Ghost of a Chance (13 page)

“Look what you did!” Madison shrieks. Her face is all red, and she looks super-mad. Madder than the time she and Katie Dobbs wore the same dress to school, even.

“I didn't do it,” I say. “You did.” I'm still holding my piece of the scarf, and I get a secret thrill of satisfaction when I see it's the bigger piece. If someone had to decide whose ripped scarf this was, they would definitely have to rule that it belonged to me. Possession is nine tenths of the law, or whatever it is they say.

Madison's eyes start to bug out of her head even more, and her face turns even redder. I don't know why she's getting so worked up about a dumb scarf. I mean, she stole Brandon from me. Isn't that enough for her? Apparently not, because the next thing I know, Madison starts to take a few steps toward me.

“You're dead, Williams,” she says.

Okay, now I'm kind of scared. I don't want to
fight
Madison. It's one thing to talk crap to her and call her by her last name, but—

“Girls!” Mr. Jacobi appears between us, breaking it up. And that's when I realize that the rest of our classmates have formed a loose circle around us, watching the drama unfold. “This is very unbecoming behavior, especially when we are guests at another school, one in which we are supposed to be setting examples for impressionable young minds!” He shakes his head in disgust, like he can't believe what hooligans we are. “I thought you would know better than this.” He turns his attention toward me. “Especially you, Kendall. I would certainly think you'd want to be on your best behavior after what happened earlier.”

“Yes, Mr. Jacobi,” I say. Trying to explain would be pointless. Especially since it's not like I'm completely innocent in the whole thing.

“Now, are you girls done with this little display of immature behavior, or do we have to go back to school and have your parents come pick you up early?”

“No,” Madison says quickly. “We're done with it.”

“Good choice,” Lily says. “My parents would totally freak out if they found out Madison almost got into a fistfight.”

“Good,” Mr. Jacobi says. “Now please come inside. And I trust this will be the last I'll hear out of you two for the rest of the afternoon.”

We all start to traipse toward the double doors of the school. Right when we're about to go in, I catch Brandon
looking at me. My heart does a weird fluttery thing. What does he think about me and Madison fighting? Does he think it had to do with him asking her out? Does he think I'm even crazier than he already thought? Is he going to get a restraining order against me?

I open my mouth to say something to reassure him, something brilliant like
That wasn't about you; it was about a scarf
, but I chicken out.

And then he passes through the revolving doors and into the elementary school, leaving me standing there in the snow.

Mr. Jacobi hustles us
into the library of the elementary school, which is so cheery, I can't stand it. There are life-size pictures of fictional characters on the walls, like Nancy Drew and Encyclopedia Brown and Harry Potter and Percy Jackson. There's a display set up on a table in the middle of the room with a bunch of books and a big poster board that says,
READ THESE BOOKS BY OUR STUDENT AUTHORS!

Which is crazy. I mean, I've thought about being a writer for as long as I can remember, and the most I've ever written are lists of information that ghosts tell me. And these kids, who are way younger than me, are writing
books
. I'm sure they're short books, but still. A book is a book.

Hmm. Maybe my ghost notebook will turn out to be helpful someday. Maybe I'll end up writing a book about all my adventures. Starring a girl my age who can see ghosts and ends up having to break up with her boyfriend because of it. They always say to write what you know, and that's a story I know quite a lot about.

“Welcome,” Mr. Jacobi says when we're all gathered around him, standing in between the tables. “Now, as you know, the peer tutoring program is new this year, and so we're all kind of flying blind here.” He chuckles to himself, but no one else laughs.

“What we're going to do is break you up into new groups. We decided it would be best to have groups of four and have a mix of seventh and eighth graders in each group. That way, if your students are having problems with a particular skill set, there will most likely be a middle school student in your group who can help.”

We're going to be getting new groups! That's the best news I've heard all day. Could you imagine being stuck with Brandon and Madison? Shudder. Especially after what just happened between us outside. Madison might try to maul me or something.

“Hey!” a voice chirps next to my ear. Oh. Micah.

I don't answer, just give him a tight smile and hope he gets the message. Which is that he should go away and leave me alone. But he doesn't.

Instead, he moves closer. “So you've been kind of mysterious lately,” he says. “You haven't been to the salon. And we never really got a chance to talk about how you ran out of the bowling alley the other night.” He raises his eyebrows at me and gives me a smirk, like he's waiting for me to let him in on some kind of secret.

Leave it to Micah to think I'm being mysterious. Did it ever maybe cross his mind that something's wrong? That I didn't run out of the bowling alley or avoid him as some kind of ploy to get him to like me more, but that I might have actually been upset about something?

“Yeah, well, it was kind of weird when my boyfriend caught me there with you,” I say.

Micah laughs. “So Brandon was mad?”

“You could say that.”

“You guys weren't meant to be, anyway.” He grins. “Other wise you wouldn't have been hanging out with me, babe.”

“Don't call me ‘babe.' And we weren't really hanging out.”

“Does everyone have a group?” Mr. Jacobi calls. I look around. During the time I was having this very interesting (not) conversation with Micah, apparently everyone else was choosing their groups. Great.

I look around quickly to see if anyone needs a fourth person. There's nothing worse than not having a group. If you don't have a group, the teacher has to assign you to
one, and that pretty much lets everyone else know you're a loser. And why is Mr. Jacobi trusting us to pick our own groups, anyway? Kids are horrible at that, especially if we're supposed to make sure we have a mix of seventh and eighth graders in each one.

I'm just about to raise my hand and let Mr. Jacobi know I'm stranded (which he's probably going to be super-happy about because, let's face it, he hates me), but Micah beats me to it.

“Me and Kendall are partners,” he announces. “So we need two more people.”

Wow. Talk about being presumptuous. Although this is one time I'm actually happy Micah is acting like we're together. At least now it looks like I have someone who wants to work with me.

“Anyone else?” Mr. Jacobi asks us, annoyed. His eyes slip around the room. “Does anyone else not have a full group?”

No one says anything. Although it's kind of hard to hear Mr. Jacobi. He's talking pretty loudly, but the class is being louder. They're all excited at the prospect of being in groups.

I look around the room, hoping that someone else is going to need a group. The last thing I want is for me and Micah to be stuck working together alone. How totally awkward.

“Who doesn't have a group?” Mr. Jacobi screeches. “The amount of students here is equally divisible by four! Everyone should be in groups of four. That is why I chose four as a number!” Wow, he's really bent out of shape about this whole four-people-in-a-group thing. I wonder if maybe Mr. Jacobi has OCD. I saw a show about that on TLC. People who have it need to make sure everything is in multiples of the perfect number, and they get really anxious if it doesn't happen. It would definitely explain a lot about his mental state.

“We don't have a full group,” a boy's voice says. Oh, thank God. Now I won't have to be stuck all alone with Micah. Although I really hope it's not Jason Fields we end up with. That kid's the worst.

“Who?” Mr. Jacobi demands. “Who is that talking?” He stands up on his tiptoes and looks over the crowd, trying to see who it is who's raising their hand.

I look too. And when I see who it is, my heart stops. It's Brandon. And Madison. Brandon and Madison are going to be the other two people in our group.

“Good,” Mr. Jacobi says. “Brandon Dunham and Madison Baker, please join Kendall and Micah. I realize that you are all in the same grade, but I see we're short eighth graders.”

My hand immediately shoots into the air. “Mr. Jacobi,” I say, “I really don't think it's the best idea for me and Madison to be working together.” He gives me a blank stare, like he
has completely forgotten that me and Madison were just about to tear each other's throats out. “You know, because of the, uh . . . because of what just happened outside.”

Mr. Jacobi pulls himself up to his full height (which can't be more than five and a half feet) and says, “Ms. Williams, are you saying that you're unable to work with Ms. Baker?”

“Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying.” Is Mr. Jacobi crazy? Maybe memory loss is one of the complications of his OCD. Although it definitely didn't mention anything about that in the show I saw.

“So if you are unable to exist in a group situation, does that mean you are unable to complete this extra credit?”

“No,” I say, frustrated. “That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying I should probably have another group. Or that maybe me and Micah should just work alone.”

Next to me, Micah smirks. But I'm past the point of caring. Even working by myself with Micah is preferable to working with Madison and Brandon. That's a disaster waiting to happen, not to mention the mental stress it would bestow upon me.

“So you're saying you should get special treatment?” Mr. Jacobi laughs. “Everyone else here is able to work in a group of four. But if you don't think you're able to play by the rules, Ms. Williams, then you're free to wait in the main
office until we're finished, and then I will remove you from the program.”

He gives me a stern look, and I know he's thinking about the fact that if I don't get this extra credit, I'm probably going to fail math.

“No, that's okay,” I mumble.

“Good,” he says.

“Don't worry, babe,” Micah says, slinging his arm over my shoulder. “We're going to have a great time.”

Yeah. Really great.

“Everyone chose a table to sit at, and then we will bring in the students!” Mr. Jacobi says with a flourish, like he's the emcee at a Justin Bieber concert and not just announcing that some little kids are coming into the library to meet with us.

Everyone starts choosing their tables.

Madison and Brandon sit down at a table on the other side of the room. Of course. Leave it to Madison to just expect us to go over to where she's sitting, instead of picking a table in the middle of the room. Ugh. How annoying.

Micah and I make our way over to their table.

“What's up, Micah?” Madison purrs. She stands up and reaches out to hug him. Which makes no sense. Why would she be hugging Micah? I thought her and Brandon were a thing now. Then I realize she's doing it because she thinks
I
like Micah. So of course she would make it a point to go out of her way to flirt with him. Ugh.

“Not much,” Micah says, hugging her right back. So much for loyalty. “What's up with you?”

“You know, the usual.” She sighs and gives a little giggle, like her life is so crazy and exciting, she can't even explain everything that's going on.

I sit down across from Madison, mostly because I don't want to be sitting across from Brandon. Actually, I don't even want to
look
at Brandon. I wonder if I can get away with doing this whole entire tutoring session without looking at him once.

Not looking, not looking, not looking.

I wonder how long I can go. Five seconds . . . ten seconds . . . Wow, this is easier than I thought. What would be the point of looking at him, anyway? Just so I can see how totally adorable he is? Thirty seconds, forty seconds . . . one minute.

One minute without looking! Wow, I am so over him, it's crazy. Why didn't I realize how over him I was?

I have a little cheering party in my head for myself.

And then sneak a glance at Brandon.

Oops.

He's wearing a soft-looking yellow fleece over a hunter-green T-shirt that brings out his eyes. I never appreciated his eyes as much as I should have when we were together. And then I catch Madison catching
me
looking at Brandon. She gives me a little smirk.

Brandon has his head down, and he's looking through the papers in his binder. Which I'm sure is just a distraction technique. There's no way he's really that concerned with whatever's in his math binder.

“So,” Micah says. “How much work do you think we're really going to have to do today?”

“I don't know,” Madison says. She wrinkles up her nose. “Hopefully, we'll get some kids that are already halfway smart.”

“I don't think that's the point,” Brandon says. “It's the kids who are having trouble who need to stay after and get help. Not the smart ones.”

“Well, maybe we'll get lucky,” Micah says. He rolls an old homework paper into a ball and starts pushing it around on the table. “Kendall,” he says. “Go long!”

He bats the paper at me, but I'm so taken off guard that it just flies by and onto the floor.

“Oh,” I say, “sorry. I wasn't expecting that.”

“It's okay.” Micah gets up and picks the paper up off the floor, then starts bouncing it up and down on his hand like a volleyball. Madison giggles, like it's the funniest thing she's ever seen.