Kamryn must have read the Oracle, because she is at math help today. She hangs out for almost half an hour at my table. Never mind that it feels awkward and we have nothing to talk about. That’s to be expected at the start of a relationship. Right?
We do a little math too. So there.
I walk home like I’m on a cloud.
After I fix myself a snack, I head up to my room to check the blog. I’m surprised to already find an entry from Heart Huntress.
Dear Oracle. I went looking for that number-logical guy today. The helper? I’m not sure if I was looking in the right place. The guy I sat with was nice enough, but we didn’t really have anything in common, and I didn’t exactly feel a spark. I think I might have got the wrong guy. —HH
Nothing in common?
No spark?
I chew my lip for a couple of minutes. How can I make her feel a spark?
I force myself to read through a few other questions before I write her back. I need to think through my reply.
The questions people write in with keep getting better and better. A couple of people have written in seeking advice about their friendships. One guy asked me to help him talk his sister out of getting a tattoo of her boyfriend’s name on her arm. Another asked me where he could find cool shirts cheap. I don’t feel like a fraud when I’m advising people on stuff like where to buy clothes or how to handle their parents’ embarrassing social habits.
Only when I’m deliberately misleading people in love.
I pick the questions I’ll answer today. I tell one girl that her brother’s friend has no right to pressure her to give him pictures of herself in a bikini. I tell another that since this is the third time she’s caught her boyfriend in a big lie, it’s time to cut him loose, even though it’ll hurt. I explain to one guy that if his current flame doesn’t respond to his texts within a day, then yeah, she’s losing the love.
Only after I’m finished these do I allow myself to settle into a response to Kamryn.
Dear Huntress. As I see it—
I like that part, that “as I see it” bit. Makes the advice sound sort of fortune-telly.
As I see it, you absolutely had the correct person today.
Wow, it feels so…so…out there to write that.
But there aren’t exactly a lot of options. If I’m going to use the Oracle to steer Kamryn into my world, I’ve got to be crazy and direct.
I decide I’m okay with it.
But I need something to get us further down this road I’ve started us on.
I need a ruse. Something to get us talking.
Today Mr. Winehouse mentioned we’ll be starting our research projects on early civilizations in social studies.
It’s the perfect setup.
I see an opportunity to work with this young man in a partnership. You will be reading, or writing, or creating media. It will be about something ancient, but I can’t see exactly what.
I decide to leave her with some very specific instructions.
You will need to approach him. If you don’t, he will choose a different partner.
Then, for the clincher, I add, And the course of your life will be forever changed.
And then I click Publish.
On Monday, everybody’s talking about the dance. I had to stay home with my mom, who’d just had a wisdom tooth pulled and was still loopy from the painkillers.
Kyle sure wasn’t going to miss it.
So I stayed home.
It sounded like it was fun. Kyle brought home some other girl, not Kamryn. They stayed up late watching Invasion of the Body Snatchers, and then I didn’t see him for the rest of the weekend.
So Kamryn is, without a doubt, not on Kyle’s radar.
A greedy little part of me rubs its hands at the thought, She’s mine, all mine. The rational side of me shrieks with terror—what am I going to do if she takes the Oracle seriously and decides to come after me?
I find out soon enough. In third period, Mr. Winehouse tells us about our research projects. Ancient civilizations.
“This project requires partner work, people,” says Mr. Winehouse now. “Two heads are better than one.”
As soon as the words leave his mouth, there’s the familiar rustle as people turn in their seats to make eye contact. I keep my head down. I focus intently on the Dementor I’m doodling in the side of my page. I hope Morgan doesn’t ask me to work with him. Normally, I’d be happy to, but today…
A hand taps my shoulder, and I jump, jabbing a thick line of ink through my Dementor’s hood.
I turn. Kamryn is standing beside my desk. She looks kind of mad.
“What’s that?” Her eyes are on the Dementor. It’s pretty good, I think. He’s floating in midair, and his cloak is in tatters. It wisps out behind him as he slides along.
“It’s a Dementor,” I say.
She pulls her brows together a bit. “A mental what?” she says.
“A Dementor,” I say. “From Harry Potter?”
“Oh.” She tosses her head, sounding bored. “So listen, do you have a partner?”
“Not yet,” I say.
She looks away. “Do you want to do the Romans or the Mayans?”
What if I wanted to do the Mesopotamians? Wait. Did she even ask me if I wanted to be her partner? My mind fumbles for protocol.
“Whichever,” I say. “I’m easy.”
“Let’s do the Mayans,” she says, sitting in the desk behind me. She pulls out her iPad and sets it on the tabletop. “Tuesdays and Thursdays are the only days I can meet after school, so we need to get a lot done during class.”
I nod. “Okay.” I want to ask her how the dance went, but I can’t for the life of me figure out how to bring it up.
I already know enough though. Things didn’t work out with her and Kyle.
She pushes the iPad toward me. “Look at the outline,” she says, pointing to the black screen. “Wino said it’s on the class web page. We want to make sure we get everything in there.”
“Wino?” The second the words are out of my mouth, I realize she’s talking about Mr. Winehouse.
She rolls her eyes.
“Never mind,” I say. “I get it.” I’m irritated that I asked.
I touch the screen and bring up our class page.
Kamryn looks around the room, bored, while I locate our assignment. On her iPad. While she just sits there.
She squints at me. “Do you read the Oracle?” Her question is sudden.
My ears grow hot. I am so glad my hair covers them.
“Nope,” I say, without looking up. “What’s that?”
“Nothing,” she says. “Just some website.”
Then she sits forward and looks me up and down. She scrunches her eyes up a little bit. “Do you always wear skater clothes? Or do you ever wear, I don’t know, nice stuff?”
I’m shocked that she put me down like that, right to my face. She’s kind of fearless.
I’m kind of embarrassed.
And now I’m pissed off.
I speak before I think. Force of habit. “Do you ever say nice things?” I ask. “Or do you only, I don’t know, say mean stuff?”
Kamryn stares at me for a couple of seconds, then sits back in her chair. She folds her arms.
“Just hurry up and find the assignment,” she says, jerking her chin toward the iPad. “Let’s get this over with.”