by Kim Tomsic
“I can’t believe I told you about Rhena and science yesterday, and then you danced off and had lunch with that group of fakes.”
Explain.
“You could’ve eaten with Noelle, or Erin, or anybody else,” she said.
My phone vibrated. Piper needs to chill. Again, I hit decline without looking.
“Oh, do you need to get that? It could be Rhena. I hear your goal is to sabotage the flashmob, too.”
“That’s not true!”
“Really? Because I hear you’ve just been pretending to be my friend all week to set me up for the fall.” Ally stuck a book in front of her face. The rain came harder. Thunder cracked in the distance.
“Ally—” A text vibrated my phone. This time I looked. Dad—
Dad: Call me ASAP. It’s about Grams.
CHAPTER
38
ASAP? Worry vacuumed the air from my chest.
“Who would like to pass these out for me?” Mrs. Matthews asked the class.
“Excuse me,” I said. “May I go to the restroom?”
She seemed ready to say no, but something about my face must’ve changed her mind. “Please take the hall pass.”
I grabbed the yellow wooden pass hanging near the door and rushed down the empty hallway. I ducked into the bathroom, dialing Dad’s number, Mom’s guitar pick already clutched in my hand.
He answered on the first ring.
“Dad?” I asked nervously.
“Megan, honey.” Dad sniffed.
I waited, heart in throat.
“It’s your grandmother. She . . . she’s been in an accident. She broke her leg and they have to operate.”
“But she’s going to be okay, right?”
“Of course, of course.” Dad’s voice sounded strained. “They just have to be cautious. It’s a pretty severe break, and at her age they have to be careful about an embolism.”
“Embolism! That’s a blood clot, right?” Tears stung my eyes. “It could travel to her lungs or brain and kill her!”
“I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. Your grandmother is a strong woman. They are just being cautious.”
He didn’t sound confident. “Look, a nurse called from the hospital in Drôme, France, and when they put your grandmother on the line she insisted on talking to you. I tried calming her down, but the more she asked for you the more agitated she got. The nurse thinks if you spoke with her, it would help calm her down and lower her blood pressure before surgery. Talking with you seems to be her single focus. Are you able to go to your school’s office and get permission to make the call immediately?”
“Yes. Of course. Text me the number, and I’ll call right now.”
Dad’s phone line clicked. “Hold on. That could be them on the other line.”
I waited in the silence, turning the pick with my thumb.
“Megan?” Dad said when he returned. “I’m sorry.”
“What! What happened?”
“The doctors had to rush her to surgery.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure.” His voice wobbled. “My French isn’t that great. The nurse said an English-speaking doctor would call me as soon as possible.”
“She’s going to be fine, right?” I forced myself to take a breath.
“Honestly, we don’t know.”
“Please, just text me the number. I’ll call now. Maybe they’re just getting her ready.”
Dad’s other line clicked again. “I’m sorry. That’s the hospital.” Click.
“Dad?”
He’d hung up.
I leaned against the gray bathroom wall and sunk down to the floor, propping my head against my bent knees. Tears streamed down my cheeks. What could I do? I wrapped my arms around my shins and stayed that way until my nose got too stuffy to breathe. Finally, I got up and blew my nose, threw cold water on my face, dried up with a paper towel, and returned to the math room.
I zoned out for the rest of class, the storm my sullen backdrop. A crack of thunder made me tune back in. A classmate tapped my shoulder on her way out and said, “Can’t wait for the flashmob.”
Class was over, and most of the students had already left, Ally included.
My eyes felt swollen and puffy, but I couldn’t worry or even care about how I might look. I’d be wishing soon, and I needed to get my thoughts together. Mrs. Matthews tried to speak to me, but I rushed down the hall and around the corner to fourth period—to the clock. When I walked into history, the classroom had been rearranged. The Smart Board had been moved to the center, instead of at its normal angled position. And it completely blocked any possible view of the cat clock.
“Why is that there?” My voice screeched.
Mr. Kersey stepped forward. “I thought it’d be nice to change things up a bit.”
I grabbed my phone from my pocket and clicked to my clock app. Maybe wishing in this room at the right time would still work.
“Megan,” Mr. Kersey said. “Megan.”
I looked up. His eyebrows rose, and he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Yes?” I looked back at my phone, enlarged the clock, and switched to digital mode with a seconds reader.
“Excuse me. Megan? I asked you to power that thing off.”
“What?” My head shot up.
“No phones during class time.”
Thunder popped outside. My hope fizzled away.
“All the way off.”
I pressed the off button and watched my phone power down.
Mr. Kersey handed out a worksheet and told us we could use our notes to find the answers. I squirmed and fidgeted. The rain beat against the outside of the windows. Crunch. The broken gray tip of my pencil rolled off the desk. I slogged to the pencil sharpener, feeling utter doom. But when I leaned in to use the sharpener, I realized that if I angled my head I could see the cat clock! It was 11:04.
My adrenaline surged. I returned to my seat. Rhena was watching me, but I didn’t care. I tried to count seconds in my head. Okay. It’s probably 11:09 or 11:10. I crunched my pencil lead and returned to the sharpener, Rhena following my every step.
Only 11:07.
Mr. Kersey gave me an odd look. I sat back down, tapping my foot to the imagined beat of a clock. I’ve got to time this just right. I crunched my pencil lead a third time, walked to the sharpener, and checked the clock.
“Megan?” Mr. Kersey said.
Eleven ten.
“Last time, sir. I promise.”
Rhena got up and walked over to a bookshelf on the opposite side of the Smart Board. She leaned in to see the clock, too.
The second hand was halfway to the wishing minute.
“Are you done?” Mr. Kersey asked.
“Almost.” I dropped my pencil, squatted, grabbed it, slowly tied my shoelace. Rhena pulled a dictionary from the shelf, opening it without checking the page. Our eyes met for a brief moment and then mine went back to the clock. Seconds dragged, until the time struck 11:11. My knuckles were ready, but it didn’t matter, since the thunder outside made the crack and pop. The classroom lights flickered and students jumped.
“Whoa!” Mr. Kersey said.
Rhena didn’t move. Her eyes were closed, lips moving.
The thunder continued rumbling. It cracked, popped, and sizzled. Lightning flashed, filling the classroom with a burst of white, and with the next snap of thunder I whispered, “Pop. Click. Seconds tick. Wish at eleven-eleven, and watch it stick.” I threw out one wish—the single, most important plea of my life: Please, please, please let my grandma get better.
CHAPTER
39
The bell rang.
I powered up my phone.
Dad: GRAMS IS DOING GREAT!!!
I exhaled. The cat clock ticktocked like it was no big deal. “Thank you,” I said before hurrying into the hallway.
I had to find Ally and apologize for promising a flashmob, since I hadn’t delivered the masks after all; and I had to let her know about Rhena
bragging about the cheating accusation. Maybe it’d be too little too late, but I had to try to explain.
Mrs. Matthews walked toward me in the busy hallway, searching my face. “Megan, are you feeling all right?” I stopped, and she rested orange-stained fingers on my shoulder. “Can I help you with anything?”
“Meow.” I grabbed my throat. “Meow.” It had really happened! I knew the risk, and it had really happened. Wishing costs were cumulative. Plus, the whole exchange in energy—you get something from the Magicverse, you have to give something in return. My last wish was a big one, and now my voice was gone completely.
“Okay then?” Motherly concern spread across Mrs. Matthews’s face. “You know where you can find me.”
My phone was still clutched in my hand from texting Dad. I had texted real words, not meows, so at least there was that.
Students rushed past, amped and saying stuff about how they were on their way to the cafeteria for the flashmob. “You’re the best, Megan!”
I pressed my back against the wall and typed a message to Ally:
Me: I’m sorry about the masks. I really meant to have some.
Me: I’m sorry that you felt betrayed when I had lunch w/rhena.
Me: It probably feels I like I don’t care about the mess she caused u w/ mr. provost but I do.
Maybe apologizing through a text was lame, but I kept hitting send.
Me: Also—I KNOW you didn’t cheat. Obvi.
Me: Can we meet in the cafeteria? I’ll let everyone know the flashmob fiasco is my fault.
My shoulders dropped. I didn’t know how I’d let everyone know it was my fault without a voice, but I’d mime it out if I had to.
The hallway traffic had thinned. Down by the water fountain, Rhena and the Rhenites were circled up, probably gossiping about someone.
The time had come for me to deal with Rhena. Even if I had to write down every word. I cracked my neck, hooked my thumbs in my backpack straps, and marched toward them.
“Hey, Megan,” one of the Rhenites said.
The way they all smiled made me cringe. Now what?
“I got my teacher to let me out of class before the bell rang,” Shelby said, “in case you came through with masks. But you didn’t. I guess you’re on Team Rhena after all.”
“You are?” Yoona asked, walking up at that moment.
“Yep. She didn’t deliver squat.” Shelby stepped aside and made room for us in the circle. “Nice job sabotaging the flashmob.”
I shook my head no. “Me . . . Meo.”
“Yep, you,” Rhena said, patting my back. “What’d you do? Tell Ally you had it all handled so you could lull her into failure? Good one.”
“I know, right?” a Rhenite added. “I mean, you sort of had us all fooled into believing you were really going to help Ally.”
My head spun. Was that how it looked?
“At least we know Rhena will win the election now,” Shelby said. “You made Ally look like such a joke.”
“Oh, I’m going to win. It’s guaranteed. Right, Megan?” Rhena winked at me. The Rhenites, minus Yoona, smiled.
“MMm.” I felt like a muzzled dog. “Mmmm.”
Nobody cared that I was trying to speak. “MMMmm.”
In the past, I wanted to blend in and hoped nobody would ask my opinion. Now I realized how stupid that had been—how could someone know if they liked the real me if all I did was agree? All week long, I’d given my power away by trying to impress, trying to please, or trying to be someone I wasn’t. The frustration of being struck silent with so much to say made me desperate for the chance speak up now.
“Shouldn’t we hurry to the cafeteria to vote?” Shelby asked.
“No need to rush.” Rhena stretched and yawned. “That loser won’t have any votes.”
I looked around the circle more closely to see if that comment made anyone else cringe—a few girls shifted uncomfortably. They might be Rhena’s friends, but some of them liked Ally, too. Still, no one said anything until Yoona, in a teeny-tiny voice, asked, “Are you okay, Megan?”
I opened my mouth. “Meow.”
Yoona’s eyebrows went up. Rhena and Shelby didn’t care what I said or that I meowed. They were too busy throwing shade on the next person.
“. . . such a loser,” Shelby said.
“And did you see how bad Brit’s face broke out?” Rhena said.
“She really needs to try Proactiv,” said a Rhenite.
“We should call her Zit instead of Brit,” Shelby said.
Listening to the gossip had made me part of it. Just like when nobody spoke up for me at my last school when Ronald and Brooke had made me feel smaller than a microbe.
I dropped my chin. Come on, voice. I get it now. I’d wasted too much time sitting silent and letting Rhena speak for me.
Please. I squeezed my eyes shut. Please, if I can just talk, I promise to speak up and never give my voice to anyone else again.
I tried. “Meow.” A kitten sound. “Meow.” Nobody gave me a glance. I put my hands on my hips, and as loud as I could I said, “MEOW!”
Conversation stopped.
“Meow.” I didn’t care if I looked dumb. “Meoooow!” I had something important to say and I wasn’t willing to give up. “Meoooooooow!”
“Megan?” Yoona said. “Do you want to sit down for a minute?”
A circle of shocked faces stared at me. Heat lit up my neck and cheeks. But I shook my head no. “Meow. Meow. Meoooow.” My voice sounded high-pitched and scorched. My mouth was dry, but again I tried. “Meeooooow.” And then finally, fantastically, I heard myself say, “Rhena.” It was a word! A real word! “Could I talk to you for a minute?”
“Uh, Megan. You’re being weird,” Rhena said. “I’m not sure if this is how things worked at your last school—the freaky-cat announcement—but it’s not how things work here.” Her face was smug. “And FYI, you don’t have to ask permission to speak. Go ahead.”
Blood galloped to my heart, but unless I had a full coronary attack, I wasn’t going to be too scared to talk. “I mean can we speak one-on-one?” I didn’t want to call out Rhena in front of her squad.
“No.”
“It’s private,” I said.
“Say what you have to say here.”
I swallowed and looked at the group. Most of them had been at the sushi lunch. They knew what had happened. Someone had to agree with me. I searched for a friendly face in the crowd, but the girls either stared holes through the floor or crossed their arms and smirked.
“We really should get to the cafeteria,” Yoona said, her face begging me to bench this conversation.
“Stop,” Rhena said forcefully. “Let’s hear what Megan has to say.”
“Umm . . .” Now or never. “Don’t you think lying about Ally cheating off you has gone on long enough?”
Everyone got quiet. Only Yoona gave a slight nod.
Then Rhena laughed. “You’re joking, right?”
“No, I’m not. You could tell Mr. Provost that you made a mistake, or you were pranking and you didn’t think it would go this far. There’s still time to work this out.”
“I think you’re misunderstanding, because one, she cheated, and two, I don’t care about Ally and her problems.”
“But it’s not true. She didn’t try to cheat off you.”
“That’s your opinion.”
“My opinion? It’s the truth. You said so yourself.” I looked around the group for confirmation but got zip. “Really? You’re all going to act like you have nothing to say? Come on! Speak up.”
Crickets.
Rhena held the group’s collective voice captive. It made me all the more determined to never be silent again.
“I don’t know what you think you heard,” Rhena said, “but it’s my word against yours.” She leaned over and took a sip from the water fountain. “And you should probably keep your mouth shut.”
Keeping my mouth shut was no longer part of the plan. But I didn’t know
what to say next.
“All right, girls. To the cafeteria,” Rhena said.
The weight of giving up started settling on my shoulders.
“Megan,” Yoona said, “if you want, I could—”
“Will you stop all that talking, Yoona?” Rhena said. “Your voice is grating on my nerves.”
Yoona looked crushed, and it reminded me that Hannah had always stood by my side. Even when I snorted. Even when I lied.
“I like hearing what you have to say, Yoona,” I said. “And Rhena.” I shook my head. “Get over your need to make everyone feel lame. You might think that makes you appear superior.” Pause. “But trust me, it doesn’t.” The bewildered group waited for a cue from Rhena.
“You need to watch your—” Rhena started.
But I cut her off. “Why is stabbing people in the back your specialty? Or is lying your specialty? I mean, you’re definitely good at it.”
Shelby gasped.
“Here.” I whipped out my phone. “Let me show you what you sound like when you brag about what a super-convincing liar you are.” I opened the video app with the recording of Rhena and pressed play, holding it forward for them to see. There was Rhena in bragging mode, laughing about her lie to Mr. Provost.
Nobody gasped. Nobody was surprised by what they’d heard, but some heads bowed. Maybe they felt ashamed, too.
“Look how pathetic we all were,” I said.
“So what.” Rhena smirked.
I stopped the video and shook my head. “Rhena, you’re pretty. You’re smart. Sometimes you’re even fun. You don’t have to be like this.”
Rhena’s mouth twitched like maybe I’d gotten through to her. But the moment quickly passed, and she narrowed her eyes, dismissing me with a “Whatever.”
But I wasn’t done. “It’s no longer my word against yours.” I waved my phone. “Either you can tell Mr. Provost the truth, or I will. By the end of the day.” I crossed my arms over my chest, burying my shaking hands. Even with the jitters, speaking up felt way better than hiding.
Rhena blinked for a moment, clearly not used to being crossed.
I took that chance to walk the other way. “I’m going to find Ally.”
When I got halfway down the hallway, Rhena’s voice erupted in a screech. “You’re going to be sorry.”
