Free Parties & Potions #4 by Sarah Mlynowski

she has me feeling bad for her again. Telling her, Please don’t sit with me anymore, is unlikely to cheer her up. “Oh! I have good news.”
    “I like good news.”
    “Miri and I are in. We’re gonna do the Samsorta!”
    “Really? Excellent! That is good news! We can cele-brate together! Are they going to let you into Charm School?”
    “My mom is calling them today.”
    She adjusts her hold on the tray. “Let’s go sit down. I’m starved and this weighs a ton.”
    Here it comes. “Wait. There’s something I want to talk to you about.” Deep breath. “Don’t you want to make friends with people in your own grade? You’re still welcome to sit with me, of course.” But please don’t. Pretty please? Pretty please with a maraschino cherry on top?
    She shrugs. “I haven’t spoken much to anyone in my grade.”
    “Maybe you should try.” I look around the room and scout out the cliques of freshmen. “Any girls you recognize from class?”
    She points to a group of über-glossy-looking girls. I’m talking full-on highlights, designer jeans and tops, noses so upturned they’re practically touching the clouds, or at least the ceiling. “They’re in my homeroom.”
    Hmm. I don’t know if they’re the best place to start. “Anyone else?”
    She glances around. “It’s so tough to tell these people apart. They all wear the exact same thing. Oh, I think those girls are in my art class.”
    The girls she’s pointing to look a little less snobby. One is wearing a purple peasant skirt and a matching off-the-shoulder blouse, and the other has a chunky pink streak in her hair and a silver nose ring. Peasant Skirt Girl is laughing heartily at whatever Pink Streak Girl is saying. Yes, they are a much better choice for potential friends. Since they are not wearing the traditional JFK uniform, they are obviously already a few degrees left of mainstream. “Perfect,” I say. “Go say hi. Tell them you’re in their class. Ask if you can join them for lunch. If they’re rude, just pick up your tray and come sit with me. ’Kay?”
    “ ’Kay Thanks, Rachel. Again. You’re a lifesaver.” She stands up straight and heads toward them.
    “Wait!” I whisper. “Wendaline!”
    She turns. “Yup?”
    “Don’t tell them. About … you know. Not right away. ’Kay?”
    “But … Okay.”
    I watch her timidly approach them.
    “Hi,” she says. “I’m in your art class. Do you mind if I join you?”
    “Sure,” Pink Streak Girl says. “What’s your name?”
    Aw.
    I am a lifesaver. Except it’s not Wendaline’s life I’m concerned with saving.
    It’s my own.

     
    Miri accosts my mom the second she walks through the door. “So? So? What did they say? Are we in?”
    “I have good news and bad news,” my mom begins, leaning her dripping umbrella against the door. “Wow, it’s really raining out there.”
    “Is it raining birds and mosquitoes?” I ask.
    “Um, no.” She looks at me quizzically. “Should it be? You didn’t do a weather spell, did you?”
    “Can we get back to the news, please?” Miri asks.
    “Right.” Mom slips out of her rain jacket and hangs it up. “I called the Charm School, but they started classes back in August. So it’s too late for this fall, but they’re happy to sign you up for next year.”
    Wahoo! A year’s reprieve. I’m sure by then Miri will have forgotten about this crazy plan.
    “Oh, no,” Miri says, looking crestfallen. “I want to do it this year. Wendaline’s doing it this year.”
    “It’ll still be fun next year,” I say. “More fun, even, ’cause we won’t be rushed.”
    Instead of listening to my sage advice, my sister is babbling to herself. “There must be other places to train for this. I mean, witches from all over the world participate. There can’t be only one school. I’m going to ask around on Mywitchbook.” She runs into her room.
    Mom sighs. “She certainly has a bee in her bonnet, huh?”
    “Seems that way.” Am I a terrible