Free Extraordinary October by Diana Wagman

I felt myself flow into him. I can’t explain it any other way, but it was as if my blood was a river rushing toward him, impossible to stop or slow down.
    â€œLet go of her,” Trevor said.
    â€œMake me,” Walker challenged.
    â€œYou may be something special in your world—”
    Trevor launched himself at Walker, grabbing him around the waist. Walker fell back against the bench. Trevor punched him hard. Walker brought his knee up between Trevor’s legs. Trevor yelled. Someone across the quad yelled, “Fight! Fight!” I was livid. I hated both of them at that minute. Maybe I should have been thrilled or flattered that two guys were fighting over me, but they just looked like a couple of stupid idiots.
    â€œStop it!” I said. “Stop it right now!”
    I don’t think I had ever stopped anyone from doing anything before, but they pushed apart and both stared at their feet, embarrassed.
    Then they each apologized to me.
    â€œI am going to class,” I said. “I can’t go look for Luisa now. That’s ridiculous. I have no idea where she is. And Walker, if you have something to tell me—you can tell me after school.”
    Trevor started to protest, but I stuck to my guns. “Nope. Don’t start. I’ll see you in English.”
    â€œBut, Princess,” Walker objected.
    â€œDon’t call me that. Do you know how sexist and demeaning that is? Like I’m some Barbie doll.” I shook my head. “I am not a princess. I am a person—just like you.” He put out his hand and I jumped back. I was not going to let him touch me.
    Trevor said, “You won’t go with me to find Luisa?”
    â€œYou’re being ridiculous.”
    He shrugged and gave his shaggy hair a shake. He looked up in the sky. “I’m going,” he said and then he smiled. “You’ll wish you had come with me.”
    I watched him jog to the parking lot and get in his car, a dusty red Prius and I did want to follow him. I bit my lip to keep from calling to him to wait and take me along. The quad was empty. The bell had rung and everybody else had gone into school. Walker stood there. He wanted something.
    â€œWhat?” I said. I was irritated. “Just say it.”
    A crow cawed in the distance. Walker looked up. I heard another crow. Again, my imagination, I thought the crow was saying, “There she is!”
    â€œWe have to get out of here,” Walker said.
    â€œSchool.”
    â€œNo,” he said firmly. “No time.” He looked at me, and I saw him trying to decide what to tell me. “Those birds—” he began.
    â€œThey’re just crows.”
    â€œTrust me.”
    Why did he keep saying that when obviously he was not the least bit trustworthy?
    There was a sudden swoop above us. A flock or, as they’re officially called, a murder of crows flew toward us and circled over our heads.
    â€œRun!” Walker cried. “Into the trees!”
    I ran into the park surrounding school as the birds came after me. Southern California black walnut trees are not very big, but they were all the protection I had. The crows were good at navigating through the trees. I kept tripping over sticks and rocks. I was trying to bob and weave, keep them guessing, but they were agile and more practiced at flying than I was at running. Plus the grove of trees was tiny. I was almost out the other side.
    â€œHere!” Walker shouted at me.
    I dodged back to him as he picked up a branch and thrust it at the crows. I refused to act like the dumb girl in the horror movie and just stand there and scream. I picked up a branch too. He and I stood back-to-back swinging our sticks. I got a little wild and managed to hit his arm. I scratched him pretty badly.
    â€œOw!”
    â€œOh my god. Sorry!”
    A great big crow, the seeming leader of the bunch, hovered just out of reach in front of me. It stared at me and if a