thatâs why he wanted you to break up? Not because you and Jeremy are a terrible match and you both are . . .â She stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes. âLike that?â
âWhat? I donât know about that last part, but yep, thatâs pretty much right,â said Loretta. She picked up the letter again and read, â âMaybe we can m-e-a-t someday.â â That got Mrs. Miltenbergerâs giggles going again.
Fiona shook her head. She could not believe Milo had tricked her. She had even worn that stupid skull ring!
Loretta cleared her throat. âHe also said he had a little help with the letter.â
Fiona felt her face go Valentineâs Day red.
âSo, you and Jeremy areââ asked Fiona.
âBroken up,â said Loretta.
âOh!â said Fiona. Now she had to sit down.
âWe arenât broken up because of this letter,â said Loretta, laughing even more. âI decided that, like, we just werenât a good match after all.â
âWhew.â Fiona put her head down on the table. âAll this matchmaking and matchbreaking makes me tired. Iâm done.â
âThatâs too bad,â says Mrs. Miltenberger. âI was thinking about giving you a chance to make a match for me. You canât do worse than the Bingo Broads.â
âSorry, Iâm out of business.â
âWell, whatâs your next club going to be?â asked Mrs. Miltenberger.
Fiona shrugged. âI donât think Iâm extraordinary enough at anything to have a club.â
âWhat?â said Loretta.
âNot extraordinary?â said Mrs. Miltenberger, knocking on the table. âWho says?â
âMe,â said Fiona. âFiona says.â
âPhoozywhattle,â said Mrs. Miltenberger. âWhat do you think âextraordinaryâ means?â
âIt means the opposite of ordinary,â said Fiona. âSpecial.â
â âExtraordinaryâ can also mean strange and unusual,â said Loretta, raising her eyebrows at Fiona. âMysterious.â
âMysterious?â
Loretta nodded.
âMysterious,â Fiona repeated, smiling. Just like a teenager.
âOne of a kind,â said Mrs. Miltenberger. âThereis only one Fiona Elise Finkelstein. Ballet dancer, snow angel, matchmaker.â
âMatch breaker ,â added Loretta.
âAnd if thatâs not extraordinary,â said Mrs. Miltenberger, âthen I donât know what is.â
âOne of a kind, huh?â said Fiona, thinking it over. âKind of like snowflakes.â
âSnowflakes?â said Loretta.
âNo two are alike.â Now thatâs extraordinary. But Fiona never thought about herself that way before. âThere is only one me. And I am pretty good at being her.â
âThe best,â said Mrs. Miltenberger.
Fiona smiled. âThatâs flat-out something.â
⢠Epilogue â¢
F iona chomped on her Thinking Pencil. She eyed the clock in Mr. Blandâs classroom and then eyed Mr. Bland. It was the last day of the month, which meant it was Milo Bridgewaterâs last day as electrician. Which meant that tomorrowâfingers crossedâcould be her first. She had already asked Mr. Bland twice when he was going to draw names for classroom jobs. âIâll let you know when I decide,â he had said.
But Fiona couldnât wait any longer. The day was almost over. She raised her hand again. WhenMr. Bland looked the other way, she shook her hand at him. First, she shook it slowly, like a shivering apple. Then, when he still didnât call on her, she shook it wildly, like a wet dog. âIf you ask me one more time about classroom jobs, Fiona Finkelstein,â Mr. Bland said in a calm voice that had splinters in it, âIâm going to remove your name from the bucket.â
Some of the splinters stuck. She dropped her hand and