I So Don't Do Spooky (2 page)

I push open the front door. With a long Olympic stride, I'm quickly halfway across the porch. Then, I trip.

Over a bouquet of bright-colored flowers.

Josh must've arranged for an early-morning delivery to surprise me. How incredibly sweet. How incredibly romantic. How incredibly grown-up. I grab the bouquet, poke my nose down in the flowers and take a big, huge sniff of love. Ahhh. Josh is so the best. Then I pluck out the oh-so-cute mini envelope, shove it in my pocket and lovingly lay the flowers back on the porch. I can't tote them around with me all day and I certainly don't have time to do the whole vase thing.

I'm off, racing toward school, racing toward a better start to the day, racing toward the love of my life, who I hope is still waiting at our meeting spot.

Huffing and puffing, I arrive at the lunch area and slump onto a bench. I hunch over the table, sucking in air. Breathe in. Breathe out. I lift my weary head. No Josh. Wah.

But waltzing toward me is Candy, an eighth grader sprinkled with what looks like an entire truckload of glitter. I can't even imagine why she's here. Everyone hangs out at the front of the school. Which is why Josh and I chose the lunch tables. For privacy.

Candy says, “You lookin' for Josh Morton?”

I nod, my breathing still all kicked up and cardio.

She juts her hip out to, like, Tucson. “He didn't wait for you.”

“What?” My heart folds in half as I push off the table and stand.

“Good thing I was here for him.”

I roll my eyes. No way Josh is interested in Glitter Girl. I'm right, right? I stick my hand in my pocket and finger the teeny card that came with the flowers. I'm right.

“We're doing an English project together.”

Big whopping deal. It's an English project, not a date.

Candy's totally focused on my face. “You might want to outline your lips before glossing. So they don't look as thin.”

My hand jumps to my mouth. No one's ever mentioned my lips and thin in the same sentence before. Then again, how credible is an overglittered girl with a ratty ponytail and a skirt the size of my math textbook?

“Anyway, Josh picked me as his partner. Specifically.” She swings out her other hip to, like, Flagstaff.

Yada yada yada. Everything's totally awesome between Josh and me. Well, okay, it hasn't been so intense lately. But that's 'cause he's juggling school and water polo and helping his dad out with the family landscaping business.

Suddenly, Candy is slanted way forward and stumbling toward the restroom. She throws her arms out, plants her feet on the pavement and bends her knees. It's like she's fighting against an invisible force.

I sniff the air. Yuppers. It's coffee. My mother has landed.

Baby step by baby step, Mom pushes Candy. Glitter sparkles in the air, floating on the breeze. Finally, Candy lurches across the threshold and into the restroom.

“It looked like she was giving you a hard time.” Mom's next to me now, sounding all proud of herself.

“Well, yeah, she was,” I say. “Thanks.”

“Oh, Sherry”—Mom's voice bubbles—“my skills are improving by leaps and bounds. Did you see how I got here all on my own, without your grandfather? And how I directed all my energy at that girl?” The metal bench creaks as my mom settles in.

“Wow, Mom, that's great.” I give a little shake at the thought of all this weirdness in my life. Still, weirdness beats no contact with my mother. Some days, I just wish we could chill and get our nails done together or something else mother-daughter normal. But that can't happen.

The first bell rings. I stand, swinging my backpack over my shoulder. “Nice to see you, Mom.”

She clears her throat. “Sherry, I'm here for a reason.”

This doesn't sound good. “What?”

Her words rush out. “We have an appointment with my guidance counselor today at noon.”

Both of us? At noon? That's when Josh and I have lunch. When I'll find out what he wants to tell me. “Noon doesn't really work for me.”

“It was an order. Apparently we need to discuss something ‘personal.'”

“Personal? Your personal? Or my personal? Because I can't think of anything personal to do with me that needs to be discussed with a ghost guidance counselor. So it must be your personal. Which means I don't have to be there at all.”

“The message said both of us, Sherry. And, believe me, you do not want to tangle with my guidance counselor.”

A breeze gusts through the lunch area. “Be at the Dairy Queen. In the back booth. At noon.” My mother's voice fades as she's blown away. She's still having trouble hanging on to locations.

I plod across campus. Not having a fun day here. No Josh time before school. A bummer run-in with Glitter Girl, who's obviously after my boy friend. A lunchtime meeting with a mean ghost guidance counselor. Nope. Definitely not enjoying this fine Friday.

I shove my hands in my pockets, and my right hand closes around the card from the flowers.

The second bell rings.

Second bell, schmecond bell. I deserve a romance pick-me-up. I stop walking. With my thumb and index finger, I gently tug on the tiny flap of the envelope and slide out the card. My heart pitter-pattering with love, I gaze down and read.

S
woon. Swoon. Swoon. I clutch the card to my chest.

A few minutes later, I'm jostling into line at the computer lab door.

Ahead of me, Honor Roll Girl says to Tongue-Stud Girl, “The Ruler's giving us the next project today. I can't wait to get started.” And she's not even being sarcastic.

Next project? The last one nearly killed me, as in a big, plump C. I positively must ace this one or I'll have to deal with The Ruler's extra help again.

Also, have these middle-grade teachers never heard of communication? Why pile on a bunch of work all at the same time? We have a massive science test
next week. And a French vocab quiz. And really hard homework. I want a life!

The bell rings.

Nerdy Nick says to me, “Think your friend'll make it on time?”

I don't answer him. It's my new strategy. Since the beginning of the school year, when Nerdy Nick and his entire nerdy family moved here, I've put up with his uncalled-for comments about my half-finished homework and less-than-stellar grades. I tried being nice. I tried being funny. Now I'm trying frosty.

I look over my shoulder. Jogging along the pathway is my best friend, Junie Carter. Hair flying out behind her and shirt all crooked, she's hunched forward with the effort of running. Junie is the opposite of athletic. But she's the definition of smart.

The classroom door opens and The Ruler says, “File in quietly and take your seats quickly. We have a lot to cover.”

Junie brakes to a stop, a shoe length away from crashing into me. “My dad had to get gas this morning.” With the back of her hand, she brushes hair off her sweaty forehead. “Come on.” She hitches up her backpack. “Let's go in. She's giving out the new assignment today.”

I shove the card at her. “Josh left flowers on the porch. It's our two-month anniversary.”

“Very cool.” She glances down at the card. “‘Happy
Anniversary!'” she reads aloud. “And a peace sign? He doesn't even sign his name?”

“'cause we're so tight.” Junie's not interested in guys, so there's a lot to do with dating, et cetera, that she doesn't get yet. Although I have to admit, the peace sign is something new.

“Junie. Sherry. Move along.” The Ruler's at the door, herding us in.

Junie hands me back the card.

The Ruler glances at it. She flushes. What's her problem anyway? It's not officially class time yet.

Junie and I scoot into back-row seats, adding to the general classroom noise of scraping chair legs, sliding metal zippers and rustling papers. This is the first week we haven't had assigned seating. And I'm loving it.

Arms crossed and feet shoulder-width apart, The Ruler stands guard, making sure we're all settling down. Once she's satisfied we're paying attention, she flips open her laptop.

“Let's talk about your next assignment.” She punches the On button. “This is the perfect opportunity for any of you who need to recover from a low grade on the ‘Hello, World' project.” She walks over to the wall and dims the lights. While the computer boots up, she's spouting all kinds of computery mumbo jumbo.

I yawn. Another one of The Ruler's boring PowerPoint
presentations. I slowly ease my phone from my pocket and thumb-type a text to Junie: I've barely pressed Send when a skinny shadow darkens my desk. The Ruler hawk-swoops down, grabs my cell with her talons, soars to her desk, slides open a drawer and drops in my precious phone. Which I won't get back till the end of the day. School rules.

Nerdy Nick wags his finger and silently tsk-tsks me.

Junie's scribbling in her notebook. Then she reaches into her pocket and pulls out her cell. My message has arrived. She eyeballs it and goes back to writing. When The Ruler's totally into answering a suck-up question from Honor Roll Girl, Junie mouths at me, “Another mystery?”

I shrug.

Technically, Junie shouldn't even know about my mother or the Academy. But I had this one really bad day, when I was totally overwhelmed by life, and I spilled.

The good news is, Junie can help with investigations. The bad news is, Mom's extremely talented ghost study group can't. All because the Academy uses this crazy Weight-Watchers-ish point system to figure out how much support the spiritual students get. And Junie, being human, uses up too many points. Like she's a double-double cheeseburger meal with a shake at In-N-Out Burger.

The Ruler's clicking on her mouse and droning in a language that sounds like English but makes no sense. “Blah, blah, blah, pull, blah, blah, stack, blah, algorithm.”

The remainder of the class goes by in a blur. Let's face it: the entire class went by in a blur. Which is totally understandable. I have a lot on my mind: Josh, Candy, freakish lips, lunchtime Dairy Queen meeting.

After the bell, I join a wave of students moving along the walkway. Junie stays behind to ask questions about the project. So I'm bobbing across campus and mentally scrolling through Josh's classes, a schedule I know better than the periodic table. Next he has social studies, which means he's going from English to social studies, which means he'll cross the courtyard, which means if I hang out near the tall, ugly, stone saguaro cactus statue, he'll pass by me.

Snippets of conversation manage to pierce through my calculations.

Tongue-Stud Girl says, “There's a robotics club meeting today, right?”

“In the shop room,” Honor Roll Girl says. “We better get on top of things if we're going to kill Donner Middle School again this year.”

“I heard they're out to get us,” Tongue-Stud Girl says. “'cause we made it to the world championships last year. And they didn't.”

Nerdy Nick says, “They better get used to the idea.”

Last year was the first time The Ruler took over the club. It was also the first time that Saguaro beat Donner. Donner's been making it to the championships in Atlanta for, like, ever. But so yesterday's news.

“Are you joining, Sherry?” Honor Roll Girl swings her backpack to her other shoulder. “You'd be a real asset.”

Me? A real asset to the robotics club? Doing what? Bringing snacks?

“She has a C in computer,” Nerdy Nick says. “Quit trying to recruit everyone, Meghan.”

Honor Roll Girl jumps away from me like I've got a rash.

“Sherry!” a male voice calls.

The voice lightning-bolts straight down my spine.

I gaze around and spot Josh.

My legs go all rubbery, like when you're forced to run the mile the first week in PE, and you haven't done one millisecond of exercise over the summer.

He's leaning against the cactus statue, the sun lighting him up like he's on a stage. His shaggy hair glints, throwing off extra sparks where the pool water has bleached it from light brown to blond. He's wearing my favorite T-shirt, Totally Tones, that's the exact same blue as his gorgeous eyes. And his Dickies jeans sag at the perfect angle off his hips. Sigh.

When I get close, Josh pulls me in for a hug. I inhale. It's that Josh smell: laundry soap from his clothes mixed with chlorine from the pool.

We break apart.

“Missed you this morning,” he says. “What happened?”

“What happened was The Ruler. I had to help her find her keys.”

“Drag.”

“Definite drag.”

“I wanted to talk to you about tonight,” Josh says. “Well, this afternoon and toni—”

“Wait a sec,” I interrupt him. “Where were
you?
I got to the lunch tables before the bell.”

He looks surprised. “Didn't Candy tell you?”

I cross my arms. “Tell me what?”

“About Magee.”

I squeeze my biceps. Well, where my biceps would be if I had any.

“Yesterday in class, Magee told me I needed to do my
The Call of the Wild
presentation with a strong student 'cause my English grade sucks.” Josh hitches up his jeans. They immediately slide back down. “So when he saw me talking to Candy this morning while I was waiting for you, he said she didn't have a partner yet and we should work together.”

“I still don't get why you weren't there.”

“Magee made me follow him to his office to get
some papers. Candy said she'd wait behind to tell you.” He shoves his hands in his pocket. “Guess something came up, and she left.”

Candy is so dead meat. Trying to make me think Josh doesn't like me anymore. “Do you have to work with her?”

“Seems like I better. Magee said it would raise my grade.” With his palm, Josh tips up my chin and looks straight at me. “You're not jealous of Candy Lopez, are you?”