“You want to kiss Devon, too?”
“Look, have you thought about this?” I said. “Maybe what you think you want isn’t really what you want. Maybe what you want is just someone else telling you that that’s what you want. And what you really want is buried so deep that it’s hard to figure it out. You can barely remember what you want, because other people’s needs and wants are so squashed on top of it.”
“They are?”
I wiped sweat from my forehead. “You spend all your life reacting to what this other person wants of you,” I said. The words bubbled up from the deep, a carbonated explosion. “Fulfilling their needs and helping them, or stopping them, but either way it’s all about them. When is it going to be about you? You’ve got to ask the questions in life. New questions. ‘Where are my hopes and dreams?’ Do you know what I mean, Reese?” The words tore through and out of me until I felt empty, exhausted with the effort.
Or maybe that was the jogging.
“That cloud looks like Devon,” said Reese.
I stopped dead in the path and grabbed her shoulder. “Is that him down there?”
Reese squealed and ran down the hill in the direction I’d pointed. There was a boy at the bottom of the hill with a younger girl, one I didn’t know. I hurried behind Reese as she plowed down the hill and smacked full stop into Devon, wrapping her arms around him. I skidded on the wet grass and almost fell into both of them, but I stumbled back against the side of the hill instead, muddying my butt and hands.
The other girl reeled away. Her eyes were crossed.
“He kissed me,” she said.
“He kissed you?” said Reese.
“He kissed me,” said the other girl.
This could get tedious. “Reese, you need to finish jogging,” I said. I tried to brush off my gym shorts but the mud and grass smeared the shiny polyester. “And you, what class should you be in right now?”
“Computer Programming Three,” the girl said.
“So you like software?” I said. “You want to be a hacker? You’re clever with code? It’s your whole life, right? All the hopes and dreams you have are centered around computers?”
“I like him,” she said. “He kissed me.”
“Yes, we know. Both of you, scoot.” I pried Reese from Devon and shoved both girls up the hill. Luckily, they didn’t seemed inclined to fight. I just heard them informing each other that they’d been kissed as they wobbled up the hill.
I turned back to Devon, but he was gone. Vanished, and I think literally. All that was left was an echo of a voice saying, “Two down.”
Hells.
I trudged up the steep slope to the end of gym class and the showers. What was I supposed to do, quarantine all the girls in school until I could get Devon into a pentagram? I pulled my list out of my backpack and made some notes.
? Solve Ye Olde Demon-Loosening Spell (MOST IMPORTANT)*****
? Get demon-loosening ingredients and self-defense ingredients
? Retake algebra test
? Figure out how the demon is planning to steal “the hopes and dreams of five”
? Figure out why Devon is hanging out with Reese and her blue bra
? Trap Devon in a pentagram
Well, there was one thing I could do now. When the bell rang, I crammed my muddy gym clothes in my bag, went straight to Rourke’s classroom, and laid it out for him.
“Mr. Rourke,” I said. “About the test I bombed…?”
“Work your session with my tutor this afternoon and I’ll let you retake it tomorrow. This once. And don’t think you’re getting away with anything. I know you were an A student in math last year, so I assume there’s hope for you.” Rourke chugged the last of a two-liter and tossed the bottle in the trash can.
“Right.” I twisted my fingers and wondered if it would’ve done any good to buy Rourke a bottle of root beer. “So Kelvin’s a really good tutor. After he explained it yesterday I really got it. I went home and worked.” A few problems plus a self-defense spell was work. “I may be a bit slow, but … I’d like to take that test now.” The thought made me nervous, but I hoped my show of confidence would convince Rourke to let me get this situation over with.
“Right now,” said Rourke. “Really.” He grabbed another two-liter and thoughtfully twisted the cap back and forth, loosening it in tiny crack-cracks. “This would be your only chance.”
“Once you understand that algebra’s logical, then it’s just working through the steps,” I said. “Even with word problems.”
“A plodding approach, but true enough,” conceded Visible Undershirt. “All right then. Your gumption hurts no one but yourself.”
Rourke handed me a new test from a locked drawer and I sat down at my desk. There was a moment of panic—why did I think this would be a good idea?—but then I stopped. Swallowed.
Compared to a self-defense spell written by a paranoid witch who added in seven extra ingredients and used jokes about body parts to solve steps, algebra was nothing.
Step.
By.
Step.