Academy of Magic Collection

by Angelique S Anderson et al.

  Two-by-two, the kids found new chem lab partners. Posy practically threw herself at Kenny Johnson. It was almost comical the way Kenny’s face had screwed up in dislike before he grunted something that Francie supposed could have been a yes.

  Ginger was snapped up by her gorgeous neighbor, Dean Woods. He called her the wrong name again. Francie almost smiled. She knew Ginger would have a fit about that one.

  Ginger gave him a frosty smile and then turned and paired up with Harriet Thompson.

  Just as Francie feared, everyone had someone except her. She tried to smile at Suzy Lomax, but George had gotten there first. In desperation, Francie even looked at some of the football jocks, but they were already paired up as well.

  “Time is up. I am assuming that everyone has a partner?”

  Francie glared at Mr. Greggory. It was obvious that she was still standing in the middle of the room, clutching her school supplies. I mean, honestly, did the man have eyes?

  “Francine, who is your partner?”

  There was a low murmur of laughter as she lifted her head.

  “I do believe I am without one, Mr. Greggory.”

  He rubbed the narrow bridge between his eyes as if she were being difficult. Francie could hardly believe it. It was his fault she had been placed in this situation. She was perfectly happy being partnered with Ginger.

  She must have looked a little defiant, because Mr. Greggory’s eyes narrowed, and his hand fingered the detention slips that had a permanent spot on the side of his desk.

  This wasn’t Francie’s first time at the soda shop. She knew that if she was going to sass, she had to follow it up with big innocent eyes and trembling fingers. If worse came to worse, she could claim a female complaint. That tended to always get Mr. Greggory in a dither.

  Francie wasn’t half bad to look at, but she was tall. Thankfully, her form did have some respectable curves—nothing so tragic as her friend Betty’s almost childlike frame. The only problem was that she was taller than all of the girls and a good third of the boys.

  “I don’t have anyone,” a deep voice rang out from the back. “A partner, that is. I will be her partner.”

  Francie froze.

  No.

  That voice sounded just like…

  “Mr. Woods, thank you for speaking up. Miss Everett, if you could find your new seat next to Mr. Woods?”

  Francie turned, slow and steady, to stare at the handsome quarterback with his chiseled jawline and perfect all-American boy looks. Surely this wasn’t happening.

  Her eyes narrowed distrustfully, and Dean’s smirk widened, “Hey, Francie. Or should I say partner?”

  Francie slowly placed her things down on the desk. They were at the last table at the back of the classroom. Francie only hoped that Dean would keep to himself. Moving her stool to the farthest possible position while still staying behind the table, she gave her complete attention to Mr. Greggory.

  “Hey, Francie, you’re smart, right?”

  Seriously? Was he still talking to her?

  “Francie, maybe we can…”

  Francie turned to face him; hands clenched together. “Are you writing a book or something?”

  His smile faded while confusion took over. “What’s with you? I’m just being friendly.”

  “Look, Romeo, I am not going to do your homework or the labs for you. If you were thinking that Ginger and I are the same people because we are friends, then you are dumber than you look.”

  His mouth gaped open.

  Francie felt a prick of conscience and wondered if she was being a little too mean. It wasn’t his fault that she was so embarrassed, nor was it his fault that chemistry just got a million times harder because Ginger wouldn’t be close by to read her the things that wouldn’t stay still. Fire crept up the back of her neck. This was a nightmare of epic proportions.

  “Look, if I offended you…” Dean said slowly.

  “I’m not mad,” Francie bit off.

  Dean didn’t look convinced. “You seem mad. Your face is all pinched and your knuckles are white.”

  “Don’t look at me!” Francie hissed.

  “Is there a problem back there, Mr. Woods?”

  Dean looked up to Mr. Greggory at the front of the classroom and smiled that boy next door, homecoming king, I-am-going-to-rule-the-world smile.

  “No, sir, just getting to know my partner.”

  “Are you alright, Miss Everett?” he asked Francie.

  She smiled stiffly. “Peachy keen!”

  Dean snorted back a laugh but was able to hide it behind a cough.

  “Very well, pull out your textbooks. We will be going over the molecular construction of a…”

  And whatever else Mr. Greggory said was lost because Dean moved his stool right up to where Francie was sitting.

  “What are you doing?” She looked around to make sure that nobody could see how close they were.

  She could smell him, for goodness sake! It wasn’t proper, that was for sure. He smelled of sandalwood and leather and something spicy. Francie wanted to lean in to figure out what that last thing was. But she was smart enough to know that would be completely insane.

  Dean shrugged. “Forgot my book. I’ll need to share yours.”

  Francie shoved the textbook into his arms. “Take it! I don’t need it.”

  His brows rose. “That smart, huh? You probably read ahead and already know what Mr. Greggory is lecturing on.”

  Francie snorted. He could not be further from the truth. Not only did she not have a clue what the teacher was talking about, she likely wouldn’t be able to decipher the words later.

  Easier words she had practice with and seemed to do better. But on longer words, she was sixes and sevens. There was no possible way that Francie would be able to figure it out.

  She shot a look over at Ginger, who was happily taking notes. Thank heavens for smarty pants best friends.

  “You are different than most girls.” Dean’s comment drew Francie’s attention back.

  “What do you mean?” She bristled.

  “You are prickly,” Dean said with a grin. “Sometimes kinda mean.”

  Francie was not prickly—she wasn’t. It was only that when you spent your entire life trying to hide the fact that you could barely read, you got used to being on the defensive.

  “You are a dumb boy,” Francie retorted and turned to stare blankly at Mr. Greggory.

  Only rather than being offended, Dean laughed. “See! There isn’t a girl at St. Mary Margaret’s that would say something like that—not to me anyway.”

  He was calling her different; Francie felt vulnerable, as if he could see inside of her.

  “Well, I can’t help what they think.” She swallowed hard. “Or if they are dead blind.”

  Don’t cry, Francie, do not cry.

  “Hey, are you alright?” Dean placed a concerned hand on her arm.

  Francie shot out of the seat. “I need to see the nurse.”

  Without gathering her things, she raced out the door. When the class ended, Dean gathered up her books, but Ginger came and took them from him.

  “I will get them to her,” she said with a smile.

  But instead of going straight to the nurse, Ginger stopped and had a long talk with Mr. Greggory. He promised that on Monday, he would make an announcement that Francie and Ginger could remain lab partners and that Dean could work with Harriet for the rest of the year.

  Chapter Four

  CHAPTER 4-

  Ginger June Peabody tucked her lumpy sweater into her itchy skirt and wished for the millionth time that she had been born a boy.

  It wasn’t that she hated being a girl; it was just that Ginger hated dresses and skirts. When she was at home her parents allowed her to run around in pedal-pushers or even her daddy’s old Levi’s. They didn’t fit well, but they were so comfortable! Ginger could do just about any old thing in them.

  She looked into the warped mirror hanging over the old bathroom sink i
n St. Mary Margaret’s lady’s locker room. Even during physical education, they had to wear skirts. Surely there had to be a better way.

  A few of the girls edged her out of the space in front of the mirror. Sally and Posy painted their lips a nice, glossy pink. Everyone knew that makeup wasn’t allowed at school. But there seemed to be rules for everyone and then no rules whatsoever for certain privileged individuals.

  Ginger was a smart girl—she always had been. She loved reading the classics and getting immersed in a good science experiment. There wasn’t anything that she had ever uncovered that she didn’t want to know more about. Even animal husbandry, which had caused her daddy to have heart palpitations.

  Ginger spent hours reading out of the encyclopedias that the fancy door-to-door salesman had left two summers back. Daddy had willingly bought them for her, saying that she could be anything that she wanted to.

  Her momma, Gloria, would smile tightly and nod before changing the subject. The first time Ginger mentioned wanting to be a doctor, her mother had gasped.

  “But Ginny, you would make a marvelous nurse!”

  That was all well and good, but Ginger didn’t want to be a nurse. She wanted to be the one performing surgeries, curing maladies, and finding new treatments for ailments.

  Her momma just didn’t understand her.

  Daddy had seemed a little taken aback when Ginger announced her intentions of becoming a physician.

  “Well, Sugar, I figure you can be just about anything that you want to be. Why, look at Mrs. Featherstone. She’s working for the US Census now, ain't she, Gloria?”

  Momma had that tight smile reserved for times like these. “Yes, Robert, indeed.”

  “I don’t want to be a secretary,” Ginger scoffed. “And I certainly don’t want to go around census taking. Maybe I will join the army and fight in Korea.”

  Daddy choked. “Hush your mouth, girl. You are not going to go gallivanting halfway around the world. And besides, they wouldn’t let you be a doctor in the army.”

  “Navy, then?” Ginger offered hopefully.

  Daddy sighed and Momma gave him that knowing look. You know, the one where all of the sudden you are very much aware that they have discussed this before without you being present?

  “Baby,” Daddy began, “you are a girl.”

  Ginger blinked. “Right?”

  “You are the smartest and brightest girl this world has ever seen!”

  Ginger beamed. “Thank you, Daddy!”

  “But Sugar, you still are just a girl.”

  It was the first time that Ginger had ever felt…less than.

  “What’s wrong with being a girl?” Ginger’s voice sounded hollow to her own ears.

  “Nothing! Baby, it is the most wonderful thing in the world! Someday, you are going to make some man the finest wife that ever was. You are going to raise smart boys and beautiful daughters. I just know it.”

  Ginger was confused. It wasn’t that she didn’t want the picture that Daddy painted. But even three days later in the lady’s locker room, the thought plagued her. You still are just a girl.

  Just a girl.

  Like being short just two apples of a full barrel.

  Just a girl.

  Never in her life had she noticed the division of roles so clearly. Why couldn’t girls be doctors? Why must they be nurses?

  “Are you just going to stand there like a stump on a log?”

  Ginger blinked. “Sorry, Francie, what were you saying?”

  “Only that I earned an extra dollar this week cleaning the basement, so if you want to go to Sparks after school, we could grab a milkshake?”

  Her mouth started watering just thinking about the thick, delicious shakes that Sparks served. It was only the most popular diner in town with a long counter and swivel stools. But that wasn’t the best part. No, the best part was that George’s daddy owned Sparks, and sometimes you would catch a glimpse of him coming and going with his dreamy friends.

  Ginger looked down again at her shapeless sweater. A lot of the popular kids hung out there. Sometimes they said things that weren’t very nice.

  You see, Ginger’s body had been doing some rather crazy things lately. She wasn’t like Betty, who was cute and little like a doll. Nor was she like Francie, who was tall and willowy but had a classically lovely complexion.

  No, Ginger had always been curviest out of their trio. She hadn’t thought much about it when they were kids. But the older she got; the more others seemed to make a big deal out of her curves. Her mother had called it blossoming into womanhood, but Ginger didn’t feel like a blossom. She felt like an impostor. Her body said va-va-voom, but her mind said that you couldn’t be va-va-voom and a clinical physician. It was a real conundrum.

  The more the blossoming went on, the bigger and baggier Ginger's clothes had become.

  Neither of her friends mentioned her new fondness for layers in the summer. Nor did they bother themselves with the fact that Ginger hadn’t gone to the beach with them in over two years. The thought of putting on a bathing suit made her physically ill.

  “I don’t think so, Francie,” Ginger hedged, grabbing her books and purse from the locker.

  “Come on!” Francie pouted. “I am paying! I already told Betty; this one is on me!”

  Ginger closed her eyes, knowing that she was going to cave even though she really didn’t want to. “Just for a little while.”

  Francie’s smile grew from ear to ear. “Nifty! You won’t regret it, Ginger!”

  But she already did. The rest of the day Ginger fretted over going to Sparks, and by the time she met up with Betty and Francie out front of St. Mary Margaret’s by the flagpole, she didn’t even want a nasty old shake.

  Francie and Betty were arguing about something, so thankfully she didn’t have to participate in the conversation. Ginger dragged behind the two as they made their way down Main Street to the popular soda counter.

  A cheery bell rang as they opened the door, and Ginger’s heart sank. There in the corner was Dean Woods with his arm around Sally, and Kenny plucking at his old guitar. In the far side of the booth, George was flirting Posy Pumpernickel.

  Then right in front of her very eyes, George kissed Posy on her cheek!

  Ginger told herself to move, not to stare, but her body seemed to have lost the connection to her brain, because her eyes were glued to the way George’s lips lingered on Posy’s cheek.

  “Take a picture.” Sally Smithers smirked at her from across the restaurant and several of the patrons laughed.

  Ginger supposed that she should have been grateful to Sally. Her words had broken the spell that had bound her to the door. But all she felt was ugly and self-conscious. Sally and Posy always wore beautifully fitted dresses that came from the department store or the Sears Catalog.

  Everything Ginger wore came from her momma’s Butterick clothing patterns and the sewing machine. Momma said that the sewing machine had a filthy mouth and wasn’t able to come out very often.

  Sometimes they were able to get new material, but often they used what Momma or even Grandma had in the rag bin. After all, a Peabody always adhered to the adage “Waste not, want not.”

  “Ginger,” Francie hissed from the counter, “come and order!”

  Ginger took a step and stumbled a bit. It wasn’t much, just a little, but enough for Sally to sneer, “She’s such a klutz!”

  Ginger felt her temper spike. There were so many girls who looked up to Posy and Sally. Ginger had heard time and again about how they were the cat’s pajamas. Well, if that was what the perfect girl was like, Ginger wanted no part of it.

  Chapter Five

  Ginger didn’t know what had changed for her. Maybe it was that moment in the soda shop; she had never again wanted to feel inferior to someone like Sally and Posy. Maybe it was her daddy’s words, but Ginger knew that something had to change.

  “Girls, I think we should make a pact.”

  Francie blinked. “I don’
t like blood.”

  Betty rolled her eyes. “We can always do a spit pact like we used to.”

  “Yuck.” Francie wrinkled her nose in disgust.

  “Park Avenue, stop acting like you are made of glass.” Betty turned back to Ginger. “What kind of pact are you talking about?”

  “I am going to that audition at the academy tomorrow and I want you two to go with me.”

  Francie gaped, while Betty’s facial expression exploded into rapture.

  Ginger stood up and spit into her palm. Holding it out, she said, “I, Ginger June Peabody, do solemnly swear that I will audition for the academy and not chicken out.”

  Betty hopped up and spit on her palm. “I, Betty Mae Baker, do solemnly swear that I will audition for the academy—that is hopefully fashion training—and I won’t chicken out.” She turned and stuck out her tongue at Francie, “Get to it, sister.”

  Francie sighed and got up off the bed. “Fine.”

  She spit into her palm, “I, Francie Jo Everette, do solemnly swear that…are you sure this is necessary?”

  “We are not going to be just girls. We are going to be amazing,” Ginger responded passionately.

  “What does that have to do with the academy?” Francie complained.

  “Everything—don’t you see? This is our chance to be something different than the boring people we have always been,” Betty answered.

  Francie flushed. “They aren’t going to want me.”

  Betty frowned, while Ginger gave her a sympathetic look.

  “Well, then, we are going to add that we either all get in or none of us accepts the invitation,” Betty added grandly.

  Ginger laughed. “We don’t know if any of us will get in, but you are right. It’s all for one and one for all, my dear Musketeers!”

  “Fine.” Francie screwed up her face and blurted out, “I swear I will go to the stupid audition, but I am not promising anything.”

  The girls smacked their three hands together, sealing the pact, and then Francie screamed something about germs, and they raced, giggling, down the hall to wash their hands in the bathroom.

  By the time they got back, there was a familiar rumble in the driveway below. Once again, they raced over to the window seat to see Kenny’s car pull into Dean’s driveway.