Free Miss Matched by Shawn K. Stout

that’s why he wanted you to break up? Not because you and Jeremy are a terrible match and you both are . . .” She stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes. “Like that?”
    â€œWhat? I don’t know about that last part, but yep, that’s pretty much right,” said Loretta. She picked up the letter again and read, “ ‘Maybe we can m-e-a-t someday.’ ” That got Mrs. Miltenberger’s 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. “He also said he had a little help with the letter.”
    Fiona felt her face go Valentine’s Day red.
    â€œSo, you and Jeremy are—” asked Fiona.
    â€œBroken up,” said Loretta.
    â€œOh!” said Fiona. Now she had to sit down.
    â€œWe aren’t broken up because of this letter,” said Loretta, laughing even more. “I decided that, like, we just weren’t a good match after all.”
    â€œWhew.” Fiona put her head down on the table. “All this matchmaking and matchbreaking makes me tired. I’m done.”
    â€œThat’s too bad,” says Mrs. Miltenberger. “I was thinking about giving you a chance to make a match for me. You can’t do worse than the Bingo Broads.”
    â€œSorry, I’m out of business.”
    â€œWell, what’s your next club going to be?” asked Mrs. Miltenberger.
    Fiona shrugged. “I don’t think I’m extraordinary enough at anything to have a club.”
    â€œWhat?” said Loretta.
    â€œNot extraordinary?” said Mrs. Miltenberger, knocking on the table. “Who says?”
    â€œMe,” said Fiona. “Fiona says.”
    â€œPhoozywhattle,” said Mrs. Miltenberger. “What do you think ‘extraordinary’ means?”
    â€œIt means the opposite of ordinary,” said Fiona. “Special.”
    â€œÂ â€˜Extraordinary’ can also mean strange and unusual,” said Loretta, raising her eyebrows at Fiona. “Mysterious.”
    â€œMysterious?”
    Loretta nodded.
    â€œMysterious,” Fiona repeated, smiling. Just like a teenager.
    â€œOne of a kind,” said Mrs. Miltenberger. “Thereis only one Fiona Elise Finkelstein. Ballet dancer, snow angel, matchmaker.”
    â€œMatch breaker ,” added Loretta.
    â€œAnd if that’s not extraordinary,” said Mrs. Miltenberger, “then I don’t know what is.”
    â€œOne of a kind, huh?” said Fiona, thinking it over. “Kind of like snowflakes.”
    â€œSnowflakes?” said Loretta.
    â€œNo two are alike.” Now that’s extraordinary. But Fiona never thought about herself that way before. “There is only one me. And I am pretty good at being her.”
    â€œThe best,” said Mrs. Miltenberger.
    Fiona smiled. “That’s flat-out something.”

• Epilogue •

    F iona chomped on her Thinking Pencil. She eyed the clock in Mr. Bland’s classroom and then eyed Mr. Bland. It was the last day of the month, which meant it was Milo Bridgewater’s last day as electrician. Which meant that tomorrow—fingers crossed—could be her first. She had already asked Mr. Bland twice when he was going to draw names for classroom jobs. “I’ll let you know when I decide,” he had said.
    But Fiona couldn’t 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 didn’t call on her, she shook it wildly, like a wet dog. “If you ask me one more time about classroom jobs, Fiona Finkelstein,” Mr. Bland said in a calm voice that had splinters in it, “I’m going to remove your name from the bucket.”
    Some of the splinters stuck. She dropped her hand and