Back to School

Facing a new challenge three newby witches return to school.

Bethany scowled, pacing the school corridor. The smell of male teenage sweat, old socks, stale deodorant, ancient bananas, old socks and ink filtered through the overpowering layers of alien musk and singed hair. Bethany counted the years since she trudged similar corridors and halls, sweated through classes and suffered the angst of young love.

Stella, her guide and close friend, sat in a huddle. Knees clutched against her chest, chalk smudged on her clothes, her skin and through her hair. Her eyes were closed, her fingers crushing a small wedge of chalk. At her feet an ornate pattern of runes and flourishing scroll work stretched across the worn linoleum.

Leaning against the row of lockers Mark, the group’s protector, swung a baseball bat, as though practising for sword play.

Bethany could see the riffle of air as the wood moved. The organic energy flowed, where Mark poured his spells. Still new to the whole scope of magic, Stella and Mark completed her ‘team’.

Three familiars waited outside. Bethany watched the sea eagle rise on thermals. She tore her focus away from the bird, her familiar. A doberman bitch sat erect, watching the wall where Stella sat, as though able to see the witch through the brickwork. Mark's familiar, a huge carpet snake wasn't visible, but Bethany knew the cold blooded reptile would be close by, waiting for Mark's return, or contact.

Three new sorcerers. Each still finding their way through a learning maze of magic. 

They now faced a challenge well beyond their limited knowledge of dimensions and other worlds.

“It’s not Dave’s fault.” Mark balanced the baseball bat, come wizard’s staff, between his hands. His brow scrunched tight, marring his stunning looks. His wrist twisted slightly, refracting light caught on a woven metal band clasped around his arm. Bethany tore her eyes away from the muscles flexing in Mark’s forearm and biceps.

She needed to concentrate. Not on his scent, nor his piercing eyes, but on the danger lurking beyond the closed doors of the science lab.

“Doesn’t matter whose fault it is.” She said, trying to keep her voice controlled. Being the first to receive her gift, the newly formed sorcerers looked to her for leadership. Mark and Stella, as her team, shared the responsibility. Dave’s mistake needed to be fixed, before the problem hurt more people.

“He just wanted to open his grandmother’s window. You know he cares for her. The window was jammed, so he tried to use his magic.”

“And he opened a portal to another world… and allowed a creature access to this one.” Stella muttered. She raked chalk powdered fingers through her hair. Bethany didn’t comment. If they survived, Stella’s disarray would be overlooked.

“Dave’s on his way to hospital. Grace, (his guide), is with him. When he regains consciousness, she will try to find out exactly what spell he used, so we can un do it.” Mark spoke with confidence that seemed far removed from their present situation. Bethany admired his stoic acceptance of his role as protector, leader and support person. She struggled to control the panic forcing blood through her veins and sucking air into her lungs. Mark’s logic and presence kept her focussed, proving the success of her choice in bestowing magic on him.

A rumble and a roar set the air in the corridor vibrating.

Stella grabbed the bracelet circling her wrist. “The other teams have managed to set confining spells around the school’s perimeter.” Stella said, looking up. “While they are working as a group the creature should be trapped within the school grounds. They will try to close in, keep it in this building… if possible.”

“It’s moving…” Mark warned, turning toward the science lab doors, looming like a threat at the far end of the corridor. “Bethany…”

“I know…” She swallowed. “I am ready. Even if I don’t look like I am.” She lifted the rapier she had chosen as her weapon. Borrowed, on a permanent loan from her brother, the blade now carried her most potent spells. Spells of defence, accuracy, damage and stamina all wrapped like spider web around the steel. 

Still it didn’t feel like enough. She didn’t want to be close enough to the creature beyond the doors, to need the blade.

“Stella, as soon as Grace knows what spell Dave used, let us know.” Bethany shook her head. “No, when you work out what we need to send the creature back where it came from… then let us know. We will need everyone to join us when we work our magic. Newbies as we are.”

A screech, the sound of breaking glass and the yowl of a frightened animal reached them.

Mark shrugged. “Come on Beth, our friend is getting restless. We need to keep it contained, while we can.”

Beth nodded. “Stella, tell Grace not to waste time. Please.”

Mark rolled his shoulders, cricked his neck and flashed a grin toward Bethany. “Come on. First time in combat isn’t fun, but you’ll do okay. I’ll take point. You keep casting spells.”

Bethany clutched the sword in her hand. She prayed it was stronger than the ornamental replicas she had seen on ebay.

Time would tell.

Together they approached the closed doors. Through the small glass inserts Bethany saw movement. She wanted to turn and run, sprint toward the clear night, race across the field and leap the school yard fence. Instead she took another step. Beside her an emergency fire extinguisher, axe and fire blanket leered at her through a glass panel.

BREAK GLASS IN CASE OF EMERGENCY.

Glancing toward Mark, she smashed the pommel of her sword through the glass and grabbed the axe. Mark snatched up the fire extinguisher. Bethany tore open the blanket. If the creature could burn Dave, the blanket might be useful.

“Nigel did turn off the gas and electricity to the lab, didn’t he?” She waited for Mark to nod before she took her next step. The crunch of glass under her feet made her feel reckless, brave, ready for the conflict. Her adrenaline rushed and she grinned again. Even if the whole bravado was an illusion, it felt better than the dreadful fear consuming her moments before. The feeling seemed magical.

Of course, the gestalt of new sorcerers were combining their strength and covering her fear with their courage. Good for them. Only they didn’t have to come face to face with the creature.

A crash brought her out of her musing.

The doors splintered and disintegrated in an explosion of enraged creature.

Mark lunged forward. Bethany lifted her sword in one hand, the axe in the other.

She stood her ground as Mark flung himself past the creature’s bulk.

More like a crocodile than a dragon. 

Marked leapt over protruding legs and slammed his weapon hard onto the reptilian tail.

As the beast swung to retaliate, Bethany lurched forward. Her sword thrust in front of her. She aimed at the moving bulk beneath the creature’s jaw. There a dull red glow showed the heat source for the beast’s flame throwing talent.

Mark’s actions caused the beast to turn, spewing forth flame. Bethany’s sword lunge struck soft flesh, tearing the skin as the reptile turned. Not enough to do much damage, but the beast flung its head back toward her. Flames followed. Smoke and fire spilled across the wall and rolled along the floor. Lino tiles bubbled. Paint peeled and the glass in the corridor windows cracked.

Bethany stepped back as her crocodilian foe turned yellow eyes in her direction. Lumbering toward her, flames flowing freely along the narrow hall.

She used the fire blanket as a shield. Mark shouted and his baseball bat again smashed onto the spiked tail. The crocodile screamed and turned. Its huge body blocked the limited space and for a moment Mark had time to retreat.

Bethany tried to get closer, swinging the axe, chopping at the hind quarters before the tail came slashing toward her.

Stella’s voice echoed in her head. “Dave’s spell…”

“Go on!” Bethany watched Mark lift the fire extinguisher, training foam at the creature’s flames.

Billowing clouds of steam, smoke and scorched wood work blocked her vision. Mark’s voice carried through the yowling conflagration.

“By the light of Orion’s sword, open, orfacemywrath.”

“Gather the others, we need to do this together.” Bethany touched her bracelet. 

“Mark, I will open the portal. Hang in there for a moment more.”

“Hurry.” One word. Unnecessary.

Releasing the axe, Bethany clutched the bracelet. The energy of shared power flowed through Bethany, warming her, inspiring confidence.

She lifted a hand, described a circle as she repeated Dave’s spell.

A flickering blue halo formed. Vision through the circle appeared distorted, as though she looked through a layer of water.

“Right… here we go. Mark… it’s time.”

Bethany grabbed the axe and hurled it with all her strength. The spinning weapon slewed passed the glowing portal. Bethany added a spell of accuracy and power to her throw. The axe tumbled through the air.

The creature’s focus on Mark broke when the axe struck home. Although the damage to thick scales seemed minor, the crocodile spun. Massive bulk negotiated the narrow hall with amazing speed.

“Come on!” Bethany taunted. Waving the silver fire blanket and flourishing her sword. “Come and get me!”

She stepped forward, close to the portal, tempting the beast to attack her.

A flurry of flame spewed toward her. The orange tongue didn’t touch her.

The portal worked. All she needed to do was to persuade the creature to step through the circle.

She waved her arms, using the blanket as a flag. The sword as a distraction. The creature paused.

“Come on!” Desperation crept into her tone. The portal took too much energy to hold open.

  Flames licked at the floor, the walls and the ceiling. Still the beast remained where it stood, thrashing its head from side to side. Not stepping forward.

Mark’s figure emerged through the smoke screen. He leapt onto the creature’s scaled back, running along its spine. When he reached its neck he jumped clear and sprinted passed its snapping jaws. Dodging the portal, he joined Bethany in front of the beast.

Enraged the crocodile charged forward. Straight through the portal.

“Close.” Bethany shouted, although sudden quiet filled the hallway.

Only smoke, debris and three bedraggled sorcerers remained in the wreckage.

“We did it.” Mark offered Bethany a high five. Stella scrambled to her feet, brushing chalk off her hands.

“Yea team. Teams…” Bethany clutched her bracelet. “We did it. Relax. Now to clear up the mess and get out of here before people start asking questions.”

“I vote for coffee and debrief at the Coffee Bean.” Stella sighed.

“Coffee… or something stronger. Coffee to begin with.” Mark agreed.

“Grace says Dave is recovering.” Stella scrambled to her feet. “Her healing spells are working well. They will meet us when he gets signed out of emergency.” 

Together the three newly chosen sorcerers trudged clear of the wreckage, turning their back on the looming school building. They greeted their strange assortment of familiars with relief.

The teams of human magic wielders gathered around them. Today's success filled them with renewed enthusiasm for their new talents. Pride blossomed within Bethany, each team would need to 'get schooled' in magic, but for now she was eager to leave the bricks and mortar of school behind.

***

Rosalie Skinner resides on the east coast of Australia when not totally immersed in the fantasy world of her writing.

Rosalie’s love of the ocean, nature, history and horses has enabled her to give her books an authentic air. Her latest achievement has been to ride through the Australian Snowy mountains and see the wild brumbies run. When not watching the migrating whales pass her doorstep she has more humble pastimes.

Other than being a published author, her greatest thrill is being a grandmother. Born over fourteen weeks early her granddaughter’s perfect development and growth are a miracle and joy.

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The Outfit

Sometimes the best outfit isn’t the one you planned.

***

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my head cocked to the left as I critically analyzed another outfit.

My favorite worn pair of black Sketchers and dark green knee socks. A little throwback to my Catholic school days. Nothing wrong there.

Green and gold plaid skirt. I held my hands at my sides, fingertips grazing the edge of the hem. Short, but still within the rules.

White oxford with sleeves rolled below the elbow. The rolling was perfect, but the collar was a different story. I couldn’t get it to stand the way I wanted—high in the back, edges flipped up and out just right. I’d tried buttoning and unbuttoning buttons, but it was useless. It didn’t look the way I wanted.

“Should have had a back-up plan,” I muttered as I undid the buttons and tossed the top onto the growing mountain of clothes piled on my bed.

Three weeks ago I’d picked out the perfect outfit to wear to for the first day at my new school: a cute sundress and strappy sandals. Then yesterday we got the notice from school concerning “appropriate clothing”. No spaghetti straps. No foul language or inappropriate comments on shirts. Skirts must touch your fingertips. No displaying of undergarments.

Goodbye sundress. It failed two of the requirements: spaghetti straps and too short by a fingernail.

If mom and I hadn’t gone back to our old home for a final goodbye, I would have known in enough time to plan something else out, but no such luck. Even though we’d left early in the morning, traffic was a nightmare, and we pulled into the driveway an hour after the stores closed. Mom had convinced me I’d find something in my closet, but so far nothing worked. They either failed the new rules, didn’t fit, or would make me look like a total dork. Not a good way to start a new year in a new school.

I opened my dresser and rooted through my T-shirts, halting on the forest green practice jersey I’d worn last year for soccer. A large, goldenrod-yellow number five filled the back and three matching stripes ran down each sleeve. I pulled it on and looked in the mirror.

Not bad.

A glance at the clock revealed I had five minutes to get down to the bus stop, or I’d be walking to school. This outfit would have to do as I had no time to change again.

I ran a brush through my golden blond hair and pulled it up into a high ponytail. A swipe of gloss, a spritz of body spray, and I was ready. I scooped up my messenger bag and ran out to the bus stop.

Twenty long minutes later I pushed through the doors of my new school, schedule gripped in my hand like a lifeline. Unlike my former school, Pine Valley was small enough that there was only one bus run for everyone in kindergarten through twelfth grade. And, based on what I saw this morning, high schoolers didn’t ride the bus. I’d definitely need to talk to my mom about driving. Or make friends with someone who could pick me up.

Students congregated in clumps in the lobby, and I sidestepped my way through, looking for the hallway with the lockers. I’d had a tour of all my classrooms two weeks ago, but the lockers hadn’t been assigned yet, so I had no idea where mine was.

A handful of students were already at their lockers, most still socializing in the lobby. I stopped in front of the first locker and checked the number. 102.

“Guess this is the even side.” I shifted my bag on my shoulder and peered down the hallway, calculating that my locker would be about halfway down.

When I reached the middle of the hall, I stopped and checked the numbers. 604. Shrugging, I backed up a few steps. 502.

“What the…” I looked at my schedule and then back at the lockers. 496, 498, 500, 502, 604, 606, 608. “Where’s 548?”

A group of guys in green and gold soccer jerseys walked by, nudging each other and chuckling as they passed. A red haired guy glanced at me, turned away, then did a double take.

“Geez, Eggleston,” Red smacked the guy beside him in the arm, “the season hasn’t even started and you already have a fan in the new girl.”

Eggleston turned, revealing a yellow five, inside a large ‘C’ on the left side of his shirt. Great. My outfit would have the entire school thinking I had a thing for the captain of the soccer team.

The captain stepped forward, brown shaggy bangs dipping into his eyes, and held out a hand. “Hi, I’m Ben Eggleston. Welcome to Pine Valley High.”

I hesitated, trying to read his body language to see if he was sincere in his greeting or getting ready to prank me. He didn’t give off any odd vibes, so I set my hand in his, surprised at the tingle that raced up my arm with the contact.

“Hi, I’m Rachel Brown, and I’m totally lost.” Heat burnt in my cheeks as I realized what I’d just said.

“Well, Rachel, it’s your lucky day. Seeing you seem to be my biggest fan,” he smiled, revealing a deep dimple in his cheek, “it would be rude of me not to help you. So, senior?”

“What? Oh, no. I’m a junior. You?”

“Senior.”

“I should have guessed, given your captain status.”

He shrugged. “Coach decides who wears the ‘C’. Last year it was a sophomore. This year it’s me. Who knows, next year it could be a freshman, although that’s unlikely. But…it could happen.” He pointed at my schedule. “You mentioned you’re lost. Not sure where your first classroom is?”

I grinned, charmed by his modesty and kindness. “No, I can’t seem to find my locker. Number 548. The numbers jump from 502 to 604.”

“Ah, yeah.” His cheeks pinkened and his lips twitched. I raised a brow, waiting to see what he was so amused and embarrassed about. “Over the summer a few of the seniors removed the number plates from some of the lockers and swapped them around hoping to confuse a few freshmen.”

“I see.” I bit back a chuckle. “And were you one of the pranksters?”

“No,” he shoved a hand through his hair, “but I was here when it happened.”

“And you just let it go?” Granted, I didn’t know Ben at all, but he didn’t seem like the kind of guy to stand back and let kids get in trouble.

He shrugged. “It was a harmless prank. If it was dangerous or mean, I’d have stepped in. Besides, the guys who did it will get the numbers swapped back around by the end of the day.”

“Great. So, how do I find my locker now?”

Ben grinned again, his dimple sending flutters to my heart. “That’s easy.” He led me over to locker 648. “It’s only fitting that my biggest fan be right beside me.” He pointed at his locker, 546.

I turned away, not sure how to respond to the knowledge I’d be locker mates with the hottest guy I’d ever seen. Hands steady, despite the edginess racing through me, I spun the dial and opened my locker. After dumping all my supplies inside, I grabbed what I’d need for first period. When I backed out, Ben was still there, leaning against his locker, waiting for me.

I closed my locker with a quiet click and faced Ben. “Guess this means I’ll need to come to your game, tonight. You know, to say thanks and all.”

“I’d like that. Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

He brushed a finger over the stripes on my shoulder, following them down my sleeve. “Don’t change your outfit. It’s about time I had a fan in my jersey up in the stands.”

I arched a brow, ignoring the butterflies swarming in my stomach, and pretended I wasn’t the least bit affected by his touch. “I find it hard to believe no one has ever worn your number. And this isn’t your jersey. It’s mine.”

“You play?”

I nodded. “Since I was five.”

“Me too. What position?”

I grinned. “All of them, but I’m best at goalie. You?”

“Forward.” He wiggled his brows. “It must be fate. Maybe we can play sometime, see just how good you are.”

“I’d like that. Name the day and time and I’ll be there.”

“You got it.” A bell rang and the noise level in the hall doubled. “May I walk you to your first class?”

I arched a brow. “Did they change the room numbers, too?”

He laughed. “No, I was just hoping to spend a little more time with you.”

“Sure.” I did a little happy dance inside, thrilled that the hottest guy in the school wanted to spend more time with me.

As we fell in step, I breathed silent thanks to whoever updated the clothing policy and forced me to wear a different outfit. Sure, my sundress would have been cute and flirty, but it was my old jersey that caught the eye of the guy who made my first day in a new school one to remember.

***

This story is set in the same world as The Boyfriend Project. 

Twisting tales one story at a time. 

YA author Mary Waibel’s love for fairytales and happy-ever fill the pages of her works. Whether penning stories in a medieval setting or a modern day school, magic and romance weave their way inside every tale. Strong female characters use both brain and brawn to save the day and win the heart of their men. Mary enjoys connecting with her readers through her website: marywaibel.blogspot.com

***

Breaking Routine by Kai Strand

Changing things up impacts more than just Sandy’s day.

***

“Check your watch,” Sandy predicted.

Hovering on the edge of his front stoop, the man glanced at his wrist before cautiously stepping down.

Sandy counted his twelve steps to the sidewalk. He always took twelve steps. At exactly the same time each morning Sandy watched him perform the same senseless routine. At the sidewalk he hesitated again before making a precise right angle and taking thirty-two steps to the corner across from Sandy’s school bus stop.

Just then the bus pulled up, blocking her view of the man. But she’d seen him often enough to know he would scan the street in both directions before turning a strict 180 degrees and reversing the routine back toward his front stoop. She assumed he picked up the morning paper on the way back inside, but she was always carted away before he reached the front step where the paper lay in wait.

Sandy flopped into her seat. Aaron already sat across the aisle and Jana was immediately behind her. It struck her they were as habitual as the man she rolled her eyes at each morning. She thought about her day ahead and realized that every move was choreographed until she got home from school. She walked a predictable path through the crowded halls. She stopped at the same places to visit with the same kids, everyday. She even had her bathroom visits worked into her routine.

When had she become so structured? Since she didn’t yet count her own steps, she assumed she wasn’t as phobic as the man she watched each morning, but that provided little comfort. In an odd way, his strange repetitiveness had become part of her own morning routine. Had she been influenced by his repetitious behavior?

At the next stop she popped up and strode to a seat farther back and on the opposite side of the bus. Kids eyed her suspiciously and she smirked at her bold move. 

Two stops later, the bus grew quiet as a boy climbed on. Sandy recognized him as one of the rare upper classmen that still rides the bus, but she didn’t know more about him beyond the fact that she was sitting in his normal seat. She swallowed loudly. He loomed in the aisle and gawked at her.

“You’re in my seat.”

“Well, technically I’m not. We don’t have assigned seats. But you can sit next to me.” Sandy smiled sweetly, but her insides churned nervously. What if he caused a scene and made her move?

The boy stared at her with his mouth agape. Sandy pulled her backpack off the seat and crammed it onto the floor at her feet. “There you go.”

The boy sat, but his left side hung over the edge so far he may as well sit in the aisle. 

Sandy smiled to herself and stared out the window at the less familiar scenery.

At school she chose to go straight to her first class instead of stopping at her locker. If it weren’t for the stuffed reptiles lining the shelves behind Mrs. Anderson’s desk, Sandy might have thought she’d walked into the wrong classroom. A plain looking blonde wore a pretty yellow and white checked sweater. She tapped the erasure end of her pencil ceaselessly on a pile of textbooks on her desk. Sandy wondered if she was new to the school.

“Hi,” she greeted, a smile forming naturally at the girl’s bug-eyed reaction. She dumped her backpack under her assigned desk and slid onto the chair.

The girl looked around before answering. “Um…hi.”

As the classroom filled, sweater girl glanced surreptitiously at Sandy. When the bell rang and the teacher took roll, Sandy paid close attention. Her brow furrowed when sweater girl chirped, “Here,” in response to “Ashley Bruin.”

Well, that’s embarrassing. I’ve been going to school with her forever. She must have gotten contacts and her hair is longer than I remember. She’s a major brainiac, too. No wonder she looked at me funny.

When the bell rang Sandy gave Ashley one last shy smile and hurried out of the room, still embarrassed over not recognizing her. After changing for P.E., she stuffed her backpack and clothes into the tiny gym locker and went into the gymnasium. The volleyball nets were set up.

“Cool! Volleyball.” She plopped down next to Miranda. “I’m so glad we’re finished with physical testing. I’m tired of hearing how inflexible I am.”

“Oh my gall, Sandy. I didn’t think you were here today.” Miranda’s forehead wrinkled with concern. “Where were you this morning?”

“I decided to go straight to class.”

“Why? Were you late?” Miranda peered closely at Sandy and pressed hand on her forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”

Sandy chuckled. “I’m fine.” This is fun.

Source: Kai Strand

After P.E. she was forced to stop at her locker to exchange her books. Kyle, the hottest guy in the senior class was squatted down, digging through the pile of books and papers in his locker, directly under hers.

Sandy stood on tiptoe and reached over his muscled mass to dial her locker combo.

He smiled up at her. “Just getting here this morning?”

Being a somewhat shy sophomore, Sandy felt her cheeks flush. “N-no, I-I just haven’t s-stopped here yet.” Great, now he thinks I stutter!

“Good thing we don’t run into each other often.” He slammed his locker shut and stood. His towering height made Sandy feel puny. “You can barely reach your locker with me down there.”

Determined not to sound like a simpleton, Sandy said, “Oh, we could just switch lockers if our schedules had us here at the same time.”

He nodded. “Good thinking.”

Someone called Kyle’s name from across the sea of kids.

“See ya around.” He stepped into the tide and the current parted for him as if he were Moses.

Okay, I’m completely convinced changing my predictable schedule was the best idea I’ve ever had.

Sandy floated into her next class on a cloud of happiness.

At lunch that afternoon, Sandy decided to stick with the normal routine. If she made too big a change it might disrupt the entire lunchroom hierarchy. But lunch took an unexpected turn after all. It was as if she’d thrown a pebble into her daily pond and the ripple effects were starting to rock her boat.

She stuffed in with her fourteen friends around a table designed to seat ten. Three different conversations buzzed at the same time. Suddenly all the talking died away and everybody stared over Sandy’s shoulder. She turned to find Ashley Bruin behind her, red as a beet, examining her retro saddle shoes.

“Hi, Ashley.” Sandy felt as uncomfortable as Ashley looked.

“Um, Sandy, I thought maybe you and your friends might vote for me for sophomore representative on the student council.”

The kids stared blankly at Ashley. As the awkwardness grew, Sandy knew someone had to say something. Trying to sound enthusiastic, she said, “Tell us why we should vote for you.”

Ashley outlined her goals for student council all the way through to their senior year when she hoped to organize a student work program in the city’s government offices as well as internships in Washington DC the year after they graduated.

“Wow, Ashley. You’re so focused! I really admire that,” Sandy said.

“You do?” Ashley and a few of the other kids asked at the same time.

“Yeah! You obviously know what you want and have figured out what you’ll need in order to accomplish your goal. I think our class would benefit from strong leadership like that. You’ve got my vote.”

The group nodded and murmured their agreement. Benny said, “Hey Ashley, I’m interested in politics. Do you have any suggestions of what I could do now to get involved?” Ashley walked around the table and the kids budged over to make room for her.

Sandy was smiling over the unexpected alliance when Kyle passed the table and flashed his winning smile. “Hey, locker buddy!”

“Hi, Kyle.” She was careful not to stutter, but unable to stop her traitorous cheeks from coloring again. Miranda gave her a pointed look, so Sandy whispered. “He doesn’t even know my name.”

Just then Kyle turned and walked back. “Hey, Sandy, are you going to the Masq dance?”

“Uh-huh.” Shock reduced her vocabulary to grunts. Is this a cruel prank, am I being set up to be the butt of a senior joke?

“Are you wearing a costume?” Kyle asked.

“Uh-uh.” Terrific, now he thinks I’m a caveman.

“Great, I’ll see you there. Save me a dance, okay?” He lit the room with a grin and turned back to his friends.

Sandy stared after him while her friends gawked at her. All she could think was that she must have lobbed a boulder into her pond to create ripples this big.

She coasted on autopilot for the next two classes, unable to concentrate on anything besides images of Kyle standing over her at the locker or talking to her at lunch. She joined the human race again when she walked into her history class. History was her favorite class because not only was it the last class of the day, but they also had the coolest teacher.

Mr. Burris was a free-flowing, hippie type of guy. He never seemed to have a prepared class lesson, yet they always learned something interesting. Sandy became so immersed in the action of his lessons that she was often startled when the bell rang her back into the modern world. Mr. Burris also allowed them to sit wherever they wanted, so Sandy decided to end the day disrupting one last routine.

Vance groaned when he walked into the classroom. “Not the front row, Sandy. We hate the front row, remember?”

“Not today we don’t. You can sit in back if you want.”

He sighed heavily and plopped his books on the desk next to her.

A very shy girl, Tina, sat on Sandy’s other side.

Mr. Burris raised an eyebrow at Sandy and Vance when he sauntered through the door as the bell rang. He walked over to Tina and held out his hand. “Miss Tumbler, please join me at the front of the room.”

Sandy felt fear emanate from Tina as Mr. Burris escorted her to a chair at the front of the class. He hung a skull and crossbones symbol around her neck. Then he wrapped swastika armbands around Sandy and Vance’s arms.

“Thanks a lot, Sandy,” Vance hissed.

“Today’s lesson is the Holocaust.” Mr. Burris instructed everyone to shun Tina and treat her as an inferior. They slowly identified the “Jews” among them and either Vance or Sandy hung a black sash over their shoulder to represent their execution. Near the end of the lesson it looked as if an angry artist had slashed black paint across a disappointing canvas. Finally after ostracizing Tina throughout the entire class period, Mr. Burris instructed Sandy to hang two sashes on her.

“Why two?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Miss Tumbler represents the mothers with children who were executed after having spent years in hard labor camps.”

Sandy trudged toward Tina, regretting her choice to disrupt her seating pattern. Tina’s eyes brimmed with fear. Sandy hesitated. “This sucks, Mr. Burris.”

“Fight, Tina!” Melanie called from the back of the room. “Don’t just let her kill you.”

The class was quiet except for a couple of muffled sniffles. Sandy raised the sashes over Tina’s head and then whirled toward Mr. Burris.

“Why did they do this? Why did they follow these horrible orders?” She threw the sashes on the floor. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Mr. Burris smiled. The bell rang. The students breathed a collective sigh of relief. Tina stood and ripped the skull and crossbones from around her neck. Sandy spontaneously threw her arms around her. “Fight for yourself, Tina. Only you can truly stand up for yourself.”

Sandy rushed from the room swiping at a few surprising tears. At her locker she grabbed her homework and hurried outside, eager to shake off the emotional lesson. The bus was already crowded. Sandy dropped into the first empty seat.

“Hey, Sandy!”

She turned to see who belonged to the unfamiliar voice. The boy she’d coerced into sitting next to her that morning was perched on the edge of his usual seat.

“Aren’t you gonna sit with me?”

“Uhhh, sure I guess,” she said.

The boy stepped into the aisle so Sandy could slide next to the window, then he sat down. This time he didn’t hang out into the aisle as far.

“How did you know my name?” Sandy asked.

“I saw you talking to my sister at lunch today, so I asked her.”

“Who’s your sister?”

“Ashley. My name’s Andy.” Ruddy apple cheeks highlighted his blue eyes. His long, shaggy brown hair was in no particular style. Nothing about him was in or out of style, he was just him.

“Why doesn’t Ashley take the bus too?”

“She works in the library before school and has chess club after school. She told me what you did for her today. I wanted to say, thanks.”

“You mean voting for her? She totally earned that.”

“No. Talking to her. Kids outside her group of friends, they just don’t talk to her. She ran up to me after first period to tell me. I should’ve guessed then that it was the same girl who disrupted my own morning.”

Sandy grinned.

“It was my idea for her to ask for your vote. When I saw her sitting at your table during lunch, I almost fell over. You made her day.”

“It was nothing, really.”

After Andy’s stop, Sandy sat alone, staring out the window. What a great day she’d had. Maybe she should never be predictable again.

***

Three months later the ripple effects of that day were more evident. Ashley won the spot of sophomore representative on the student council. She and Benny were dating. Being a ‘Holocaust survivor’ gave Tina the confidence to make new friends. Sandy had the privilege of being her first. Vance was suddenly an outspoken advocate for student rights.

Sandy danced with Kyle more than once at the dance though they didn’t start dating. Her parents would never let her date a senior. But she was spending a lot of time with Andy. He’s only a junior and doesn’t drive, so he passed the parent test. Sandy doesn’t head any committees; that isn’t her thing. But she is involved in a few. She actively recruits members and lobbies for support on issues.

And she consciously disrupts her routine on a regular basis.

***

Kai Strand writes fiction for kids and teens. Her debut novel, The Weaver, was an EPIC eBook Awards finalist. Her young adult title, King of Bad, soared to the publisher's #1 spot in its second month and stayed on the Top 5 Bestsellers list for eight months. She is a (very lucky) wife and the mother of four amazing kids. The most common sound in her household is laughter. The second most common is, "Do your dishes!" She and her family hike, geocache, and canoe in beautiful Central Oregon, where they call home. Learn more about Kai and her books by visiting her website: www.kaistrand.com.

She loves to hear from readers, so feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments, send her an email, or visit her facebook page, KaiStrand, Author.

September Theme: Get Schooled

It's that time of year again, at least in most parts, where students are back to the daily grind of classes and homework. For those of us who teach, this means back to classrooms, paperwork, and grading :) While the date for when students start the new year has crept more and more into August, September 1st used to traditionally mark the start of the new term (as well as the day the Hogwarts Express left 9&3/4's). So, for this month, the awesome authors on LQR will be sharing stories about getting schooled.

As I watch the new crop of students this year, I can't help but think back to those days when my life revolved around school (okay, it's still does, but not as a student anymore). It's an interesting time to spend your day in a classroom with your peers, learning (or attempting to), as well as all the social aspects that go along with it and often teach more lessons than a teacher ever could hope to (hello first romances, friendships, and drama galore!). So, stay tuned this month, there's sure to be some amazing reading!