Don't Expect Magic Read Online Free PDF Page B

closes it. I’ve made my point. But then he opens it again. “We
have
to talk,” he protests. “We’re lab partners. We have to write up our reports together and—”
    “I’m not going to be here long. This is just a temporary stopover.”
    Flynn pulls his notebook out of his backpack. “Too bad you had to set your broom down at all,” he mumbles. He might not have wanted me to hear him, but I did.
    So I say, in a voice even softer than his but clear enoughso he’ll get every word, “You better watch out or your fish-eye isn’t going to be the only thing that’s cracked.”
    Flynn doesn’t say anything or even glance in my direction, but he carefully takes several tiny steps away from me, cramming himself closer to the corner of the table with his cameras.
    I get a sour feeling, like I’ve stomped on a spider that really didn’t do anything wrong except be alive where I could see it and smush it without stopping to think first. It’s not like me to feel remorse for no reason, and I try to shake the feeling off. Flynn will be fine, I tell myself. I’ve actually done him a favor, because now he’ll stay far, far out of my way, where it’s safe.
    “Okay, people,” Mr. McElroy says. “Chapter Four. Acid-base reactions. Let’s get out beakers, pipettes and lab trays. I’ll be passing out bottles of HCl.” He pushes a rolling cart from table to table and sets a fat glass bottle on the end of each.
    Behind him, the classroom door opens, and two girls come in. One is tall, with long shampoo-commercial shiny black hair and an electric-red miniskirt. The other has her artfully highlighted blond hair up in a ponytail and is wearing a yellow bubble dress. I mentally nail their types immediately: self-centered supermodel and her perky sidekick. They chatter and giggle with a few eardrum-piercing squeals thrown in as they stroll past the tables.
    “So I told her, I really, really love the hoops on you,”Supermodel is saying to Perky, “but, like, if you got a bob, then they would just really pop.” With her long legs and silky hair, she seems to walk in slow motion. Right and left, all of the boys and a few of the girls look on the verge of fainting from lovelorn lust. Unbelievable.
    “Oh my God, that was, like, totally the perfect thing to say because it actually sounds, you know, like a compliment,” says Perky.
    “I know! And I really meant it!” Mr. McElroy’s staring his dry, expressionless stare right at them, but they’re in airhead oblivion. “She’s going to get it done today at Anton’s at the mall and finally the whole squad’ll be equally gorgealicious.”
    “You’re so selfless—”
    “Excuse me, ladies,” Mr. McElroy says. “This is not a chat room, it’s a class. And it started ten minutes ago.”
    “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. McElroy!” Supermodel says, and makes it sound “like
totally!
” sincere. “I have a note.” She hands Mr. McElroy a slip of paper and she and Perky stride off—to the other side of our table. Table 6 has gone from a temporary oasis to the officially worst place in the room to be. Why is my luck
always
so bad?
    Mr. McElroy reads Supermodel’s note and for the first time his expression changes, to a sort of mystified disbelief. “ ‘Emergency Pep Council summit’?” He looks over at Supermodel, who shrugs and smiles sweetly, and Mr. McElroy lets it go, of course. Just once I’d like to see one of those popular-perfect girls get detention.
    “Hi, Flynn,” Supermodel says, and flashes her movie-star smile at Flynn. There’s a bright bounce in her voice as if finding Flynn at this table is just the
most
delightful surprise
ever
, although aren’t they across from each other every day?
    Flynn gives her a “Hey” and a little wave but concentrates on setting up our lab equipment. He’s the one other person in the room besides me who doesn’t seem ready to collapse at Supermodel’s feet and pledge eternal devotion. I give him a quarter of a