by Kir Fox
“Udpredicdable?” Quincy repeated. “Oh doh.”
“Are you sure you don’t have any symptoms, Davy?” Nia asked. “Even Earl Grey has the chills.”
She pointed under the table, where Earl Grey was wrapped in an extra-thick, extra-scratchy blanket. Nanny must have packed it that morning. It was almost as if she had known Nia and Earl Grey were going to get sick today! Nanny did have a second sense for things like that.
Nia sniffled. She wished she was home right now.
“Aw, Earl Grey looks so warm and snuggly,” Runa said. Then she squinted. “Oh, wait, I was looking at Davy’s shoes.”
Quincy pulled a bag of graham crackers and marshmallows from his lunch box. “Wad are your sybtobs, Dia?”
Nia put on her bravest, most long-suffering face. “I feel like I haven’t slept in ten years. My muscles hurt like I just ran twenty miles. And my temperature is at least thirty billion degrees!” She slumped back in her chair, arms dangling. “And I’m starving. Nanny always makes me the best soup when I’m sick.”
“You can get some soup in the soup line,” Runa suggested.
The soup line was all the way on the other side of the cafeteria, which might as well have been an island across a vast ocean. “I wish I could just summon a bowl of chowder,” Nia said.
CLANG!
“Look out!” yelled Ricky as the kitchen door flew open. Something small and white zoomed over him. It sailed across the cafeteria—right toward Nia! She gasped and covered her head.
Thunk. “Ow!”
Nia peered through her fingers. A bowl sat upside down on Davy’s head, and chowder drip-dropped down his face.
“Was that for me?” she asked.
Davy wiped a chunk of potato out of his eye. He opened his mouth, then paused, blinking furiously.
“Ah . . . ah . . . ahhhh . . . CHOO!”
Sparks shot out of Davy’s nose, roasting Quincy’s marshmallows. “Fire!” Runa yelped, grabbing her chocolate milk and tossing it in Talise’s face.
“There’s no fire,” Talise sputtered. “Only smoke.”
“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” Finn pointed out. “Usually. But this time . . . uh-oh.”
Jules was flapping her hand in front of her face frantically, her eyes wide.
“AHHH-CHOOO!”
Flames flew from her mouth and onto the pile of smoky marshmallows. Everyone gasped and stood up, backing away from the blaze. The cafeteria doors opened, and Nurse Xavier stepped inside. “Is something on fire?”
“We need water!”
“No, we need napkins!”
“No, we need chocolate!”
“Duck!”
“Why would we need a duck?”
“No, duck!”
Everyone ducked as a whirlwind of napkins and bottles of chocolate syrup sailed out of the kitchen, along with a stream of water from the sinks. It flew right over the kids—and into Nurse Xavier’s face!
Nia cringed. “Oops.”
“You kids have the flu,” Nurse Xavier said, wiping chocolate syrup off his bald head. “You should be resting, not food fighting. Now I need a shower!”
The cafeteria doors slammed shut behind him.
“Food fighting?” Ricky demanded, hands on his hips.
“It’s not what it looks like,” Nia said.
“Then why is food flying all over the place?”
“Telekinesis!” Runa exclaimed.
“Tele what?”
“Telekinesis. It’s when you can control objects with your mind. I think so, anyway. One time, Madame Flea’s fortune said she controlled the arcade games with her telekinetic powers—”
“You mean I summoned the chowder with my mind?” Nia asked. “I don’t know, Runa. That’s pretty far-fetched, even for you.”
Jules rolled her eyes. Finn furrowed his brow. Ricky scratched the fork-and-knife tattoo on his left bicep.
But Talise nodded thoughtfully. “I think Runa might be right.”
“You do?” Runa looked more surprised than anyone.
“It makes sense,” Talise went on. “Nia just said she wished she could summon a bowl of chowder, and then she did. Telekinesis as a flu symptom is the most obvious conclusion.”
“Nurse Xavier did say the symptoms are unpredictable,” Finn said.
“Oh doh,” said Quincy anxiously.
“Oh yes,” Nia said, warming up to the idea. “I can totally control things with my mind!”
Davy shook his head, sprinkling everyone with chowder. “So you were trying to start a food fight.”
“Is that true, Nia?” Ricky asked sternly. “This is quite a mess!”
It was the greatest injustice to ever happen at Topsea School. (That’s how it felt to Nia, anyway.) “It wasn’t on purpose!” Nia insisted. “Why would I throw chowder at Davy?”
Davy raised his eyebrows. “Revenge for winning Spirit Day?”
Nia made a face. Payback hadn’t been her plan—but maybe it wasn’t a bad idea. Especially if she had telekinetic powers!
“Come on, Davy,” she said. “If it’d been on purpose, I wouldn’t waste something as delicious as chowder. I’d . . . I’d dump a hundred bottles of seaweed ketchup on your head!”
An eerie silence fell over the cafeteria.
Nia felt a tingling behind her eyes. Suddenly:
WHOOOSH!
Like a flock of seagulls, a hundred bottles of seaweed ketchup flew over the hot lunch line in a V-formation. They headed straight for Davy, who yelled and covered his head with his arms. The bottles flipped over and shook, dousing Davy and everything around him in thick, green ketchup.
“By barshballows!” Quincy exclaimed.
“My french fries!” Runa popped a few ketchup-covered fries in her mouth. “Mmm, delicious.”
As for Davy, he looked like the giant green blob in a cheesy old horror movie Nia had watched once with Nanny. Two brown eyes blinked at her from behind the green slime. Nia couldn’t help it. She started giggling.
The brown eyes narrowed. Then they closed.
“Uh-oh,” Nia said.
“Hang on, now.” Ricky stared at Davy. “What are you—”
Clatter-CRASH!
Nia looked around for a place to hide, but the massive tub flying toward her was quicker. It flipped over—and started to rain mystery meat. “Ew, carnitas!” she shrieked, flapping her arms. “Or beef! Or goat! Whatever it is, make it stop!”
“Get a mop!”
“Get some clue sauce!”
“KOO-HWAHHH!”
Finally, the empty tub clattered onto the floor. The green blob laughed.
Nia scowled, brushing chunks of ground-up mystery meat off her shoulders. Then she squeezed her eyes closed, ignoring Ricky’s howls of protest.
WHOOOSH!
“Surprise!” Nia yelled. The green blob gasped just as a fishy-smelling casserole flew into his face with a smack.
“That Surprising Tuna was supposed to be a surprise!” Ricky grumbled. “Oh, wait . . . I guess it was.”
Nia climbed on her chair and raised her arms. “I’m the food fight champi—argh!” she sputtered as something stinky and sticky splashed her from head to toe. A large pot clanged to the floor in front of her. Stewed spinach hung from Nia’s braid, from her nose, from her ears.
Now she looked like the green blob.
She started laughing. So did Davy. From under the table, Earl Grey let out an amused snort. Even Quincy giggled nervously. Soon everyone was laughing.
Everyone except Ricky.
As soon as Nia saw his expression, she stopped giggling. Nanny got the same look after Nia let Earl Grey splash in mud puddles on his evening walk. Splashing was fun for Nia and Earl Grey—but muddy girl-and-hog prints tracked through the house weren’t any fun for Nanny.
“Who’s going to clean up this mess?” Ricky wailed. “Cosmo is still putting out snot fires in the kindergarten classroom. And what about all this wasted food? We’ll need a whole new menu for th
e rest of the week!”
Quincy’s hand shot up. “I’ll do it! I love to cook.”
“It’s probably not sanitary to cook with a stuffy nose,” Talise pointed out.
“But he don’t sound stuffy anymore,” Jules said. Then she beamed. “And my throat isn’t sore! I can talk!”
Ricky tapped his foot impatiently. “I’m glad you’re all feeling better, but what about this mess? And the menu?”
“Nia and I started the food fight,” Davy said. “So we’ll help with the new menu. And we’ll clean up, too.”
“We will?” Nia said.
“It’s only fair.” Davy drip-dropped green ketchup as he walked to the mop and bucket in the corner.
She hated to admit it, but Davy had a good point. Because Nia’s parents traveled a lot, Nanny did most of the cooking and cleaning. It’s not as if Nia didn’t help at all . . . but she could probably be more helpful. Especially because she liked Nanny. And Ricky, too.
“I think we should make hot dogs for tomorrow’s lunch,” Davy told Nia as she wiped the tables. “And chili. My mom and I make really spicy chili.”
“Oh yeah?” said Nia. “Because Nanny and I make the spiciest carne asada in the world. Way spicier than any chili.”
Davy stopped mopping and grinned at Nia. “Wanna bet?”
Nia grinned back. “You’re on.”
Cafeteria Menu
~ MONDAY ~
Snack
Orange Smiles and Lemon Frowns
Lunch
Clamburgers* and Fries with Clam Chowder*
~ TUESDAY (Revised) ~
Snack
String Cheese or Yogurt Yarn
Lunch
SHH! It’s a Surprise! Hot Dogs and Davy’s Very Spicy Chili
~ WEDNESDAY (Revised) ~
Snack
Grapes
Lunch
Yam Fritters and Clam Fritters*,
Nia’s Very Very Spicy Carne Asada (Way Spicier Than Davy’s Chili!)
~ THURSDAY (Revised) ~
Snack
Pigs-in-a-Blanket with Seaweed Ketchup
Chiles Rellenos Stuffed with Oatmeal
*due to the clam shortage, all clam entré es will be replaced with the student’s choice of ham or “clam,” a tofu-based clam substitute
Lunch
Baked Beans or Bacon Beans or Baked Bacon (with Beans)
~ FRIDAY (Revised) ~
Snack
Chocolate Milk or Chocolate Tea Earl Grey Tea and Extra-Fancy Biscuits
Lunch
Corn Dogs and Cats with Stewed Spinach Spirit Stew
(Invisible but Definitely Real and Very Nutritious!)
**thanks to Guest Chefs Nia and Davy for helping out with this revised menu!
Runa was going to be late for school.
“I know that’s unusual,” Runa told Finn on the phone. “I still feel bad for leaving without you last time! But my eyesight’s been blurry ever since I got over the flu, so my dad’s driving me to the ophthalmologist. That’s a doctor who makes sure your eyeballs aren’t falling out—”
“It’s okay,” Finn said.
“Really?”
“Of course. A little change might be good for me, you know?”
Runa hung up, feeling mildly bewildered. Finn hated walking to school alone. That was why she stopped by his house every morning, even though it wasn’t exactly on the way. Did Finn have another friend he was walking with?
That’d be okay, of course. It’s not like Finn was Runa’s boyfriend—they didn’t feel that way about each other, and never would! Anyway, Runa had other friends, too. Like Talise. Even though they had wildly different interests, they’d had fun hanging out the other day. They even shared a secret!
But Runa still felt a little funny.
“Still feeling funny, Runa?” her dad asked as they drove down Main Street. It was blurry.
“She looks funny,” said her little sister, Lina, who was in second grade.
“I’m sure the ophthalmologist will fix you up in no time.”
“If not, maybe it’ll help my art,” Runa said bravely. “The great Impressionist painter Claude Monet had cataracts later in life.”
“Oh, that’s why his paintings were so squishy-looking!” her dad said.
“You’ll be good at painting sea blobs,” Lina said.
Runa sniffed. “Philistines.”
At the ophthalmologist’s office, Runa’s dad tried on glasses to make them giggle. “How about these?” he said, wearing tortoiseshell frames exactly like Ms. Grimalkin’s.
The ophthalmologist walked in. “Eyeglasses aren’t toys, young man,” she said to Runa’s dad, then winked at Runa and Lina. They giggled harder.
“Sorry,” Runa’s dad said sheepishly.
First, the ophthalmologist had Runa look through a machine with her left eye and name the images she saw. “Dragon, clamcake, table, orangutan, sea orb, jack-o’-lantern, comic book, buffalo.” Runa laughed. “One time my grandparents came to visit from South Korea, and we visited an island where a bunch of wild buffalo lived, and they were all the descendants of Hollywood movie stars—”
“Now your right eye,” the ophthalmologist said.
Obediently, Runa peered into the machine. She hesitated. “Potato?”
“Mm-hm. I see.”
“Is there flu in my eyeball?”
The ophthalmologist twisted some knobs, then shook her head. “Potato.”
“Huh?”
“More specifically, mashed potato, or possibly a fleck of french fry.” She winked again. “Get into any food fights lately?”
“Um . . .” Runa replied.
“I’m going to put some drops in your eyes. They should take care of the problem shortly—although they might make you see a little differently for the rest of the day.”
Runa took a deep breath, then opened her eyes wide. The last thing she saw was a green glob, which looked a little too much like seaweed ketchup. “Ack,” she said pleasantly.
“How is your eyesight now?” the ophthalmologist asked.
Runa crossed her eyes, then peered into the machine again. She still saw a potato—but now it glowed bright blue. “Ooh, much prettier.”
“Perfect,” the ophthalmologist said. She glowed bright blue, too.
Runa joined her dad and sister in the waiting room. Both of them glowed!
Her dad’s glow was more of a milky tan, though. And Lina glowed a milky yellow.
“How in the world did you get potato in your eye?” Lina exclaimed.
“Um . . .” Runa replied.
“All that matters is you’re feeling better,” her dad said. “After Lina’s checkup, I could really go for a cup of coffee. With extra creamer.”
“Yuck,” said Lina. “Make mine a banana milk!”
“Hmm,” Runa said.
As they drove through town, Runa couldn’t believe her eyes. Topsea was prettier than it’d ever been. She already saw color and beauty and glitter in places the other kids didn’t see. But now it was even easier!
Everybody she saw glowed different colors. Bright ones, dull ones, lively ones. And it wasn’t just people who glowed, but other things, too. Seaweed glowed a ticklish-looking turquoise. After Runa’s dad dropped her off at school, she noticed the jungle gym shone shimmery gold, as if something was buried underneath.
Runa stepped inside the classroom, then froze.
“You’re all so beautiful,” she said.
Davy giggled. “Thanks!”
“How was the ophthalmologist?” Ms. Grimalkin asked. Her glow was stripy, bright, and soft-looking, like rock kitten fur with the sun shining on it.
“She put drops in my eyes.” Runa fell into the nearest empty seat, which was beside Talise. “My vision isn’t blurry anymore. But now I’m pretty sure I can see everybody’s auras!”
“What’s an aura?” Nia asked, scratching her neck.
“I’m not really sure,” Runa admitted. “But one time, my grandm
other told me her grandmother could see auras, and that was how she fell in love with my great-great-grandfather, because his aura was the prettiest one she’d ever seen. Anyway, there’s a unique, colorful glow around each and every one of you—”
“Suuure,” Jules said.
Runa sighed. “I’m not telling tales! I swear. Jules, your aura is really bright. And it’s not just still—it’s flashing.”
Jules perked up a bit. “Tell me more.”
“It’s kind of hard to describe. I wish I could show you, but then you’d have to go to the ophthalmologist, too—and anyway, I’m not even sure a person can see their own aura. . . .” She glanced down at herself. “Oh, wait. Sparkly!”
Finn giggled. Runa smiled at him.
Then she frowned. Everybody’s auras were different, but Finn’s aura looked sort of . . . exceptionally different.
“You’re quite skilled at painting, Runa,” Talise said. “Why don’t you paint the auras so our classmates can see them?”
“That’s a great idea!” Runa said, surprised. She knew art was Talise’s least favorite subject, so it was kind of her to suggest it.
At recess, Runa brought out her colored pencils and watercolors and oil pastels and clay and charcoal and an easel. Her classmates and Earl Grey crowded around her as she painted Jules’s aura in flashing shades of copper and silver.
Suddenly Runa realized Talise wasn’t with them. She spotted her over by the jungle gym, measuring it with a complicated-looking tool. “Talise!” she called. “Come here, I’m painting auras!”
Talise looked a little surprised, but she walked over to join the other kids.
“I hope that tool has nothing to do with boatbuilding,” Jules said.
“IT HAS NOTH—” Talise shut up when Runa elbowed her.
“Why do you care whether Talise is building a boat or not?” Runa asked Jules. “She’s allowed to have different interests. No need to make her feel silly.”
“Sure, but—I’m just saying that factually, building a boat based on one washed-up old message makes no sense—”
“Well, maybe you don’t have all the facts,” Runa said, thinking of Talise’s secret second bottle.
There was a moment of awkward silence. Runa hoped she hadn’t said something wrong again. It wouldn’t be the first time. As usual, it was hard to read Talise’s feelings, although she appeared to be squeezing something in her hand.