Wicked Weird

By Lauren Courcelle

Persephone Smith is back... only this time, she's in middle school. Although she believes that the biggest change in the year chronicled in "Wicked Weird" will be that she gets to choose what she wears to school, she is severely mistaken. In middle school, the stakes are bigger, the consequences are more extreme, and her classmates are usually not her familiar Saint Bart's friends. What she doesn't realize is that she fits into middle school perfectly, as feeling weird is actually wicked normal during those years.
Due to the events in the first book of the series, "Wicked Normal," Persephone often hesitates to use her natural powers in this second installment. Her trust in others and confidence in herself have been seriously shaken, but over time, she regains her inner strength and begins relying on others outside of her immediate family again. Her parents are still a constant positive force in her life, although she has a streak of independence that tests them more than she ever has before. She trusts in their unconditional love, even in her brattiest moments, and this year, she opens up enough to understand the added value in loving friends unconditionally, too.
When Persephone isn't in school, she searches for unicorns, hangs out with her friends, sets out to prove that Santa Claus is real, and is involved in the school play. Her vocabulary changes a bit, with clear influence from her new-found friends. Her boy dramas, moments of poor decision-making, frequent sobfests, and overuse of the response, "Whatever," remind readers that she is very much a ten-year-old. Familiar peers Gabby, Coral, Charles, Seth, Jade, Freddie, Skye, Misty, and Katie return in this book with the new faces of: Harley, the textbook bad boy; Katrina, Persephone's dissection-obsessed lab partner; Jesse, the beautiful theatre guy; Lily, the fight-prone tough girl; and many more classmates, to form quite a selection of contemporaries for Persephone in middle school.
"Wicked Weird" is the second book in a middle-grade and up, coming-of-age, realistic, paranormal, fantasy series by author Lauren Courcelle. Like "Wicked Normal," it also is intended for ages 9 and up, as the series follows Persephone Smith to middle school, high school, and college. The real-life Vermont setting, lovable characters, personal relationship dramas, and realistic sixth grade predicaments blend with the fantasy elements of unicorns, extraordinary powers, and magic to create an escape from reality for any readers who have, at one time or another, felt "wicked weird."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lauren Courcelle
• Release date: Feb 27, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370146666

Lauren Courcelle

Lauren Courcelle has lived in Vermont all of her life, but if she told you how many years she's been a Vermonter, you'd know how old she is, so don't expect her to admit that! At a young age, she decided she wanted to be a teacher when she grew up. In hindsight, much of her decision was initially based on her tremendous excitement at the idea of being able to write on the chalkboard whenever she wanted! As she matured, or maybe due to the inclusion of many more white boards in classrooms, Lauren realized that the best part about teaching was being able to have a daily impact on students, particularly when inspiring them to become lifelong lovers of literature.For a few years, Lauren left the field of education, to try her hand at something else. When folks would ask her what she missed most about teaching, her response was always, "The kids, and in particular, reading great children's books with the kids!" Having always wanted to write an amazing picture book, in May, 2011, she decided to pursue her dream. Nearly 400 pages later, a chapter book, surprisingly, emerged from her efforts.That book was "Wicked Normal," and Lauren immediately knew that it would become a series, as her characters still had so much more story to tell. Lauren released "Wicked Weird," the second book in the series, less than six months later. The third book, "Wicked Awesome," was published within a year of the first. The fourth book of the series, "Wicked Dramatic," had protagonist, Persephone Smith, embarking on her final year of middle school.Lauren paused Persephone's series to release "unLEASHed," the first book of her first Young Adult series. Although it is a futuristic novel, she hopes it is not a psychic vision of what life will be like some twenty years (or so) from now.On the heels of the release of "unLEASHed," Lauren returned to Persephone's series with Young Adult novels "Wicked Confessions," "Wicked Together," "Wicked Alpha," & "Wicked Omega." She's currently working on the 2nd book in Cordeleya's series (working title: "unGUARDed") and fighting off the urge to spend time right now on the next Persephone book as Imemy's tale needs to be told first! ("Imemy" is a futuristic, YA love story between the narrating protagonist and another teenager told without revealing either's gender, for love is love. Yeah. Be on the lookout for that one!)Lauren continues to reside in Vermont, and in her leisure time, she enjoys knitting scarves, making beaded jewelry, and painting.

Book preview

Wicked Weird

By Lauren Courcelle

Published by Lauren Courcelle at Smashwords

Copyright 2013-2017 Lauren Courcelle All Rights Reserved

To everyone who still believes in unicorns, Santa Claus, magic, miracles, and love…

chapter one

The First Day of Middle School

Behind the massive wooden doors and ivy encrusted brick walls awaited a three-year adventure that commenced today. The only things separating me from those doors, and the completely unknown world inside, were a set of stairs and about a hundred of apparently the city’s wildest hooligans. Everyone in sight was loud, huge, and obnoxious. I wrinkled my nose as I didn’t see one familiar face or anyone with whom I could relate.

I turned back towards the car, mustered a smile, and waved farewell to Dad, who had driven me to school, as Mom was already at work, putting the finishing touches on her new classroom. Although she had planned to retire from teaching when I graduated from Saint Bart’s in June, her anticipated departure plus the kidnapping debacle with Mr. Harper last spring had left the school looking to fill two faculty vacancies. Consequently, Mr. Jacobs and the Board of Trustees had begged Mom to take over the fifth grade in a one year capacity. Being a complete softy, she agreed. When I retire, I’ll be retired – no calling me back in, no way! As Dad pulled the car away and I turned back to the intimidating building, I wished I could retire from school right now! I knew my powers couldn’t will that one, so I took a deep breath and a step towards the doors.

My new teal clogs clicked on the sidewalk. Their sound made me smile internally as I thought of one of the biggest differences this school year… I get to wear whatever I want! So for the first day of school I selected a teal T-shirt, magenta denim skirt, teal tights, and teal clogs. What can I say? I love teal! I wore my hair down with a teal and magenta rhinestone barrette to hold back my bangs, and Mom let me wear my sparkly pink lipstick because I am in middle school now.

That’s right. This isn’t Saint Bart’s. It is Diversity Middle School. All of the sixth, seventh, and eight graders in my city converge here. Apparently there’s a height requirement of tall to be on the front steps, as everyone in view was gigantuous compared to me.

I reached the second stair before being noticed. Out of the way, twerp! a skateboarder with flaming red hair protruding from his knit hat announced as he nearly wiped me out.

I steadied myself and pressed onward up the stairs. On every side of me, everywhere I turned, clusters of kids were gathered, talking, laughing, swearing, texting, playing music, or doing tricks. Some were horsing around. Others were skateboarding, even on the steps! When I neared the doors I saw several couples were kissing!

Yeah, this wasn’t Saint Bart’s. This was Diversity Middle School. As I reached the entrance, I pulled the heavy door open. Here goes nothing, I muttered. Just let me survive the day, I whispered as my clogs clicked through the doorway.

I had been sorely mistaken when I believed that all of the city’s hooligans were congregating out in front of the school… they were everywhere in here, too. Boys were chasing each other, inside. One guy was actually trying to run up a wall! A couple skateboarders zoomed down the hall! Three years of this? No way! Diversity Middle School wasn’t a place for young people to get an education; it was a human circus of out-of-control preteens! I instantly understood why Mom and Dad were so reluctant to say anything about middle school, and I am certain that at that moment, my face portrayed the same horror that their faces had conveyed whenever the topic had arisen.

I tried not to get smooshed as I made my way through the hall towards the classrooms. Where was anyone I knew? I swore there were hundreds of kids and yet I saw no familiar faces! The lobby morphed into a hallway with lockers along the walls, signaling the transition to the academic wings of the building. I remembered my left hand was still clutching my schedule, though I had folded it up to cup it stealthily within my palm, so the older kids wouldn’t torment me. I was looking for Room 201, and presuming it would be on the second floor, I plodded on through the chaos to the stairwell.

Arriving on the second floor, I was taken aback that there were drastically fewer bodies in the upstairs hall that extended to the left or the right of the stairs. I froze and my eyes went large as I didn’t know which direction would get me to Room 201. Oh, how I wished there would be signs like at the hotels, telling how to find one’s room!

Given my 50/50 odds of getting the correct direction on the first try, I turned right, as with more gangly bodies to the left, the right seemed the prudent choice.

Persephone! a shrill, high-pitched voice soon squealed. I turned slightly and saw a hand waving from behind a group of backpack wearing boys. As they progressed down the hall, I saw the hand was attached to Gabby, my assigned buddy from Birch Bog Day Camp last summer.

Gabby? I acknowledged, my voice tinged with the question of realizing that with every sixth grader I know on this planet, Gabby is the one the universe sends my way? Gabby ran at me with arms flailing for a bear hug.

Oh my gaw! I can’t believe you’re here! Now we can be Besties! Gabby rocked me back and forth with excitement before releasing me from her hug. Dee is around here somewhere, too, Gabby announced, looking around frantically. Dee! Dee! she called, waving.

To my surprise, Ms. Diva-In-Training joined us. Ah, Persephone, long time, Ms. Diva-In-Training, or should I say, Dee, greeted.

Hi, Dee, I uttered, forcing a smile as my Glittering Trillium memories spiraled in my head. That horror show seemed a lifetime ago. Maybe I was naive, but I had not anticipated ever seeing any of my fellow campers again. Apparently I was the only one to feel so disenchanted about that summer, as I noticed that both girls wore the necklaces we had made at camp.

Yay, I have my two Besties! Gabby gushed, putting her arms around Dee and me. I saw Dee roll her eyes, echoing my sentiment.

I’m loving your outfit, Persephone, Dee complimented. Teal is a bold choice.

Thanks, Dee, I responded. Those are great earrings, I complimented in return, noticing the dangling fuchsia and gold doodads.

Dee reached up and touched one. Thanks, Mom got them for me while on her business trip to Morocco.

Who’s your T.A.? Gabby interjected.

My what? I asked.

Dee and I are in Mrs. Capini’s T.A. in Room 204 because my last name is Kingsley and Dee’s is Jamieson, Gabby explained.

I’m heading to Room 201, I added, hoping that I answered her question. I hadn’t realized that my Teacher Advisory assignment was based on my last name. Smith. Hmm. Who else did I know with an S last name? I grinned as I remembered that my good friend, Freddie, has a last name that begins with S! The thought of commiserating about this middle school experience with an actual friend motivated me to find my classroom sooner rather than later.

I gotta get to class, I said, pushing by Gabby and Dee. Glad to see you two! Catch ya later!

I hurried down the hall and reached Room 201. Come in, come in, a middle-aged man urged. Who are you?

Persephone Smith, I replied.

Ah, Persephone, yes, yes, you are right where you’re supposed to be! Come in, come in, take a seat, anywhere is fine. There weren’t many students in the classroom yet. The long tables were pushed together to create two even longer tables that ran the length of the room. I scanned the faces of those who had arrived before me and recognized no one. I hoped Freddie would appear soon, so I picked a seat with empty seats all around it so he could sit with me.

As I looked around the nondescript classroom, I couldn’t determine what subject was taught in this space. I noticed Mr. Marshall had been written in yellow, slanted letters on the big, green, antiquated chalkboard at the front of the classroom. I turned my attention to the door so I could wave over anyone I knew to sit with me.

A tall boy with tousled dirty blonde hair strutted into the room. He appeared out of place in that he looked significantly older than the rest of us students. He was wearing a black, rock band T-shirt and faded blue jeans. Sup, Mr. M.? he shouted upon entering. A blonde girl, with too much makeup on, was clinging onto him like he was a celebrity. She wore a white sleeveless blouse, white jeans, big gold hoop earrings, a gold chain belt, and red, shiny, high heeled shoes that matched her shiny, bright red lips.

Mr. Stevens, please escort Ms. Darden to her classroom, Mr. Marshall asked, stepping in front of the swaggering couple.

Whatever, the boy responded, shoving past the teacher. The couple walked over to me. You’re in my seat, he growled at me.

I jumped up and moved to the end of the table, without looking at either of them.

That’s my seat, too, he announced.

I stood up, but I didn’t take another seat. Let me guess, I began, looking directly at him. They’re all your seats, I continued.

Yup, the boy answered with a grin. The girl, chomping on gum, chewing like a cow, threw her head back and laughed as though the boy was the funniest comedian in history.

Harley, leave her alone, Mr. Marshall cautioned.

Whatever, Harley answered. She knows I’m just messin’ wit her. He grinned a toothy smile at me and winked. So, where you sittin’ next?

I threw my nose in the air and strutted back to my original seat, sitting, defiantly.

Perfect, Harley agreed, walking around me and sitting next to me on my right. He sat on the table, using the stool as a footrest. So, Lily, where were we? Lily walked over and answered the question with a kiss.

Their display revolted me, so I turned my attention back to the door. More strangers filtered in, each kid looking as shell-shocked as I felt. Then I saw Freddie! Freddie! I cheered, waving. Freddie hurried to the seat to my left.

Hey, Persephone! Man, I’m glad to see you! This place is so weird! he said. His eyes looked past me and the expression on his face revealed to me that Harley and Lily were clearly still being them. I didn’t know kissing was allowed in school, he stated.

Welcome to Diversity Middle School? I assessed.

Mr. Stevens, Ms. Darden, enough already, Mr. Marshall interrupted.

Later, babe, Harley said to Lily, and she strutted out of the classroom as Skye Stanley scooted in.

Ah, Persephone Smith, Skye surmised, sitting across the table from me. Oh, hi, Freddie. Good luck ruling the middle school, Persephone, she continued, this isn’t Saint Bart’s, as you’ll soon see.

Unexpectedly, Harley leaped across the table, laying so he could reach Skye’s collar which he grabbed, pulling her out of her seat. Leave Persephone alone, he threatened through clenched teeth. Skye’s eyes popped out of her head and she looked amply terrified before the teacher called Harley off of her and he released his grasp, returning to his seat.

You’re right, Skye, it’s not Saint Bart’s, I retorted.

You’re lucky you’re a girl, Harley sneered at her. He turned to me and asked, What’d you call her… Skye? What kind of name is that? He glared at her, menacingly.

Harley, cool down or you’re outta here, Mr. Marshall interrupted.

Well, Skye, you’re lucky you’re a girl or my fist would be in your face, Harley continued.

I fought the urge to smirk. The idea of this big guy socking Skye because of her obnoxious mouth was too entertaining. At the same time, I felt a wave of terror because violence had never been an issue at Saint Bart’s, and I wasn’t sure just what I had walked into here in Teacher Advisory in middle school.

Harley, Mr. Marshall raised his voice.

I’m cool, Mr. M., Harley answered, sitting casually on his stool like a stereotypical cool dude, even suddenly donning a pair of sunglasses.

Mr. Stevens, remove the sunglasses, Mr. Marshall demanded.

Harley obliged, muttering a Whatever, among other inappropriate, yet slightly inaudible, words.

Welcome everyone to my T.A. I am Mr. Marshall. If you’re not supposed to be in Room 201 with Marshall, then come up to the front of the room now and I’ll write you a late slip and help you find where you’re supposed to be. A mousey, feeble-looking girl scurried to Mr. Marshall, handing him her schedule. As Mr. Marshall walked her to the door, pointing where she should go, Harley stood up and strutted towards the front of the room. Mr. Stevens, sit down, you know you’re in here, Mr. Marshall scolded, returning to the room.

Ah, man, Harley mimed disappointment, winking at me as he passed by on his return to his seat.

So, welcome to T.A., Mr. Marshall started again. You will come here each morning for attendance, important announcements, and special projects. I listened to Mr. Marshall’s spiel carefully, hoping he’d have insight as to surviving the halls of middle school, but he didn’t provide any helpful hints. He handed out paperwork to bring home and told us that he would soon be assigning us to the lockers that were just outside his classroom. Then we each gave him $3 for school-issued combination locks. Be sure you don’t give your combination to anyone, Mr. Marshall cautioned.

Then he allowed us time to figure out our locks before going to our lockers. I read the instructions on the lock, but I was confused. Freddie opened his lock on the first try, but I couldn’t crack mine, even though the combination was right there. Skye’s lock popped open, but I must not have been turning mine properly.

Oh, give me that, Harley insisted, grabbing my lock and combination right out of my hands. Ya go like this, Persephone, he said, spinning the numbers to the right. He read the combination, but not out loud, and he turned the dial back and forth ‘til he reached all of the numbers and POP, the lock opened. He took off the combination tag and handed it to me, closing the lock. He then demonstrated to me how to open it again, recalling my combination from memory! Now, you try it, Harley coached, handing me my lock.

My hands trembled as I held the lock. I hadn’t wanted anyone to ever find out my combination, yet the school’s bad boy had snatched it from me and committed it to memory? Now he could get into my locker any time he wanted! He could steal the things I put in there and he could put whatever illegal stuff he didn’t want to get caught with in it! What if they brought in drug-sniffing dogs? Dogs weren’t going to understand that I would never have anything to do with drugs! I was gonna end up in jail because this bad kid knew my combination!

Come on, Persephone, turn it to the right, he urged. Don’t let that Skye girl show you up. I sat, immobilized by my fears of the repercussions of Harley knowing my locker combination. Before I could snap out of it, his left hand steadied the lock and his right hand guided my right hand to spin the lock to the correct numbers.

Mr. Marshall summoned his T.A. out to the hallway for locker assignments and the classroom cleared as Harley guided my lock to the final number. Now give it a pull, he directed. I pulled on the lock and it popped open. Ta-da! he announced. It gets easier with practice.

I should hope so, I mumbled.

This is my third time in sixth grade, Harley revealed. Ya learn a thing or two eventually, whether you like it or not.

I was taken aback that anyone could repeatedly fail a grade. How old are you, Harley? I asked out of curiosity.

I’ll be fourteen on September 17th, he boasted with a grin. Two more years!

Two years until what? I asked, not following his train of thought.

Until I’m sixteen and outta here, he explained. I shrugged. He clarified, I can drop out of school when I’m sixteen. I couldn’t help but give him a wicked confused look. People actually dreamed of being old enough to drop out of school? I was perplexed.

How old are you, Persephone? Harley inquired.

Ten, I answered.

Dang, you’ve got six more years. Better you than me.

In six years I’ll be a senior, Harley, I explained. I’m not gonna drop out.

Good luck with that, Harley responded. Now, let’s go get our lockers.

I looked at the open lock in my hand, and I instantly remembered all my fears of what Harley might do due to his knowing my lock combination. I followed him into the hallway.

There you are! Mr. Marshall exclaimed. Persephone Smith, locker 221 and Harley Stevens, locker 222.

You get the short locker, Persephone, cuz you’re short, Harley explained.

It’s not so much that I’m short, but you’re just a lot older than I am, I replied.

Wanna trade lockers? Harley asked.

Boys and girls, there will be no locker trading, Mr. Marshall reminded.

No, I answered to Harley.

Have you ever broken a rule ever, Persephone? Harley asked.

Why don’t you tell him about when you got suspended last year? Skye added, eavesdropping. I put my lock on my locker, ignoring her.

"Why don’t I show you how I am gonna get suspended next?" Harley said, grabbing Skye’s collar and making a fist at her.

Enough, Mr. Stevens, Mr. Marshall interrupted. Harley released Skye.

I just don’t like that little Skye girl, Harley announced.

I don’t like you either, Skye responded.

Unbelievably and out of nowhere, Lily slinked up and got into Skye’s face. Take it back, she demanded.

What’s it to you? Skye retorted.

And Pow! Lily clobbered Skye with one punch square to the nose. Learn your place, little girl, she sneered as Skye slumped to the floor, holding her nose and screaming.

Harley, Lily, to the office! Mr. Marshall bellowed.

Lily rolled her eyes and headed to the office, and Harley waved at me before departing. But you didn’t do anything, I pointed out.

That’s how it goes, Harley commented. He shrugged, turned, and headed downstairs to the office.

Are you okay, Persephone? Freddie asked, hurrying to my side. What’s up with that big kid?

Harley? I asked. Freddie nodded. I’m thinking I’m on his good side, cuz he hasn’t done anything to me.

Um, he memorized your combination, Freddie reminded.

Yeah, he did, I remembered. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about that, I confessed.

Go to the office and get a new lock? Freddie suggested.

"But Harley is in the office," I reminded.

I meant after school or tomorrow morning, Freddie clarified.

I hadn’t thought that far through my day yet, so his idea caused me to breathe a big sigh of relief. I nodded in agreement as the bell rang to signal the transition to first period. I looked at my watch. 8:15. Must be there’s some weird time distortion in Diversity Middle School, cuz that was surely the longest T.A. ever.

A glance at my schedule revealed my need to head to Room 211 for English. I was grateful to be on the same floor as my T.A. but not too enthused to be roaming the hallway again.

Where you headin’? Freddie asked, catching up.

Room 211, I answered.

Oh, I’m going to Room 117, Freddie explained. Catch ya ‘round.

Later, Freddie, I replied as he hurried off to class.

My feet somehow managed to find their way to Room 211 without being stepped on. The room had neat rows of desks with a large teacher’s desk and chalkboard at the front of the classroom. I found an empty desk in the back of the classroom, near the window, and sat down quickly in an attempt to be unnoticed. I stared out the door, hopeful to recognize anyone, but only strangers entered. Where were the Saint Bart’s kids? A familiar-looking girl came in, scanned the room, and hurried to the seat next to mine.

Persephone! Oh, I’m glad you’re here, she exclaimed with a smile. I racked my brain for why she looked familiar. Then it hit me.

Misty Creek? I didn’t know you’re from my town! I exclaimed, remembering Misty from last year’s Statewide Spelling Bee.

My parents and I moved here over the summer, Misty explained. I don’t know anyone.

I don’t know many people myself, I confessed.

Well, you know me, and your psychic abilities should take care of the rest, Misty encouraged.

I smirked at the memory of my powers, but I knew Misty didn’t have a clue as to what they actually were and that they had no place on the first day of middle school. If only it were that easy, Misty, I mused.

So, Persephone, did you have a nice summer? she inquired.

Don’t get me wrong, my summer could be called a lot of things, but nice? Yeah, not exactly. My crush moved away. Not nice. I went on vacation to Maine. Quite nice. I remembered my dead ex-boyfriend on the six month anniversary of his death. Not quite nice. But I can now see him, hear him, and hug him. Pretty darn nice, even if he is a ghost. And I started middle school. Definitely not nice. Yanno, it had its ups and downs, I replied. How ‘bout yours?

I didn’t want to move here, Misty confessed. I miss my friends. I nodded sympathetically. I longed for my friends, too.

English class was fairly boring. Halfway through class, Skye Stanley walked in, holding an ice pack to her face. She had a late admission slip and a nasty shiner. Skye took the desk in front of mine and turned to sneer at me, Miss Perfect Persephone found herself an attack dog.

Girls, consider this your warning, Mrs. Grenier, the English teacher, said. Rather than argue that I hadn’t done anything necessitating a warning, I just bit my tongue and stared out the window. At the end of class, Mrs. Grenier gave us a pile of textbooks that we’d need periodically throughout the year. I decided to drop them off at my locker on my way to science in Room 200, but juggling the heavy, awkward stack of textbooks while trying to open my combination lock proved too much for me. I felt a wave of anxiety as I contemplated what to do.

Need a hand? Harley asked, stepping up to his locker.

Great! Thanks! I agreed, handing him my books and grabbing my lock with determined hands.

Uh, not what I had in mind, Harley murmured, looking at the pile of books in his hands.

I need to learn to do this myself, I acknowledged, spinning the numbers to the right.

I can be here to open your locker anytime, Harley offered.

And if I need to get in and you’re in the office? I countered, turning the numbers to the left.

Ouch, Harley said, playing hurt. Well, at least I didn’t get suspended in elementary school, he added. He then used inappropriate words to ask me how I managed to get suspended.

I turned the dial to the right to the final number and pulled. Nothing. I pulled again, harder, and not a budge. I slammed the lock into the locker door and added a Dang it! for effect.

Oh, I get it, Harley surmised. You have a temper. He shifted the pile of texts to free up a hand and started spinning the lock one-handed.

Did my red hair not sufficiently tip you off to that? I snapped. Harley didn’t reply. He simply unfastened the lock. He opened my locker door, placing the pile of English texts inside. Then he stared at me, grinning.

Thanks for the help. I gotta get to class, I acknowledged, grabbing the locker door to close it. Harley blocked my attempt.

Not so fast, he shunned. You didn’t answer my question. What did you do that got you suspended?

Harley! I need to get to class! I demanded. My stomach lurched and my heart rate quickened as I panicked that this hooligan was going to make me late for science.

Tell me and I’ll make sure you get to class on time, he pledged.

Fine, I growled. A substitute teacher humiliated me and I enacted revenge on her, okay? Harley calmly closed and locked my locker, seemingly stifling laughter. What? I demanded.

Nothing, he responded.

What’s funny, Harley?

Knowing you’re a vengeful person? Remind me not to tick you off.

Too late for that, I said with a scowl.

What? You don’t love me? Harley asked with a puppy dog smirk. I squinted my eyes at him. Before I could say anything, I felt my feet were swept out from under me. I was momentarily disoriented but soon realized Harley had thrown me over his shoulder!

Put me down! I insisted, kicking my feet. I stopped kicking after one of my clogs fell off. My shoe! I fussed. Harley stooped to pick it up.

Where’s class, Persephone? Harley asked with a smile. I promised to get you to class on time, where we heading?

Put me down! I continued throwing a fit. The ruckus brought Mr. Marshall into the hallway.

Harley, unhand her! Mr. Marshall demanded.

Persephone, where’s your class? Harley loudly asked, spinning in a circle.

Room 200! I confessed, hoping to be done before I hurled. Like a shot, he bee-lined into Room 200, setting me down on one of the tables. Then he slipped my clog back onto my foot and bowed.

I kept my promise, he added as the bell rang to start class. Later, he saluted, departing.

I slid off the table and sat in the chair. The tables were two-seaters, and I noticed Skye had saddled up alongside Misty. Most of the kids were the same ones who had been in my English class. Hi, I’m Katrina, the chipper, long haired blonde girl who shared my table introduced herself, extending her hand.

I’m Persephone Smith, I said, shaking her hand.

I know, Katrina smirked. I hope we do dissections, don’t you?

Not particularly, I admitted.

So if we do, can I do the cutting? Katrina inquired with excitement.

Works for me, I agreed.

Good morning, class, the energetic science teacher greeted. My name is Gus Fun. And yes, that means that during role call at school, I would have to answer when the teacher said, ‘Fun, Gus.’ I futilely attempted to suppress a snicker. Oh good, someone understands my science humor! he exclaimed. Yup, with a name like Fun, Gus, I can’t imagine him doing anything other than teaching science. He was a very animated man, bouncing all over the room as he described the sorts of things we’d do this year. Katrina was disappointed to learn that no dissections were scheduled.

When the bell rang to end science, I wasn’t long on my feet before Harley greeted me at the door to the hall. Where to now? he inquired, lifting me over his shoulder.

Harley, put me down! I requested.

Where we goin’? he reiterated.

Music, I muttered.

Ooh, we’re taking the stairs! Harley announced, whisking me