They tossed the ball back and forth, much to Wrecks’ dismay. The dog studied their pattern then leaped in the middle, stealing the ball from them. He ran to the other side of the courtyard and waited for the game to continue before he seemed to realize he needed to return the ball before it could be thrown again. Wrecks raced back to Calum and dropped the ball at his feet.
Calum laughed, picked up the ball and threw it near the back fence. “Hey, do you think we’ll get to see Laurel at school?”
“I doubt it. When your father’s the assistant principal and he doesn’t want you to see certain kids, you don’t see them. She’s as good as gone.”
Calum knew Hagen was right. Ever since that horrible day, he’d had a hollow feeling deep inside. He wondered if the hollowness would ever go away.
“Everything’s gonna be all right,” said Hagen.
“No. It won’t.”
“Then everything won’t be okay,” said Hagen. He turned to Calum. “At least Laurel’s safe. That’s what matters.”
He was right again. Calum wondered how Hagen had gotten to be so smart.
“Just born that way,” said Hagen, collecting the soggy tennis ball from Wrecks’ mouth.
“You’re an idiot,” said Calum. The next thing he knew, Hagen had knocked him to the ground. They wrestled a few minutes until Wrecks’ growls brought them to a halt. The dog hated it when he thought the boys were fighting.
Calum sat up and stroked the dog’s head. “I’m okay, Wrecks.”
Hagen stood and brushed dirt and grass from his clothes. “You better be glad you have that dog to protect you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Calum, getting to his feet.
“Seriously, cuz. It’s time to let go.”
Calum shrugged noncommittally. As he followed Hagen back inside Siopa Leabhar, his thoughts drifted to how things might have been if he hadn’t messed everything up.
Seventh grade was fast approaching, bringing with it the start of a new school year. Seventh Grade Open House, where parents and students could meet the teachers, was just around the corner. Calum was glad he wouldn’t have to attend the event alone.
Calum, Hagen, Laurel, and Daniel toured the classrooms together to meet their teachers. They were pleasantly surprised to learn that their favorite sixth-grade teacher, Mrs. Itig, had “looped” up to teach them seventh-grade science.
Over the summer, the school bullies, Riley and Neal Sloan, had returned to Ireland, and Calum’s old friend Arlen Stanton called him last month with an apology. All was forgiven. Finley caught up with the group as they walked to their Social Studies classroom. Everything was going great until the daydream became a fleeting fantasy.
Calum allowed himself to indulge in this fantasy at least once a day. He wanted nothing more than for everything to go back to normal. If only this, if only that. This would be his second year at Longwood Middle School. He knew the routine and all of his classmates. Seventh-grade students had more classes and greater freedom. It would be a good time to make a fresh start. Maybe it was time to let go and move on.
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Siopa Leabhar’s summer reading titles vanished along with the final days of summer. With perfect timing, the last book was sold the day before the first day of school. Calum wondered if Kenzie had used the same verse she used every day to time the last slice of Chocolate Fae to the final lunch order. Either way, he was glad he wouldn’t have to shelve any leftover books. He folded the display table and stored it in a closet in the upstairs loft.
Calum wasn’t at all nervous the next morning as he and Hagen walked into the front entrance of Longwood Middle School. He had actually been looking forward to this day if for no other reason than the slim chance he might run into Laurel. He searched for her during every locker break and in the crowd of seventh graders as they made their way to their encore classes. But there was no sign of his friend, or her brother.
At lunch, Calum craned his neck, checking every table in the cafeteria for Laurel. He felt a tap on his forearm.
“I bet she’s eating lunch in her dad’s office,” said Hagen.
“I think you’re right,” said Calum. “And I don’t think she’s even got a locker. She and Daniel are probably keeping their stuff in Mr. Werner’s office too.” He gave up his search and returned half-heartedly to his lunch.
In PE class, Calum felt a flicker of hope when he spied Daniel on the other side of the gym. Calum began walking toward him but froze midstride when Daniel looked up and subtly shook his head. He nodded toward the gym doors where Mr. Werner stood, watching the scene. Calum pretended to fetch a stray dodge ball and ran back to his group. He tossed the ball to Hagen.
“Geesh,” said Hagen. “It’s like they’re on lockdown.”
“I wonder how long the Werners are going to keep this up?” asked Calum. As the days stretched into weeks, he felt he had his answer. Forever.
While Calum tried hard to connect with Laurel, he couldn’t escape another classmate. Riley Sloan. As luck would have it, or maybe as Mr. Werner would have it, Riley was in every one of Calum’s classes except for Orchestra. Thankfully, several other classmates from last year were also on his team. Kirby Dare and Susie Turnbill shared most of Calum’s classes, as did Arlen Stanton. Although Calum no longer thought of Arlen as a friend, they had known each other for so long Calum couldn’t cut him out of his life entirely.
He had heard Arlen was spending a lot of time hanging out with some eighth-grade boys. Calum knew one of them had to be Neal Sloan. A rival with his sister for the title of Longwood’s biggest bully, Neal had made it his mission to make Calum’s life miserable. Last year, Neal had been assigned as a peer tutor in Calum’s PE class. The rumor was Neal had lost his tutoring privileges when too many parents complained about him bullying the other students.
The rest of the year proceeded in an equally depressing manner. Arlen continued to shun Calum in his quest to hang with the “cool” kids. Laurel was forbidden to see Calum because of the summer’s revelations. And Finley was still missing. The entire situation was out of Calum’s hands. None of this was his fault, nor could he change any of it.
It seemed school had barely started before the first quarter report cards were being sent home. Calum and Hagen had done quite well, both earning all A Honor Roll. Seventh grade seemed to come easy to Calum, something that was not uncommon with Sidhe the further they progressed in their education. On the whole, Calum found seventh grade to be somewhat boring. It was different to last year when everything was new. Seventh grade was so much blah.
The flu season came early to Emerald Lake, hitting the duine daonna hard the first week of November. Half of the Longwood Middle School staff was home sick the day Kenzie delivered herbal flu treatment baskets to the main office. Her offer to help cover classes was briskly dismissed by Rob Werner.
“We’ve got it,” he said curtly as he strode into the hall to make his morning rounds.
“See you guys after school,” said Kenzie. “Give this one to Ms. Carver when you get to homeroom.” She passed one of her baskets to Calum. She almost gave him a peck on the cheek, but to his relief she thought better of the gesture and patted him on the shoulder instead before walking out of the office.
Hagen snickered.
“Shut up,” Calum grumbled.
Apparently, Ms. Carver was the latest victim of the flu because when they entered homeroom, they were greeted by a substitute teacher Calum recognized as Ms. Crouse. Calum liked her because she always made class interesting, even if they had to do book work. Ms. Crouse sat at the computer to take attendance. After a few minutes of struggling with the system, she sighed in frustration and began filling out a paper attendance report.
“Calum, would you please take this to the office?” she asked, handing him a green sheet.
Teacher’s pet, thought Hagen.
Calum rolled his eyes. As he walked out of the classroom, he heard Ms. Crouse begin a review of weather systems. “So if you looked up from
your cell phones on your way to school, you no doubt noticed it was snowing. Today we’re going to talk about the storm systems that cause snow, and if there’s time we’ll make some snow right here in the lab.”
Calum walked faster to turn in the report and get back to class. He wanted to see how Ms. Crouse was going to make snow without Sidhe talents. He passed the eighth-grade corridor and was about to head down the stairs to the main floor when he heard a sneering voice behind him.
“Well, look who it is.”
Calum didn’t have to turn around. He knew it was Neal Sloan. He decided it was best to ignore Neal. Homeroom was just about over; Calum needed to deliver the attendance and get to science class. But that’s not how things turned out.
“Hey, I’m talking to you,” said Neal, his voice closer now. Calum felt a sharp tapping on his right shoulder and spun around. Neal stood so close to him that Calum could smell the metallic odor of the dull chain hanging around Neal’s throat. Calum instinctively backed up a few steps.
“What’s the matter? Are you scared? You’re not so cocky when you’re by yourself, are you?” Neal taunted. He pushed Calum hard on his chest, knocking him into the wall. “Come on. Let’s see what you’ve got.” His index finger poked into Calum’s throat. Calum began to cough and Neal laughed derisively. “What’s wrong? Can’t breathe?”
Calum looked around the empty corridor in a panic. Surely someone would come by. He felt he was about to pass out when he managed to bring up his right fist, striking Neal sharply on his jaw. Neal fell away and Calum bent almost double, gasping for air. He glanced up to see Neal staggering toward him. Without thinking, Calum ran toward Neal, tackling him and knocking him to the floor. Neal landed hard on his back, right at the feet of Mr. Werner.
“Boys!” yelled Mr. Werner, pulling Calum off Neal. “Stop this at once.”
“He’s crazy,” Neal screamed. “He came at me while I was trying to get to class.”
Calum snatched the green attendance sheet from the floor and glared at Neal.
Mr. Werner looked at the two boys. “Now you’ll both be late.” He marched them down the stairs to the main office. “Wait here, Calum,” he said as he ushered Neal to his office in the back. Calum placed the attendance sheet on the receptionist’s desk and took a seat on the uncomfortable couch. Ms. Hamber looked at him sympathetically.
Fifteen minutes had passed before Neal came striding out of Mr. Werner’s office, a fake smile plastered on his face. “Mr. Werner says we’re to apologize.” He thrust out his right hand.
Calum shook his hand and Neal squeezed it firmly. Calum squeezed back just as tightly.
“I’m sorry,” Neal hissed through clenched teeth. He leaned in closer. “I’m sorry we were interrupted.”
“I’m sorry too,” said Calum. “I’m sorry you’re a jackleg.”
“Calum?” called Mr. Werner. “Come on back.”
Neal grinned at him. “See you around.” He strode out of the office, ignoring Ms. Hamber’s offer of a tardy slip.
“Close the door and sit down,” said Mr. Werner. He shuffled papers on his desk, not looking up for at least two minutes while Calum squirmed in his chair. “Look, Calum, I simply will not tolerate your talents here at school. Do you understand?”
“I didn’t use my talents,” Calum protested. “It was Neal, he started it.”
“According to Neal, he was walking back to class and at least ten feet away from you one second, and in the next, he was on the ground.”
“He’s lying,” said Calum. “He attacked me.”
“I really don’t have time to play the ‘it wasn’t me’ game. All I know is when I came around the corner you were pinning Neal down, which goes right along with his version of the story.”
Calum stared out the window, so angry his eyes threatened tears.
“I trust the two of you apologized?”
Calum nodded, refusing to look at Mr. Werner. Laurel’s dad. He’d known Calum outside school. He had been to his house. Surely he knew Calum wouldn’t pick a fight. He had to know Neal was the bully.
“As no adults witnessed the incident, I’m letting you both off with a warning. Stay away from each other.” Mr. Werner cleared his throat. “One last thing, Calum. If I even think you’re using your talents in my school, my next conversation will be with your mother. Believe it or not, I know she will support me on this. Do we have an understanding?”
Calum nodded.
“Get a tardy slip from Ms. Hamber and get back to class.” Mr. Werner resumed shuffling piles of paper on his desk as Calum exited his office.
Calum walked back to class in a sour mood, clutching his tardy slip. He flung the door to his mind wide open so Hagen would know what had happened.
You should have called me came Hagen’s response. I’d love to get a piece of him. I would have kicked his butt.
Calum was chuckling when he rejoined Hagen in science class. He grabbed his lab book and sat with his group just as they began experimenting with a cup of white powder that made synthetic snow. Most of the kids in the room thought it was quite a trick, but Calum and Hagen found it reminiscent of faerie dust. Calum smiled at his friends’ reactions as they watched the powder absorb water and overflow its cup. Curiously, Riley Sloan’s expression was one of complete and utter boredom.
Calum’s day improved unexpectedly during last period. He was completing Mrs. McKay’s activity on using variables to solve real-world mathematical problems when the fire alarm sounded. Calum glanced at his watch. By the time they got back inside from the fire drill, class would be over. No math homework.
You know it, thought Hagen.
They joined their classmates in a single file line to the designated area where everyone turned around to face the building. Calum’s class was on the back side of the building, as were a handful of others. With everyone’s winter coats in their lockers, many of the students grumbled and complained as the minutes dragged by, stamping their feet trying to stay warm. The snow had stopped, but there were a couple of inches on the ground.
Calum glanced to his right where eighth-grade students waited with encore teachers. His eyes casually followed the line of students to the last one. Neal Sloan. Before Calum could look away, Neal shot him a threatening look.
When the “all clear” announcement was given, students and teachers eagerly returned to the warmth of the building.
Watch this, thought Hagen.
As the line of eighth-grade students headed toward the building, a snowball came from out of the blue and smacked Neal in the back of his head. He whipped around, looking for the culprit. His eyes met Calum’s. Neal stepped out of his line and charged toward him.
“Not helping,” Calum whispered.
“Hang on,” said Hagen.
When Neal was no more than a dozen feet away, his eyes still glued on Calum, another snowball struck him. He stopped abruptly.
Good one, Hagen, thought Calum. He’ll never know who did it.
But suppressed laughter bubbled from Hagen’s throat, betraying him.
Neal seemed to work it out. He quickened his pace and was just reaching for Hagen when the chorus teacher, Ms. Huerta, called out.
“Mr. Sloan!” she exclaimed, rubbing her arms for warmth. “Where do you think you’re going? It is freezing out here, and I for one would like to go home. You get back here this second.”
Neal made to follow her, but turned back to Calum and Hagen. He gave them an odd, eerie smile before falling into line with the other eighth graders returning to the encore wing.
Chapter Eight
Everything is Not All Right
The week before Thanksgiving brought with it the final football game of the season. Longwood Middle was scheduled to play their long rival, the Rantoul Ravens. After the game, seventh- and eighth-grade students were invited to attend Longwood’s homecoming dance.
“It’s not fair,” Brytes said Friday morning on the way to school. “I want to go to the dance.”
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“You’ll get to go next year,” said Kenzie, pulling into the car drop-off lane. “And when you do, you won’t want the sixth graders there.”
“I guess,” said Brytes. She stared out the window, pouting.
“You won’t,” said Hagen. “Because everyone knows sixth graders are weirdos.”
Brytes’ expression betrayed a small smile.
Hagen had initially been disappointed when Brytes infringed on his personal space by joining the carpool, but after a few weeks, he stopped moping about it. He seemed to grow into the big brother role, helping Brytes adjust to middle school.
Calum helped as well. Brytes’ first day of school had been rough. She had a knack for getting lost during class changes. Calum was on his way to the media center when he found her sitting on the bench in the main hall. She sniffed and tried to hide her tears, but Calum had noticed. He sat down and put his arm around her shoulder.
“Where are you headed?” he asked.
“Orchestra,” said Brytes, wiping her eyes.
“Let me show you something,” he said. He pointed to four hallways that all converged on the Commons. “Everything’s labeled, see? Sixth, Seventh, and Eighth. The last hallway is for encore classes. That’s where you’ll find the orchestra room, the computer skills room, and all the classes that are not core classes.”
Brytes sniffed and looked up at the hallways.
“You know where the gym is, right?” asked Calum.
“Yeah, it’s behind us,” she said.
“Basically, you’ll need to be in one of three places. The gym, the encore wing, or the sixth-grade hall. So, where do you think you should go for orchestra?”
Brytes gave him a smile. “Thanks, Calum.” She hopped off the bench and trotted toward the encore wing.
Calum looked at her now, as she stared out the car window. She’d grown a lot since that day, even ready to take on a school dance.
“Look, there’s Julie Choi,” said Brytes, her disappointment apparently gone. She jumped out of the car and ran to catch up to her friend.
“Sixth graders,” said Hagen, shaking his head.
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