Page 15

*not hot hat*

T HE NEXT DAY MOVED in slow motion, mostly because Jackson and I were going to do some investigative work after school and I couldn’t wait to get started. Every moment that ticked by was a moment closer to him getting my final wish and for everything to be over, so I was buzzing to get the show on the road.

Lunch was better and worse than usual, all at the same time.

Allie, Kennedy, and I found a table and started eating all by ourselves, without anyone joining us. It felt good and normal, only the three of us, and it relaxed me a little.

It felt like the old days.

“I can’t believe you’re doing a science assignment with Hot Hat,” Kennedy said (for the third time that day), stabbing her chef’s salad with a fork.

“Why do you keep calling him that when you know his name?” I said, irritated.

“Because I heard someone else say that, and it fits,” she said, raising her fork to her mouth. “How long were you at his house?”

“Long enough to do the assignment,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Why are you being weird about him?”

Allie giggled and said, “Because he’s so freaking cute. I. Would. Die.”

Usually I thought it was funny how boy crazy they were, but for some reason, this attitude, when pointed at Jackson, annoyed me. Maybe it was because he was the official face of my non-grantee status, or maybe it was because they literally knew nothing about him other than the fact that he looked hot now.

In reality, he was still the same guy who’d thrown a rock at our wishes.

Although since they’d gotten theirs, they probably forgave him.

Maybe that was what annoyed me.

Still, regardless of my conflicted feelings toward Jackson Matthews, they were missing the fact that Evan Winters was the hottest of all in the land.

And he didn’t even seem to be on their radar.

“He’s just Jackson,” I said, shrugging. “We’re friends, so it’s no big deal.”

“You can’t be friends with a guy who looks like that, Em,” Kennedy said. “You can be study partners but not friends, because trust me, the second you were to hang out in a non-science way, you’d totally catch feelings.”

“True,” Allie said, nodding like this was sage advice.

“ Not true,” I said, picking up my tuna salad sandwich. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Jackson could be a drooling idiot for all you know. I wouldn’t catch feelings for a drooling idiot, even if he were cute, so you’re totally wrong.”

“ Is he a drooling idiot?” Allie asked.

“Who?” Becca Bicking, one of Allie’s beautiful new cheerleader friends, set down her tray across from us and sat. “Is who a drooling idiot?”

“Hot Hat,” Kennedy said.

Stop calling him that!

I wanted them to stop talking about Jackson because A, I didn’t want him to overhear and think I was acting like a loser and calling him “Hot Hat”; B, I didn’t want to know their opinions on Jackson because I was committed to our wish-fixing partnership for better or worse; and C, it somehow seemed rude to Jackson for them to be discussing his hot-hattiness.

“Why are we talking about Jackson Matthews?” Becca asked, smiling like the conversation was incredibly interesting.

“Em is his lab partner,” Allie said, “so she had to study at his house.”

Shut up! For some reason, I didn’t want anyone to know about that.

“Lucky,” Becca said, her eyes landing on me as if she’d never seen me before.

Spoiler: We’d been in the same class three out of the six years of elementary school.

“No, we’re friends,” I tried explaining again. “It’s not like that.”

“I’d like to be his ‘friend,’” she said, and I wanted to yell at all of them while they giggled like that was hilarious.

Why was it so impossible to believe that Jackson could be actual friends with a girl?

“So, uh,” I said, desperate to change the direction of the conversation. “Who’s the cheer captain this year?”

Becca looked at me like I’d asked her if she was potty-trained. “There isn’t one yet.”

“Oh,” I said, nodding.

Allie was giving me a weird look, like she was disappointed in me, and I was back to feeling like I didn’t belong at that table as my attempt at a joke fell the flattest of flat.

The table where my two best friends absolutely and totally appeared to belong.

I waited for Jackson in front of his locker after the final bell went off.

It was time for us to visit Archie.

“Em!” I looked to my right and Allie was making her way toward me in the crowded hallway. She was smiling like she was happy to see me, which was the tiniest bit irritating after she’d acted like I was annoying at lunch.

“Hey.” I looked behind her but didn’t see any of her cool new friends. “Don’t you have practice today?”

A tiny wrinkle formed between her brows. “Tryouts are tonight, remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said, feeling bad I’d forgotten. That was why they’d acted like I was a moron for asking about the captain; tryouts hadn’t even happened yet. “Are you excited?”

She did a little shrug that made her ponytail bounce. “Excited but so nervous. Last night when I was practicing, I kept falling when I tried my backflip.”

“You did?”

I looked at her worried smile and my face was instantly hot, because what if that was my fault? Was she losing her gracefulness because of my slipup to Jackson? Or was it possible that the mere idea of us messing with the magic was enough to start ruining it?

I tried reassuring her (and me) by saying, “Don’t be—I know you’re going to make it.”

“I’m so nervous,” she said, then leaned closer and whispered, “What if the things we can’t talk about are going away? What if I’m falling because I’ve lost the… thing .”

“That’s ridiculous,” I said, desperately hoping that was true. I’d never read anything in Nana Marie’s journals about someone losing their magic, so surely this would be fine, right?

“How come you’re in this hallway?” she asked, looking confused. “Isn’t your locker in the east hallway?”

“Um,” I said, not sure of what exactly to say. Because not only did I not want to mention Jackson’s name, but suddenly it seemed like a bad idea to even be near her when I was trying to mess with the magic. Since she was getting everything she’d wished for, it seemed like a not-great-friend thing to do, didn’t it?

The last thing in the world I wanted to do was jeopardize my friends’ magic.

As much as their good luck might make me feel luckless, I still wanted them to have it.

“Move it, Rockford,” I heard from behind me, and when I turned around, Jackson nudged me out of the way so he could open his locker.

I looked back at Allie, and she was watching us through squinty eyes, like she was trying to figure something out. I cleared my throat and said, “My mom is forcing me to carpool with Jackson.”

Which was an outright lie. Heck, I didn’t even have a ride that day and was going to be walking home, so no cars would even be involved in pooling.

“Oh,” she said, looking like she believed me, like that explanation made sense to her.

I could feel Jackson’s eyes on me, but I kept my eyes on Allie. “What time are tryouts?”

“Four,” she said, glancing down at her Apple Watch. “I should go change, actually.”

“Well, good luck!” I said cheerily. “I’m sure you don’t need it, though.”

Please don’t need it.

“Thanks,” she replied, and when she smiled at me, she looked like her old self.

“Text me the second you’re done, okay?” I said, excited for her.

“I will.”

As soon as she started walking away, Jackson said, “Such a little liar.”

I turned around and looked up at him— man, he was tall —and he almost looked hurt.

Which couldn’t be right.

Still, I felt the need to explain. “I can’t tell her that we’re trying to mess with the magic.”

“Understood.” He hitched his backpack over his shoulder and slammed the locker shut. “So, what is our plan?”

I liked that he was now calling it our plan. It somehow felt more possible to fix the magic when I wasn’t trying to do it by myself.

Although he didn’t really have much choice.

We started walking down the hallway, in the direction of the lunchroom, going to see Archie.

Archie Todd was the weird old lunch lady who’d worked at the school since the day it opened. She was tiny and hunched over, with red hair that had never not been in a bun on the top of her head, and she pretty much muttered under her breath constantly.

The woman rambled incoherently—without stopping—while she slapped spoonfuls of food onto kids’ trays every day.

But for some reason she was in Nana Marie’s address book, and her initials matched those of the person who had maybe transferred a wish to my nana.

It might mean nothing, but it was definitely worth a shot.