The 11

by Kim Tomsic

  “Epic!” Erin echoed. “Spirit Week elections and you’ll make Ally the cherry in a room full of avocados!”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind doing all the planning on your own?” Ally asked.

  I had magic. I didn’t mind at all. “Nope. Just tell me what else I can do for your election and I’m there for you.”

  “You guys,” Erin said. “The bell rang.”

  “See you later,” I said, still coughing from that tickle in my throat.

  “Later?” Ally said. “Aren’t you coming with us?”

  “Huh?”

  “For the election speeches,” Noelle said. “At the all-school assembly.”

  “Right! I forgot about the adjusted schedules.”

  “Come on. Sit with us,” Ally said.

  We headed down the hall toward the gym.

  I coughed again. The tickle in my throat wouldn’t go away, so when I spotted the water fountain outside the gym doors I said, “I’ll find you guys inside.” I jiggled my empty water bottle. “I need a refill.”

  Ally told me where they’d be sitting and said, “We’ll save you a seat.”

  I hurried to the line at the water fountain, untwisting the lid of my bottle.

  Suddenly, a sharp pain crunched through my big toe.

  “Ow.” I grimaced.

  Rhena stepped off my foot and in line in front of me. “Whoops.” She smiled. “I have a speech to make, so I’ll need to go ahead of you.”

  Yoona drifted to the outside of the line and shot me an apologetic glance.

  I bent my toes, testing the bones. Why didn’t the perfume affect them? It was supposed to help me make friends.

  “You smell nice,” Yoona said, not chatty and confident like she had been at the Humane Society, but nervous, like speaking in front of Rhena was a big stretch.

  “You smell like an old lady’s herb garden,” Shelby said.

  “Exactly.” Rhena laughed.

  The perfume obviously wasn’t making Rhena and Shelby like me. Grams did say the clockmakers had a tricky sense of humor. And the magic never did exactly what I asked for.

  So if the perfume didn’t work that way, it meant everyone else had been nice on their own. They’d laughed along with my snorts and were interested in me before the flashmob talk and without the perfume’s help.

  Even though Rhena and Shelby were mean-girling me, I couldn’t help but feel a little happy.

  Still, I’d signed for something. The hair on my neck bristled.

  “You really think you’ll be ready for Friday, huh?” Rhena said. “Well, here. Let me give you this helpful reminder.” She whipped out a Sharpie from the side of her backpack, grabbed my hand, and scratched a big “2” across it in black ink, pressing harder than necessary.

  “Two days till Friday,” Shelby said, all singsongy. “Tick tock.”

  CHAPTER

  23

  I texted Hannah.

  Me: SOS I REPEAT SOS!!!!! NEED FLASHMOB IDEA PRONTO!!!

  Me: T minus two days!!!!!!!

  Me: ASAP!!!!

  I rushed into the gym, stressing about how fast Friday would come and also worrying about what the perfume magic had in store.

  Students sat crushed together on the bleachers. Blue and red banners hung from the ceiling, showing off the years when the Saguaro Mustangs had won different championships. A huge painted red horse covered the center of the glossy wooden floor. The faculty stood near entrances, talking and sipping from coffee mugs. Energy and chatter buzzed from all directions.

  Principal Scoggins spoke into a microphone. “People, take a seat.” His voice crackled from the speakers.

  I looked to where my friends had said they’d be seated and saw Jackson with Tank and Wigglesworth, laughing and trying to organize their section to do the wave. So cute.

  Ally was seated a few rows behind them and called my name. “Megan, Megan! Up here.”

  I hurried up several giant bleacher steps and squeezed in between Erin and Noelle.

  “Stop searching for your friends,” Principal Scoggins said, “and just take the first spot you see. Now.” About a dozen stragglers plopped down wherever they were standing.

  I searched the sea of faces for Piper, hoping she’d see me surrounded by friends so she’d know there was more to my middle school world than slipping in dog poop.

  “Where did Turner sit?” Ally asked. “Is tech club doing sound and lights or should we save a seat for him?”

  Mia and Erin shrugged.

  “Hellooooooo, Mustangs!” Mr. Scoggins said into the microphone. “Welcome. We have a lot in store for you this morning. I know you’re excited about our upcoming Spirit Week, so we’ll get announcements out of the way quickly, then we’ll move on to election speeches, followed by a brief presentation by our spirit club. We’ll end with an act by our comedy duo, Mosquitos Suck.”

  The crowd roared.

  “Okay. Okay. Let’s get through these announcements.”

  Mr. Scoggins blazed through his list and then thanked the tech and engineering clubs for manning the music. This must’ve been their cue, because the sound of bugles and drums blasted from the speakers, and if Mom had taught me correctly, I was hearing “Ruffles and Flourishes.”

  Mr. Scoggins’ voice grew animated, “As you all know, Spirit Week has been a longtime Saguaro Prep tradition, dating back to the founding of our school in 1978.”

  The crowd whooped and stomped their feet.

  Like a conductor, Mr. Scoggins held a lifted hand toward the invisible tech club. When his arm swung down, another musical piece pumped out of the speakers. The crowd cheered, and Noelle leaned to me and said, “That’s Saguaro Prep’s school song.”

  It continued playing in the background while Mr. Scoggins delivered his speech. “Tradition holds that we kick off Spirit Week with our election on Friday. Events will continue through to the end of the following Friday.”

  The crowd cheered again.

  “A representative from every grade will be elected; however, there will be only one Spirit Week Captain. The Spirit Week Captain gets to choose—”

  “Dictate!” someone shouted from the crowd.

  Mr. Scoggins laughed with the crowd. “Yes. It’s true, the Spirit Captain gets to dictate what we wear, eat, and do for a full week as it pertains to spirit, so choose wisely.” He raised his eyebrows above his glasses. “Voting will take place this Friday in the cafeteria. Please note, we will host an all-school lunch during fifth period to announce the winner.”

  More cheering and foot stomping shook the bleachers.

  “As custom holds, specific themes may not be part of the campaign, but are revealed after the election.”

  This earned some groans from the crowd.

  “No complaining,” Mr. Scoggins said to the groaners. The song came to an end. “All you have to do is cast your vote wisely for a leader who you believe will foster school spirit through our three Cs: Creativity, Community, and Camaraderie.”

  Wigglesworth and Tank lifted fists in the air and shouted, “Triple C! Triple C!”

  Jackson joined them. “Triple C! Triple C!”

  Quickly, the crowd was chanting, “Triple C! Triple C!”

  Mr. Scoggins let it go on for half a minute; then Coach Crosby blew her whistle.

  Mr. Scoggins spoke again. “I love the enthusiasm, which provides the perfect segue to the candidate speeches. Entrants, you’ll each get one minute to convince us why you’re the best candidate to govern Spirit Week. Let’s begin with the most important office, Spirit Captain. Candidates, please come forward.”

  Ally rose, climbed down a few bleacher steps, and crossed the wooden gym floor. Rhena stood on the other side of Mr. Scoggins.

  “The seventh grade has put forth two candidates for Captain this year: Ally Menendez and Rhena Thornsmith. Going alphabetically, we’ll hear from Miss Menendez first.” Mr. Scoggins passed the microphone to Ally.

  Our group clapped and cheered.

  “
Woot woot! Hey, fellow Mustangs!”

  The crowd roared.

  “So hey. The year’s starting out awesome. Yearbook club had a great turnout and spirit club is about to teach us some chants. Now all we have to do is make some memories.”

  The crowd clapped and gave another woot.

  “As your Spirit Week Captain, I promise to make spirit my focus not just for next week but all year long. I’ll support all the sports teams. In fact, don’t forget we have a home football game on Saturday. Come out and show your Mustang pride and buy something at the bake sale.”

  Students in front of me, beside me, and behind me cheered and clapped.

  “And I promise to have more school dances and liven things up around here. Thank you!” Our group stood, screaming Ally’s name.

  Rhena went next. She listed off campaign promises, receiving her share of applause, and added, “And Mustangs, I have an exciting announcement. Jackson Litner is joining my campaign ticket, so a vote for me is a vote for Jackson. We’re running as a team—your Queen and King.”

  More cheers erupted.

  Jackson stood up, smiling and seeming genuinely surprised by all the applause. My heart sank. Were they more than best friends?

  “And one more thing to cover,” she said. “Yesterday, in the seventh-grade quad, we made an announcement.”

  Now what?

  “It really should’ve been an all-school announcement. You see, one of our new students was Ally’s very first zappee. Her name is Megan Meyers—wave, Megan—”

  Panic tornadoed through my body. Erin nudged me like the attention was a good thing, but I could feel this spiraling down a no-good track at a velocity that matched the speed of light, aka 299,792,458 meters per second.

  Noelle pointed my way. Heads shifted.

  “Did everyone like the snow?” Rhena asked.

  Cheers. More applause.

  I interlaced my fingers and squeezed.

  “I thought you would. And of course, I was instrumental in helping Megan plan that little event. I’m calling it Saguaro Prep’s First Annual Snow Day, and I plan to bring it to our school every year.”

  My eyebrows shot up. She planned it?

  “What?” Noelle and Mia screamed.

  “She’s a lying lima bean!” Erin hollered.

  Applause exploded around us. Ally shook her head and reached to grab the mic back, but Rhena had control and pushed on.

  “Megan had sort of a meltdown,” Rhena said. “Being put on the spot and all, so of course I helped her. It’s what any good leader does.”

  Seriously? She’s taking credit and making me look lame? I stared at the faculty. Stop her, my brain screamed. Isn’t her minute up?

  Mr. Scoggins was busy directing late arrivals, and the row of teachers seemed to have tuned out, grading papers or looking at their phones.

  “Most of you probably haven’t met Megan yet, because she’s pretty shy.” Rhena nodded with an apologetic smile, making her voice all sweet while she delivered the next dose of venom. “Some even say she’s mousy, so let’s not put heavy expectations on her. I mean, she said she’d do something else on Friday, but unless I’m behind that, too, she’ll probably choke.”

  My backpack vibrated against my legs with crazed energy. The magazine practically screamed for me to take it out, and this time I didn’t hesitate. I leaned down and peeled back the zipper. Enchanted Teen jetted to the top.

  Rhena went on, getting laughs from the crowd at my expense.

  Enchanted Teen battered the side of my leg, frenetic and wild. I grabbed it to my lap, and it sprung open, right to the “How to Deal with a Mean Girl” article. Rhena fit the bill—first with the un-invitation and now this public shaming.

  Mr. Scoggins returned to the center of the gym floor, tapped his watch, and motioned for Rhena to return the microphone. She turned a shoulder on him. “And so when you vote, remember that I was the leader for the zap, I gave you the snow, I . . .”

  “Okay?” I whispered to the magazine. “I don’t know why I should trust you, but please work. Please stop her.”

  “Or you could vote for Ally.” Rhena put her mouth close to the mic and fake-yawned. “I mean, you’ve met Ally, right?”

  Here goes nothing. I slapped a hand to the article. Typeface from that strange gibberish tagline lifted from the page and hovered in the air. The words floated, swirled, and then zoomed in a flash, spinning around Rhena’s head and then right inside her mouth, invisible to everybody except me.

  “So remember, how you vote on Fff—flibbertigibbet.” Rhena paused. “Flibberty—” She looked confused, and she tapped the microphone like it was playing tricks on her. Then she tried again. “CrinoseFlibbertigibbetFlapdoodleSingultusCacographyPalabra.”

  Students around me turned to one another, clearly wondering if they should laugh or wait for a punch line. I squeezed the edge of the magazine pages to keep my hands from trembling.

  Rhena looked panicked.

  Ally zoomed three steps to Rhena and snatched the microphone. “Okay, Rhena? That’s a little odd. But let me add that Megan’s snow day was fun. And Mustangs,” Ally said to the assembly, “that was all Megan. Not Rhena. Not me. Just Megan. She’s awesome, am I right?”

  My face burned at the sound of applause.

  “She’s creative. They called her the Fun-meister at her last school!”

  I stared down at my knuckles.

  “In fact,” Ally said, “this is kind of spur-of-the-moment, but with her level of creativity, I think Megan would make a great Spirit Week Co-Captain.”

  I gawked at Ally. What was she doing?

  Ally smiled at me from across the room. “Megan, I hope you don’t mind me putting you on the spot, but you said you wanted to be more involved, so what do you think?”

  The noise in the gym made my ears ring. Erin patted my back and Noelle was smiling and nodding and nodding and nodding until I nodded back, mirroring her, not really processing what I was nodding about, and then Ally pumped her fist and said, “Yes! That’s awesome! You hear that, folks? Vote Ally and Megan. A vote for us is a vote for Team Free Spirit!”

  What?

  Noelle, Mia, and Erin were on their feet, arms raised in the air. The students in front of me screamed and clapped. The kids beside me whistled. People on my left stomped their feet and cheered, and as the noise grew louder Ally paced to the other side of the gym floor, away from Mr. Scoggins. “Mustangs,” she bellowed into the mic, “I can assure you Megan will not choke. In fact, wait till you see what Megan and I have planned for Election Day. We don’t have all the particulars just yet, but if you thought the snow was fun, get ready, because next up, Flashmob Friday!”

  More noise. More applause. A flustered Mr. Scoggins zigzagged after Ally and the microphone.

  “So that’s in two days, Mustangs. And for any seventh grader interested in joining in on the Free Spirit Flashmob, I’m setting up a closed group on my social media. Send me a message and I’ll give you the details. All other grades, prepare to be surprised and delighted.” Ally hurried her last words out. “Get ready. Friday is going to be legendary!”

  Mr. Scoggins finally seized the microphone, but nobody could hear him. The room had gone insane, students cheering, wooting, whistling, clapping.

  “Come on,” Erin screamed. “Let’s move over here and sit with Tank’s group.”

  Erin, Noelle, and Mia walked down a few bleacher steps. Somebody tapped my shoulder. I turned around and Yoona spoke close to my ear, her words rushing out. “Things would go smoother if Rhena wasn’t so worried about you becoming too popular. Just tone it down a bit.”

  Then Shelby sidled in beside Yoona, shaking her head and speaking to me in a voice that traveled under the crazed applause. “Ally’s just using you. You’ll see.”

  Rhena still stood on the gym floor, shaking her head and holding her throat. Slowly, I closed the magazine, and when I did, Rhena let go of her neck.

  The screaming crowd, the magic, Shelb
y’s words—my head already hurt. I looked at the magazine in my lap. The yellow blurb on the cover read, “Expired Issue.”

  CHAPTER

  24

  When the assembly ended, I let Yoona and Shelby get some distance before I started walking toward history to cue up my wish. Hannah still hadn’t replied to my text, so I tried again.

  Me: Didn’t you see my SOS. I need a Hannah-esque plan for a flashmob!!!

  Hannah: Search YouTube?

  Me: No can do. I need something original

  Hannah: Okay. Kind of busy rt now . . .

  Busy? Geez. I had only two days until Flashmob Friday. Ideally, I’d have liked to make a wish ASAP to get the stress out of the way. I decided that’s precisely what I would do at 11:11. But this meant leaving the flashmob decision to the clock. Oh well. Fine. Probably better than fine based on how awesome the other wishes had turned out. All I had to do was launch the wish and have the drama behind me.

  Far down the hall and in between the crush of students, I caught sight of a fuzzy pink feather bobbing and bouncing off the end of a pen that stuck out of someone’s backpack. It swished. It swayed. It practically teased me to chase it.

  It was like someone pressed a go button on me. I hunched my back and picked up the pace, shoulder-bumping anyone in my path.

  The feather wove in between students, whooshing left and right, goading me forward.

  I closed in.

  The feather danced. It taunted. It dared.

  I pounced, grabbing the girl by the shoulders and snatching the feather in between my teeth, plume in mouth, pen dangling to the side.

  “What are you doing?” the girl screamed.

  The girl being Rhena, of course.

  People around us took backward steps.

  My fingers released. Jaw unclamped. “Uhhh.” I removed the feather from my mouth and silently offered it back. What was going on with me?

  “Gross.” Rhena wiped her arms as if a basset hound had just slobbered all over her. “Keep it, weirdo.” She hurried ahead of me.

  With chin tucked, I tossed the pen into the garbage and followed behind. There I was, the other half of Team Free Spirit, spitting out bits of pink feather stuck in the corner of my mouth. But maybe I’d just finished paying the price for using unstable magazine magic at the assembly. My breathing relaxed. Okay, that’s over. At least the cost was swift and behind me. Right? Still, a sense of looming disaster skulked under my skin.