This is my new normal, I think dully, unzipping my coat as I slog up the steps of the school bus the next day.
I take the bus to school.
I slog through the wet leaves in the courtyard.
I wipe my fogged-up glasses and my runny nose.
I stuff my giant coat in my miniature locker.
I walk to first period.
I walk past Fee and Celeste, who do not look at me. They don’t look at each other, either.
Fee’s bangs look somehow even shorter today, and she’s wearing an ill-fitting dress in a color that makes me think of dirty diapers. She has her chin raised, staring straight ahead. Celeste looks like she’s going to cry.
Look ahead, Hattie, I tell myself, moving to the back of the class.
I take my seat and see that Zooey is staring at Fee, her lips parted a little, her eyes wide. She looks … sad. And then she looks angry.
I look away. It’s no concern of mine. I’m a lone wolf. I’m going to do my time with the jinx, and then it will be broken.
I don’t have to talk to anyone during first period. Or second. Or lunch …
“What is your major malfunction?”
“Excuse me?” I look up, snapped out of my lone-wolf state.
Zooey is giving me a hard stare. “You’ve been, like, dragging your chin around school all day. What’s wrong?”
I didn’t consider this. I actually thought Zooey and I could just go on eating lunch and basically ignoring each other for the rest of the school year, until my jinx is over.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I answer.
She scoffs. “Right.” She pauses for a long moment and then says, “So … what are you reading?”
“This?” I ask, holding up my book for her to see. “Tilde’s Realm.”
“My big brother loves those,” Zooey says. I smile. And she continues. “But he’s a nerd.”
I drop my smile, open the book again.
“Relax!” Zooey says, laughing. “I’m joking. I call him a nerd, he calls me a plastic. It’s our thing. Are you excited for the last book to come out? Just before Christmas, right?”
I nod. “I’m on a waiting list.” I hesitate, not wanting her to make fun of me, but add, “My parents tried to convince me I should wait until Christmas to read it so they could give it to me as The Best Present Ever, but there is no way that’s going to happen.”
“My parents tried the same thing with my brother.” Zooey laughs. “I have a little brother, too. Ryan. He’s in second grade.”
“Oh, with Peanut Packenbush?” I say, wondering if I am somehow tempting the jinx to get worse.
Zooey snorts. “My little brother loves that girl.”
“So”—I try to remember—“were you at the Harvest Festival? Did you see him perform in the pageant?”
Zooey presses her lips together and breathes in through her nose. “No. I wasn’t feeling well that day.”
I nod, sensing there is more to the story, but also sensing that she doesn’t really want to say it.
“My parents took a video,” Zooey says, “and Ryan and I watch it, like, every morning. He says it’s because he wants me to see him sing, but I think it’s because he wants to look at Peanut.”
She gets so quiet that I try to think of something to say. “I’m an only child,” I finally offer. “But I have, like, two hundred cousins.”
“And like fifty percent of them are named Gina.”
Zooey laughs.
I hesitate a second before saying, “Can I ask you something?”
She nods.
“Why do you sit in here every day? I mean, couldn’t you sit with the, like … Upper Popular people?”
“I’m on hiatus from all that,” Zooey responds.
“Me too.”
“I noticed.”
“But … why? I mean, so what if the Ts disowned you. That doesn’t mean you have to go into hiding.”
“Not hiding, hi—”
“Hiatus. I know, but it just seems extreme.”
Zooey sighs. “People in this town don’t change, Hattie. You’ll realize that. They don’t change, and they won’t let you change, either. Sometimes you just have to, like … opt out of everything if you want to be anything other than what they want you to be.”
“So you don’t want to be popular?” I ask.
“I don’t want to be mean,” she says.
“Oh,” I say, surprised. I thought being mean was Zooey’s thing. From the stories I heard, she kind of enjoyed it. But since this is the second time she’s mentioned it, I guess maybe she’s serious.
“Why do you sit here every day?”
It’s not like I didn’t expect her to ask me the same question I’d asked her. I just don’t have an answer that wouldn’t result in the jinx getting worse. So I go for a noncommittal shrug. “I’m on hiatus, too.”
She studies me shrewdly. “You can tell me about it, you know. I’m a good listener. I was the head camper at camp. That’s, like, basically a junior counselor. All the girls came to me with their problems.”
“Maybe someday,” I say.
“All right. Keep your secrets … Moving on. Our topic is due to Ms. Lyle next Wednesday. I have to watch my brother after school tomorrow, so do you want to meet up at the historical society again Tuesday night, just to see if there’s anything else there?”
“Yeah, right.”
“What?”
“Two things. First, that will be Halloween. Don’t you have to, like, scare little children or something?”
“Ha-ha. That’s my night off,” she says drily. “Next?”
“Well … you’re making plans as if we’re not going to see each other here basically every day from now until then.”
Zooey shrugs. “Well, one of us might tire of the library before Tuesday. So I like to have things nailed down.”
“Oh, I am here all year,” I say with a laugh. “No way I’m leaving.”