“Um… okay?”
That was bizarre. How did Ms. O’Shea know that Ridley had written down that federalism question on her copy of the syllabus?
Just outside Room 232R, the hallway swirled with students heading to their third-period classes. Penelope stopped and started to turn right; then she pivoted left, bumping into Ridley. Ridley blushed as she stepped away.
“Sorry! I am such a klutz. Which way do we go?” Penelope asked.
“That way,” Ridley said, pointing right. Why was her face so hot? “So, do you have Señora Quintana for Spanish? Everyone says she’s—”
“Pen! Penelope!”
A guy strolled up to them. He wore a white polo shirt and khakis, and he looked like an Instagram model.
Oh, right. He had been talking to the new girl this morning. Colter something.
“How’s it going? How are your classes?” He draped his arm around Penelope’s shoulder and kissed her hair.
Penelope leaned into the curve of his arm. “Good! Do you guys know each other? Colter, this is Ridley. Ridley, this is my boyfriend, Colter.”
Colter thrust out a hand and beamed at Ridley. “Awesome to meet you, Ridley.”
Ridley took his hand and shook it. His grip was warm and strong, but she barely registered it. Her brain was still stuck on the words my boyfriend.
“Awesome to meet you, too. Oh my gosh, I forgot my French textbook in my locker,” Ridley lied. Suddenly she had to get out of there ASAP. “See you later, Penelope.”
“Okay, see you later!”
“Nice meeting you,” Ridley added to Colter, even though she’d already told him that, then turned on her heel and headed in the opposite direction.
It’s been ages since I had a crush, she thought. The last time had been in eighth grade, back in Cleveland; she and Natashya had dated for a few months before everything fell apart.
But that was back then. And now here she was, having her first crush in ages, and the girl already had a boyfriend.
Ridley stopped and U-turned in the middle of the hallway. The third-period bell was about to ring, and she had to get all the way to Room 291R.
As she doubled back past the history classroom, she saw Ms. O’Shea standing in the doorway.
Watching her.
What the hex?
And then an odd, random thought occurred to Ridley. She’d run into Ms. Hua over the summer at the grocery store—in July?—and she hadn’t looked pregnant. Was she really on maternity leave? Or had something happened to her?
Stop being so paranoid, Ridley chided herself.
Still.
She glanced over her shoulder. Ms. O’Shea was gone.
5 HOT AND COLD
Our minds are more powerful than you may think.
(FROM THE GOOD BOOK OF MAGIC AND MENTALISM BY CALLIXTA CROWE)
“I’m so glad that you were able to meet with me this morning. Thanks for giving up part of your study hall!”
Mrs. Feathers leaned forward on her bright blue yoga ball and smiled kindly at Iris. She reached across her desk for a small brown ceramic bowl.
“Can I offer you some M&M’s? They’re kind of my weakness.”
Iris hesitated; sugar could sometimes make her even more anxious and agitated than usual. “Maybe just one. Thanks, I mean, thank you!”
She started to pick up a yellow one, then gravitated to a green one instead. But what about the red, or the orange? Argh, it was impossible to decide.
“I have a hard time with choices,” she admitted as her hand hovered over the bowl. “My therapist, Francesca—well, actually, she’s not my therapist anymore, but she was my therapist back in New York City—she says it’s because I’m worried about making the wrong choice and then being locked into that choice, and then what? What if I pick the yellow M&M, but I was really supposed to pick the red one, but it’s too late and I can’t go back and un-eat the yellow M&M… well, I could, technically, but that would be gross and really rude, right? Like, what am I going to do, spit it out and go for the red one instead?”
Mrs. Feathers nodded sympathetically. “You can take all the time you need to pick out your M&M. Or take one of each color. Or take the whole bowl. Or I can put the bowl away for now and you can decide later, when you feel ready. This is an M&M-safe space.” She smiled again.
Iris had no idea what an “M&M-safe space” was, but that was okay. Mrs. Feathers, who exuded a sort of hippie-grandma aura, seemed nice. Nicer than Mr. Zabel, the social worker at her old school, who used to make a sour-pickle face whenever Iris showed up at his office (which was often).
Iris made herself do some therapy-breathing and settle back in her chair. She felt less crazy and chaotic than she had this morning before homeroom. She hadn’t run into the mean guy with the Antima shoulder patch again, and she hadn’t seen any of the three girls she’d felt watching her, either.
Although she hadn’t gotten an Antima vibe off of them.
Was it possible… could they be witches, too? Iris had never had a witch friend; it would be so cool to have witch friends to hang with.
“So I just wanted to say hi and introduce myself and all that,” Mrs. Feathers said. “If you’d like, I can also go over your IEP with you and make sure you know what accommodations you’re entitled to. I plan to touch base with all of your teachers, as well.”
“Does the IEP have the thing about loud noises? Because of my sensory processing disorder? I think my mom had that added last year.”
Mrs. Feathers typed something on her computer keyboard. The computer was beige and boxy and ancient-looking. “Yes, it’s definitely on your IEP. We have noise-reducing headphones in every classroom for use during tests and quiet work time and whenever else you might need them. We can also give you
