MEG
SOMETIMES KAT AND I DO OUR HOMEWORK TOGETHER AFTER SCHOOL, BUT we spent all our after-school time this week finishing up the questionnaire for our science project and didn’t get to any of the other stuff. Which, I know, I know, is my own fault, since I refused to work on it during our lunch periods—a rule that I stand especially firm on now that Grayson and his buddies have been eating lunch with us. Alas, it does mean that now I’m stuck doing my math homework all on my own.
I wouldn’t even bother, except that my snitch of a math teacher, Mrs. Brown, called Mom and told her that I’m failing math and that it’s because I’m not doing my homework, and Mom told me I’m grounded if I don’t start doing it.
So I settle in at the kitchen table, all by my lonesome, and give my textbook a death glare. When it doesn’t disappear in a puff of smoke, I groan and drag the bloody thing across the table toward me so it’s right in front of my face. Then I flip to the page I have listed as homework in my planner. Graphs. Tiny little graphs. An entire page of them. I groan again.
“Calculate the slope,” the page demands.
A blur of black—a bird—swoops by the kitchen window. Probably forgot to set his alarm to head south for the winter. Kenzie’s pitchy squawking floats up the stairs. She’s singing along with the obnoxious melody of her show. If you can call it singing along when she clearly doesn’t know the words. Or the melody.
“I’m not stupid,” I mumble to myself. “I can do this.” Except what does “slope” even mean? I flip through my notes and find the definition a couple of pages back, wedged between a meaningless graph and a doodle of a cat. I can draw pretty adorable cats.
“Slope = rise over run,” my notes report. Great. Now what the hell is “rise” and what the hell is “run”?
I scan my notes again. Nothing. I’d call Kat, but she texted me that she was going to play a game of chess with Granddad, and I don’t want to interrupt his favorite game.
Kenzie is dancing now. I can tell from the way her voice has gone breathless. And how she keeps yelling, “Head bang!” in between lyrics about three little kittens.
I can’t even find the page now where it said that thing about slope.
Screw this.
I shove back my chair, skip down the stairs, and join Kenzie in a dance-off of epic proportions.
LEGENDS OF THE STONE
KittyKat has logged on.
MEGAdawn has logged on.
MEGAdawn: we’re doing a rift run. ne1 else in?
Moriah: sure
<>Pterion: sry about to log off
HereAfter: I’m in []Sythlight: Me too. Which one?
KittyKat: there’s a new one near my castle. on shore.
HereAfter: The water castle, right? I saw that rift. It’s big. Maybe we should VoiceChat.
MEGAdawn has entered the waterlands.
MEGAdawn: sure
[]Sythlight: Kitty doesn’t have a mic.
KittyKat: no mic, remember <>Pterion has logged off.
MEGAdawn: want me to bring you one?
[]Sythlight: We can make do with typing.
HereAfter: Moriah and I are already voicechatting, but typing is fine.
Private Message from KittyKat to MEGAdawn: KittyKat: I actually do have a mic
MEGAdawn: oh MEGAdawn: wait so are you mad at syth or something?
[]Sythlight has entered the waterlands.
[]Sythlight: Ready whenever.
Moriah: we’re on our way
KittyKat: just need to organize my stuff
Private Message from KittyKat to MEGAdawn: KittyKat: no not mad
MEGAdawn: ur scared?
KittyKat: not scared. I just don’t talk to strangers.
MEGAdawn: right
MEGAdawn: you don’t have to marry him you know. it’s just VoiceChat KittyKat: I thought you said I should marry him MEGAdawn: ha I knew you liked him
KittyKat: THAT’S NOT WHAT I WAS SAYING
[]Sythlight was slain by a wingling.
[]Sythlight: So there are winglings in the rift. Bring a good helmet.
KittyKat: ha ha
MEGAdawn: rofl you went in without us?
HereAfter: lol
Private Message from MEGAdawn to KittyKat: MEGAdawn: it’s just syth
KittyKat: and hereafter and moriah. it’s not just about syth KittyKat: maybe next time
MEGAdawn: fine
[]Sythlight: Just wanted a peek.
[]Sythlight: I’m almost back.
[]Sythlight has entered the waterlands.
KittyKat: I got your stuff
[]Sythlight: Thanks
Moriah has entered the waterlands.
HereAfter has entered the waterlands.
MEGAdawn: HI!
Moriah: hi
HereAfter: hey MEGAdawn: all right let’s do this
[]Sythlight: To the rift!
MEGAdawn: to the rift!!!
CHAPTER 10
MEG
“BLUE STRIPED SHIRT OR THAT FUNKY BLACK ONE?” I ASK THE PHONE ON my bed.
“Black.” Kat’s voice is distorted, like either her mouth or my phone is full of bees. You’d think in this modern age they’d have figured out how to make speakerphone work better. I mean, shouldn’t we have holograms or something by now? “Did you get my email? With the final draft of the questionnaire?” she asks.
“Probably.” I used to be able to get Kat to stop talking about the project for days at a time. Now, with our next checkin coming up on Monday, I’m lucky if she lasts ten minutes. “What about the purple one? With Mickey Mouse?” I lay it out on the bed beside the black shirt. This afternoon is my fourth real date with Grayson. Fifth if you count the time I skipped math class and we went down to the corner store to get slushies. Which really should count. They were good slushies.
“Did you agonize about your clothes this much every morning this week?”
“No. Yes. Wait, what was the question?” I’m holding the blue striped shirt against my chest in front of the mirror and maybe not entirely listening.
Kat laughs through her mouthful of bees. “You’ve seen Grayson like every day this week. And last week. And . . . the week before, right? It’s been three weeks? Isn’t this date just like every other?”
“If you think a date’s no big deal, why don’t you go on one?” The blue striped shirt makes me look like a sailor. Can’t decide if that’s a good thing or bad.
“Shut up,” Kat says. “Just the thought makes me want to puke. About our project, though, seriously. I know we can talk about it tonight after your date when I come over, but I need to know if there’s anything I should be working on before then. The questionnaire’s ready to go. And we have all the control factors determined, and the steps mapped out. Do you think that’s enough to show Mr. Carter on Monday? I’m worried we should have started testing. Do you think we should’ve already started testing . . . people?”
She says “people” like it’s a bad word—not the way Grayson or I would say a bad word, but the way she would say a bad word. In other words, like a gun’s being held to her head.
“No idea. Okay, I’m thinking the black one.” I drop the blue shirt back on the bed and grab the black.
“The black shirt? That’s what I said.”
“Oh, good. So consensus.” I yank the shirt over my head. The V-neck isn’t deep, but it does give me the tiniest bit of cleavage. Definitely the right shirt. I touch up my makeup while Kat lets out the odd squawk. She must be playing LotS.