Free Crush Control by Jennifer Jabaley Page B

Didn’t she hear that on a regular basis? For different reasons, I’m sure, but still. “Uh, I’m just a little panicked,” I improvised, “because I’ve never read A Midsummer’s Night Dream and it seems like I’m going to be pretty behind.” At least that was true.
    Georgia popped up from her backpack and tossed her book onto the desk. It was dog-eared and wrinkled and looked like she had spilled some nail polish on the cover. “I can bring you up to speed,” she offered.
    â€œThat’d be great,” I said. “Do you mind?” I found myself asking for Mia’s permission. She just sort of commanded the room that way.
    â€œNo, of course not,” she said and folded her hands on top of the desk. She seemed interested to hear Georgia’s explanation.
    Georgia began her summary. “Hermia loves Lysander but her wicked father insists that she marry Demetrius.” Georgia pulled out a sheet of white lined paper and began to diagram the love triangle. “Hey, do you mind if I borrow that?” She reached for Mia’s pen and began to color code the diagram. “So Hermia and Lysander escape to the woods, but Demetrius follows because he totally digs Hermia. Then Helena follows Demetrius into the woods because she totally digs him . It’s a complicated mess.” And from the circles and arrows on the page, I could see it was.
    â€œThat was good,” Mia said, her arms propped on the desk, totally immersed in the description. She looked over at Georgia’s mangled book, perhaps a little surprised that someone could fully comprehend a reading assignment without detailed notes. “But then in the woods,” Mia added, “a fairy uses the juice from a magical flower to put a love spell on Lysander to make him fall in love with Helena.”
    â€œA love spell?” I asked, intrigued.
    They nodded in unison.
    Just then, the classroom door opened and in walked Quinton, all flushed and glowing like he’d just ridden a wave to class. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, handing the teacher a note.
    Mrs. Stabile glanced down at the paper then scanned the classroom. She pointed over at our group. “Join them; they only have three.”
    Quinton sauntered over. He grabbed an empty desk and chair then picked them up into the air with no signs of strain, like he was lifting a Kleenex off the floor instead of a hunk of steel and wood. He placed them down into our mix. “Hey,” he said to Mia, not really even noticing me or Georgia.
    â€œWhere’ve you been?” Mia asked. “You weren’t in history.”
    Quinton shook his head slightly, like he was disgusted with himself. “I know, man. And we have a test on Friday. Can I borrow your notes?”
    Mia nodded. “What happened?”
    Quinton let out a long breath. “I woke up at my neighbor’s house this morning—sleeping on their couch.”
    â€œSounds like a story there,” Mia said.
    â€œDamn sleepwalking,” Quinton said. “It’s getting worse. I’ve never left the house before.”
    â€œYou sleepwalked to your neighbor’s?” Mia asked, wide-eyed. “How did you get inside the house?”
    He shrugged. “Who knows?”
    I laughed and he turned toward me, noticing I was there finally.
    â€œHey, it’s the hypnotist girl,” he said.
    I smiled at him, a small tingle coursing through my veins because he remembered a detail about me other than the humping dog, the M&M T-shirt, or Cher lyrics.
    â€œHypnotist?” Mia and Georgia asked at the same time.
    Mia started to click the four different colors of her pen. Click, click, click .
    â€œShe’s the Hip Hypnotist,” Quinton said, flashing a sparkly grin. “From Vegas.”
    Another detail. My cheeks flushed. Suddenly I had this image in my head of me and Quinton and Mia huddled on the green chenille couch in my new