Free Wander Dust by Michelle Warren

meeting only confuses me further. He disappears behind the Academy building and into the trees.
    My mouth hangs open. How can he leave when he hasn’t told me anything about his photo, who the gang is, or what wandering is? As I reflect for a moment, I realize he’s the second person to use the term “ wandering ” since I arrived. The disgusting bum on the L train, Frances, someone called him, said the same word—wandering. What does Frances have to do with this? He isn’t on my list of weird occurrences. Should I put him there?
    Now there are only questions and no answers. Annoying. What the freak is “wandering?” And why are, now renamed, British Stalker Boy and Frances Germ Bum asking me about it? This creates a new category. Together they fit neatly in it, but my list of weird is growing:
    Lady in Black
    Chicago premonition
    Frances Germ Bum
    Grungy Gang
    British Stalker Boy
    Wandering
    I exhale, frustrated.
    I look down at my hand. The piece of paper British Stalker Boy gave me crunches in my grasp. It’s an envelope, a piece of mail. When I look closer, I see it’s one of Aunt Mona’s electric bills. What is British Stalker Boy doing with this? How does he even know where I live? My stomach turns, leaving me queasy.
    A green sticky note hangs from to the back of the bill. On it, crappy boy handwriting scratches across the paper. I scan the notes. They’re directions of some sort.
1. Stand in the front, east corner of the Strovel’s yard. (Address- 125, next to Mona’s house)
2. Hold this piece of mail and concentrate on Mona, and only Mona. (‘Mona’ is your keyword)
3. Run as fast you can in a straight line going west.
4. Sit down behind the hedges, be very quiet, and listen.
5. Return after you hear what you need to hear.
6. Repeat number two while running in the opposite direction to return home.
    The only thing I’m sure of is that British Stalker Boy intended to give this to me today, but what it means, I’m not sure.
    It would be nice to spend a day at school where I actually get to think about—well—school. Instead, I find myself contemplating a stupid note and its very hot messenger. Just the thought of his silky voice warms me all over.
    Why would I want to run around the neighbors’ yard with Mona’s mail? And why is someone I don’t know, instructing me to do so?
    The scene is starting to feel like some strange prank everyone is playing on the new girl. I glance around the class, taking in each individual student’s face, to see if anyone breaks into as little as a smirk, but no one does. I hoped someone would because a prank would be easier to deal with.
    Macey leans over when the teacher walks out of the room. “What’s with you today? You’ve been in a funk all afternoon,” she says and pulls her hair back into a low ponytail. With a few quick movements of her fingers, she secures it with a rubber band.
    “I dunno. Just got a lot on my mind, I guess.”
    “Like what?” she pushes, picking up her pencil and playing with it.
    “You know, the usual girl drama.” I give a weak smile because I know, as soon as the words leave my lips, this information will set her off.
    “Oh—I love drama. Tell me more!” she insists, leaning into me with interest, the way she always does.
    Hmm, which crazy thing should I share with her? The part where the Lady in Black burns my brain into a crispy critter, or the part where a Grungy Gang matriculates out of thin air to try to kill me? Everything sounds so ridiculous, so I stick with the most tame. No need to scare my new friend away.
    “Well, for one, I kinda have a thing for a guy,” I say. Macey’s eyes light up.
    “But?” she asks, her eyes grow even larger, if that’s possible.
    “But, I have no idea who he is, and—well—he’s kind of mysterious.” Mysterious —that’s a good word for him.
    “Hmm, that is definitely a drama problem, but I love mysterious boys.” She leans closer and tips her pencil to her chin. “Is he