Don't Expect Magic Read Online Free PDF

got like a minute before it starts, but I lower my wheels and zigzag easily through the stragglers, skidding up to the door just as the bell rings. Perfect timing.
    Except some idiot steps in front of me before I’vestopped and—
SMASH!
—we collide. I clutch the doorframe for balance as the moron tumbles backward. Cameras spin around his neck like a pinwheel and crash down on top of him.
    It’s the blue-sky-loving dork from yearbook.
    “Watch where you’re going, photo freak,” I tell him. He struggles to gather up his cameras before they’re crushed underfoot by a couple of tanned lifeguard types, who shoot an amused look down as they enter the room. Their gaze shifts to me, but it doesn’t stay long, just long enough for me to catch the “whoa, you don’t belong
here
” vibe. Tell me something I don’t know.
    “I’m not the one breaking the law,” Yearbook Guy snaps at me. “No Rollerblades inside the school. It’s a safety hazard.”
    I slam the toes of each boot on the floor so the wheels retract and I’m no longer committing a deadly school-hallway felony. I toss Camera Boy an “are you satisfied?” smirk, but he’s gone back to detangling and isn’t paying attention anymore.
    In the classroom, the disapproving stares from the hallway have multiplied. Everyone’s wearing one except the teacher, Mr. McElroy, a short guy with a pudgy face and droopy eyes, who has no expression at all. “I’m a transfer,” I tell him, and hand him my admission slip. Out in the hall, Mr. Paparazzo’s still having trouble untangling his camera straps. “From a distant, more highly evolved culture.”
    “We’re honored to have you among us, Ms.…” Mr. McElroy glances at the slip. “… Collins. I’m sure your presence will enlighten and enrich us all.” I give him a look. Is he mocking me? It’s hard to tell with that face. “You can partner with Flynn Becker. Table six.” Mr. McElroy points to a lab table at the back of the room. “Fittingly, we’re studying acidic properties today.” Okay, that was sarcasm for sure. I meet his eyes, but he keeps a straight face. I like this guy. He’s got an edge. He’s definitely not from this sugarcoated land of smiles and sunshine.
    I mentally brush away the curious stares and whispers as I walk back to my table, which I’m relieved to find is empty, even though it’s meant for four people, two on each side. Whatever the other three are out sick with, I hope it’s chronic.
    Camera Boy finally enters, his camera straps now slung over each shoulder like climbing ropes. He holds up his palm, warding off a scolding from Mr. McElroy, who is frowning at his watch. “I was involved in a major collision,” Camera Boy says. “Property damage
and
personal trauma.”
    Mr. McElroy shakes his head, unimpressed. “Take it up with your insurance agent. I’d like to start class.” Camera Boy shrugs and heads to the back. “Oh, by the way, Flynn,” Mr. McElroy calls after him, “you have a lab partner now. Delaney Collins.”
    Camera Boy freezes; then his eyes shift to me, his look filled with dread.
    “Great,” I say to myself.
    “Great,” I hear Flynn say under his breath at the same time.
    He trudges over next to me and gently sets down his cameras on the ledge under the cabinets that line the wall. This takes about five hours as he carefully lines each one up and makes sure none are touching. I expect him to pet them next, or kiss them on the top of their little black plastic heads. Instead he shoots me a wannabe lethal glare. “The fish-eye lens on my SLX 4700 is cracked.”
    “Sue me,” I say.
    “I might.” He starts to get worked up. “I have physical evidence
and
witnesses. I could take you to any court and—”
    I lean in close to his face. “Here’s the deal: you don’t talk to me, I don’t talk to you. You don’t get strangled with one of your camera straps, I don’t have to listen to your whining.”
    Flynn blinks. He opens his mouth,