip-flopped as Mrs. Gladstone broke into a bright and pitying grin.

They were born here, Mrs. Gladstone said. Pride is a sin, but we just can’t seem to help ourselves.

Grape could feel her face growing hot. I live where Lance Irving was born? She had to text this to Kelly. She was now living in the town where her future husband had been delivered. Well, her future husband if she had anything to do with it.

Mrs. Gladstone laughed, but Grape did not enjoy the sound. It reminded her of screeching brakes. They’re our town treasures. We’ve been pretty lucky in Sortilege Falls. A few of our teens have modeled and been featured on television.

Her mother wrapped her arm around Grape’s shoulders and gave her a big squeeze. Her shiny brown eyes were filled with their own pride. My daughter acts as well.

Oh my God, she’s beaming. Please stop beaming.

The smile faded from Mrs. Gladstone’s face. "Well, we do offer drama here, of course. It’s not too competitive. The real actors refuse to audition for the plays."

Real actors?

Mrs. Gladstone raised an eyebrow at Grape. Yes, dear, the ones who’ve already been on television.

Ahh. Well, at least she wouldn’t be competing with stunningly gorgeous Celia Strom for a part.

Her mother’s arms tensed. Grape could feel her fighting off the urge to yell at the snooty secretary.

All done. Mrs. Gladstone scooped up the schedule from the printer and handed it to Grape.

Ugh, trig first thing in the morning. Gross.

Can I move trigonometry to a little later in the day?

Afraid not, the only other trig class is completely full.

That’s okay, Grape said, forcing another smile. It was definitely not okay. She stumbled into school most mornings still bleary-eyed with sleep. How could she possibly focus on math at that hour? She’d have to break down and drink coffee. Yuck.

Well, let’s hope you fit in at Mark Twain High, Mrs. Gladstone said with a wide smile.

Grape chuckled at that. Of course she’d fit in. She’d always been good at making new friends. She stopped laughing when Mrs. Gladstone didn’t join her. Is there anything else I need to fill out? her mother asked in a stern voice.

No, you’re all taken care of. Mrs. Gladstone handed Grape a map of the school. Here you go, sweetie. New places can be confusing.

I won’t be needing that. She handed the map back to the secretary. The school didn’t look that big. She could manage.

Put it in your bag, just in case. Mrs. Gladstone’s smile contained no warmth as she pushed the map into Grape’s unwilling hand.

Grape stuffed the map into her bag. There was zero chance she would carry it with her through the halls like a tourist, or worse—a freshman. She'd just ask another student if she got lost. It was an easy way to meet people.

You all set? her mother asked.

I’m good.

See you tonight. Her mother leaned down for a hug but then caught herself and pulled back.

Relief flooded through Grape. Thank goodness her mom understood the embarrassment of being hugged by your parent in public. Instead, her mother gave Grape a cheerful wave and headed back to the parking lot and Brad.

Poor kid, Grape thought. Her geeky brother had no chance of making new friends, especially with his newfound obsession with all things botanical. Could he choose a weirder hobby? It had taken Brad until fourth grade to find the three friends he’d hung out with in Watts Landing, and even they thought his plant obsession was super odd. Grape made a mental note to take Brad to the movies that weekend. She couldn’t leave him sitting at home all the time.

She ran a hand over her skirt to smooth the wrinkles. She’d taken great care choosing the perfect outfit for her first day as a new student. All eyes would be on her, and she wanted to be ready. She’d texted Kelly, her best friend in Watts Landing, pictures of different outfits the night before, and Kelly had helped her narrow it down to three finalists. Grape had worn each outfit for half an hour, checking to see how she looked when sitting, standing, and walking. The only other time she’d spent so long choosing an outfit was for prom, and even then she’d found a dress she could live with in under two hours.

Grape stepped out into the busy hallway, ready to make new friends. Every nerve in her body tingled in anticipation. She rubbed her palms together, trying to warm her suddenly cold hands. Don’t shake hands with anyone, she thought. They might think you’re a reanimated corpse. Also, never tell anyone you just thought that. She smiled brightly at every passerby, hoping to make eye contact. Several long minutes passed, but not one person even glanced her way.

Hi, she ventured to a girl who stood just a little down the hall, tapping hurriedly on her cell phone. The girl rolled her eyes and inched farther away.

I’m new here, Grape said, pressing on.

I’m not, the girl said as she walked off.

Maybe the black skirt and turquoise top weren’t the right combination? Did they clash with her strawberry blonde hair and green eyes? Or maybe she’d gone too natural with her makeup? Should she have curled her hair? Worn heels to boost her height a couple of inches? Crap, if only she’d inherited her mother’s height. No, she looked fine. Grape knew that. Most new students in Watts Landing had shown up in jeans and T-shirts, and kids had still flocked to them, herself included.

Grape adjusted her book bag; it felt odd and cumbersome. She’d rarely carried the bag herself. There had always been some helpful boy ready to lug it around for her. But no one in the hallway offered. No one even said hello.

She decided to join the flow of students. Surely, once she made it to class, someone would realize that she was new and befriend her. Grape took a few tentative steps and then stopped. The trigonometry classroom could be anywhere in the building, and she had no idea where to find it.

Mrs. Gladstone poked her head out of the office with a smile that said I told you so. You’re going to want to go down the hall and take the last left. It’s on the map.

Thanks, Grape mumbled as she headed off.

Minutes dragged by as she hunted for trigonometry. The tardy bell rang and Grape dashed into a nearby classroom, hoping she’d found the right one. The giant poster of George Washington on the wall and the American history textbooks on the students’ desks let her know she was wrong. She offered a quick apology and hurried back into the hallway. Crap.

Several minutes later, she finally found the right room, thanks to the assistance of a very bored teacher. Grape took a moment to collect herself in the hallway. She used her phone to check her hair and makeup. There were no flaws in her clothing, though she searched thread by thread to make sure. Grape knocked on the closed door, threw her shoulders back, and nearly fainted when the teacher opened the door.

My math teacher is a witch.

Or at least she could have passed for one in a movie. A mop of frizzy gray hair hung loosely in her face, obscuring her milky white, heavily scarred eye. The other eye, crystal blue with a large black pupil, twinkled in the fluorescent light. She couldn’t have been more than four feet tall, but her sinewy limbs and sharp features gave her a frightening severity.

Grape kept her gaze glued to the floor as she handed the teacher her note. Her breath came rough and jagged. It felt like she was inhaling tumbleweeds.

Don’t faint. Don’t faint.

The teacher fixed her white eye on Grape, staring down into the depths of her soul.

Grape attempted to lick her chapped lips, but her entire mouth had gone dry, leaving her tongue the same texture as an unused sponge.

I’m Mrs. Humphries, the witch croaked. Glad to have you. Take a seat.

Grape hadn’t fainted, so at least she had that going for her. She turned to face the class. This is it, this is where I start meeting new friends.

A wall of boredom greeted her. She tried to make eye contact with the students closest to her, but they returned her eager smile with dead-eyed disinterest.

I don’t get it, she thought as she walked to an empty seat in the back of the class. Watts Landing was next to an Air Force base, and they got new students at her school all the time. She and her friends were always interested in the new kids. All Sortilege Falls could boast was a mall and a lake as far as she could tell, and these kids acted like she was a piece of bubblegum on the bottom of their shoes.

Hi there, my name’s Grape Merriweather, she said to the boy sitting next to the empty desk.

I don’t care, he said, not bothering to look at her. Grape noted the pictures of Celia Strom that covered the front of his notebook. Maybe if she were a six-foot-tall supermodel, he would say hello.

Grape slunk down in her chair and took out her notebook. At best, she struggled with math, and she had no idea if this class was ahead or behind her old one. She glanced down at the notes she had written in case the teacher asked her to introduce herself. Mrs. Humphries skipped that ceremony and plunged directly into the day’s lecture.

Grape took notes furiously, finding it difficult to keep up with Mrs. Humphries’ rapid speech. Math had been hard enough in Watts Landing where the teacher spoke slowly and gave multiple examples. Here, it might be impossible.

Her wrist hurt by the time the dismissal bell finally rang. She tried to shake off the weirdness of math class as she hurried to advanced chemistry. There was no way every kid in this school would ignore her. At least she hoped not.

She had no idea how to get to her next class. Grape wandered the halls, peeking in every door she passed, looking for Bunsen burners or a friendly face. Finding neither, she finally broke down and asked a girl, a freshman by the looks of her, for directions.

It’s like, down the hall a ways, the girl said between blowing bubbles with her gum.

Thanks. I appreciate the help. I’m new. My name is...

But the girl had already turned to leave.

Miss Invisible.

Grape slunk down the hall, feeling smaller and smaller with every step. She finally found her chemistry class, several minutes after the bell had rung. Again, she had to knock on the door and introduce herself to the teacher and the other students. Again, nobody cared.

If it weren’t for the Lance Irving posters plastered around the school, she would have felt completely miserable by the time lunch rolled around.

Sitting by herself in the cafeteria was not an option, so Grape decided to stroll the school grounds. Her nerves had finally settled down a bit, which was good since she’d almost broken the skin on her finger from twisting her ring. At least she wouldn’t get lost anymore. She’d broken down and used the map. It turned out that asking desperately for directions and running up and down the halls was way worse than looking like a tourist.

Grape fingered her cell phone as she headed toward the main entrance of the school. A walk in the sun and a chat with her best friend was exactly what she needed right now.

The young vampire-looking boy lurking by the double doors gave her pause. His baggy jeans whooshed as he paced. The white makeup slathered on his face did not match the deep tan of his exposed arms. This boy had too much life in him to look as dead as he desired. Short black curls bounced on his head as he walked, but the light brown roots gave away his dye job.

Grape put on her determined face. This was the only exit she knew about and dammit, she wanted to text her friend.

She took her phone out of her bag and concentrated on looking at the screen as she walked past him.

Do you know what time it is? he asked.

The high pitch of his voice surprised her. His height made her expect Darth Vader, not SpongeBob Square Pants.

Um...it’s 12:15.

That far past noon? He peered out the window, the sunlight bouncing off his faux white skin.

Afraid so.

He turned to face her, really taking notice of her for the first time. You’re new here, aren’t you?

Yes. A thousand-watt smile spread across her face. Someone actually noticed me. I exist.

First day?

Yes. Very first.

I think you guys live on my block.

Oh yeah? Grape asked, her stomach sinking. She did not relish the idea of running into this kid around the neighborhood. Which house is yours?

The one with all the stuff out front.

Oh, Grape said. Of course. Brad had been fascinated by the lawn filled with doodads, whirligigs, and animatronic statues. The plastic Rudolph with the missing nose was by far the creepiest, though the toilet with geraniums growing out of the basin gave it a run for its money.

Yeah, that’s how most people react. You get used to it. He offered her a sheepish grin.

My brother thinks your house is awesome. It was all she could think to say. Eyesore was the adjective she would have used.

The boy glanced out the window. Finally. He took his sweet time getting here. It was nice to meet you, he called over his shoulder as he walked out the door.

You too. She waited a minute before walking outside. She did not want this boy to think she was following him.

She stepped into the sunlight and unlocked her phone. She texted Kelly:

First day=unholy nightmare

The concrete walkway gave way to the asphalt parking lot. The football field loomed in the distance. If the field was crowded or being used for a gym class, then she could always duck into the woods just beyond it. Maybe she could take some pictures of the plants for Brad. Ugh. Grape rolled her eyes. She couldn’t believe she’d just thought about doing that.

Her phone buzzed.

At least it can’t get worse

Grape texted: "The only kid who’s talked to me looks like a vampire :( "

At least someone besides a teacher had finally spoken to her.

What are you wearing? a snotty voice asked Grape.

Chapter Two

Grape’s entire body stiffened as she looked up from her phone. Five of the most beautiful people to ever walk the earth stood scattered around two Porsches. Did I walk into a photo shoot?

I mean, gross.

The words came from an impossibly beautiful girl. Loose, raven-black locks fell over her shoulders, the tips lingering above her full bosom. Grape could almost hear the sizzle and static of her electric blue eyes. The sun had kissed the girl’s skin lightly, leaving a glow that made the air around her shimmer. Her pouty, pink, full lips begged to be kissed, though the guy standing behind her, his arm draped over her shoulder protectively, warned off all who would be so bold.

The boy behind her, if anything, was even more handsome than she was beautiful. Muscle stacked upon muscle until his clothes had no choice but to hug every inch of his body. His dark eyebrows and strong jaw lent him a tough look, one that was backed up by the playful anger in his eyes.

The raven-haired goddess turned and embraced her beau, her face tucked away into the heat of his chest. He sat propped up on the hood of a yellow Porsche, the sleek lines of the car offset by the disdain on his face. They were so incredibly, delightfully gorgeous that even though he looked as if he had seen a cockroach instead of a human being, Grape’s heart still melted at the sight of them.

I think she’s in love.

Grape snapped her gaze away from the Adonis with the nasty temperament and turned toward the twin boys standing in front of a black Porsche. Her eyes bounced between the two, taking in every perfect feature. Flawless, rich, dark brown skin. Sparkling hazel eyes. Muscles so tight that you could bounce a quarter off their abs, or arms, or anywhere on their bodies, really. They looked as perfectly engineered as the cars they stood by. But it was their lusciously long eyelashes that sent Grape swooning. Men were not meant to be this pretty.

Leave her alone, guys.

Grape’s head spun. Each person she saw was more beautiful than the last, and the redheaded girl standing off to the side was no exception. The baggy jeans and generic T-shirt she wore did not detract from her creamy skin and full lips. Her large brown eyes fascinated Grape—red flakes glimmered from inside each caramel-colored orb.

The air felt charged with a million volts. Her thinking grew cloudy. Were these angels? Was she daydreaming? How did anyone get to be this beautiful? She could sense their hostility, but something inside her felt warm and gooey. Snap to, Grape, she told herself. They want to hurt you.

Awww, look. It likes us, the twin with the goatee said. The clean-shaven twin’s face softened. Was that pity she saw in his hazel eyes?

Stop being mean, the redhead said, sounding more bored than angry.

I’m not being mean. Where’d you buy that shirt? Goatee asked. His quiet tone was laced with thorny edges.

Grape swallowed hard. The fuzz inside her head abated. Focus, she told herself, feeling like an idiot. I don’t know. Kohl’s maybe. She glanced down at her blouse. The shirt was a birthday present from her mother, and she wasn’t sure where it came from, but since her mother did most of her own shopping at Kohl’s, it seemed like a pretty safe guess.

Goatee turned toward his brother and smiled. Pay up.

Clean-Shaven shook his head at her as if she’d named the wrong store on purpose. He pulled a thick wad of cash from his pocket, peeled off a twenty, and handed it to Goatee. "I was sure it came from Kmart."

Why does it matter where I bought my shirt?

The raven-haired girl glanced out from her hiding place in her boyfriend’s embrace. It just looked familiar. I wore the same shirt. Three years ago. She smiled, but there was no kindness when she bared her teeth. Before it was a knockoff. The girl hid her face against her boyfriend’s pecs. Their chests rose and fell at the same time, breathing as one.

Okay. Well, I don’t really buy designer clothes. Grape wanted to have a witty comeback, but she still