Taylor called after her.
“What’s with her?” Olivia asked.
Taylor crunched a carrot. “Supersensitive. She’s always been that way. I didn’t mean to be rude and annoying, like she said,” she said. “It just sort of squeaked out. But really, is there room here? I don’t think so.”
Suddenly there was a high-pitched squeal, followed by a loud crash. Everyone in the cafeteria stopped talking, eating, or moving.
It was Alexis. She’d been walking over to the cheerleader table when she slipped. Her tray had smashed up against her body, then dropped to the ground and landed on her shoes, covering them with shredded lettuce and chopped tomatoes. Salsa clung to her shirt. A pool of soda spread out under her feet.
Alexis was standing with her hands in the air, staring at her spilled tray and her jeans, which were now splattered with soda and salsa.
No one went to help her. Not even Cassidy, or anyone else from their table. Instead, they started applauding. Standing and applauding, with us.
“Is it wrong that I enjoyed that? Because I really enjoyed that,” Olivia said.
Alexis scurried out of the cafeteria, running for cover.
“She totally needs one of these,” said Olivia, patting the pile of T-shirts for sale.
“Yeah, we should find her and give her one,” I said.
“Yeah. But let’s not,” said Taylor. “She can buy one if she wants.”
“Wait a second,” Olivia said. “Is it because of us she just did that?”
“Obviously that had nothing to do with us.” Taylor tossed a straw wrapper onto the floor. “They’re over there.
We’re
over here. It’s scientifically impossible for us to have made that happen.”
“Okay, but what about the broken plate last Friday night?” Olivia asked. “I dropped it, and she just dropped a tray.”
“Oh, that? That’s just a coincidence. It’s not like we have any actual powers. Come on, Olivia. You’re being ridiculous,” said Taylor.
“Right. I mean, probably. I know. It’s just … weird, don’t you think?” she asked.
“The tray probably just came out of the dishwasher and was wet. Her hands slipped. End of story,” Taylor said.
Right. End of story.
But it still seemed like quite a coincidence.
Chapter 14
“Are you hurt?”
I found Cassidy in the gym on Tuesday after school. She was sitting on the bleachers while the rest of the cheer squad was taking turns on the trampoline, doing flips, laughing, and having fun.
I’d been avoiding her. I didn’t feel like apologizing. She’d been mean to me so many times and had never apologized afterward—instead, she usually rubbed it in so that I felt even worse. So why did I have to be the one who apologized?
“Why are you watching instead of jumping?” I asked. “Because you’re injured?”
She shook her head. “No.” She stretched out her legs on the step below her, rubbing her muscles as if to keep them warm.
“Oh. Well, that’s good,” I said. “I guess. Are you just taking a break, then?”
“Not by choice,” she said. “I’d rather be injured than be in the position I’m in now.” She directed a glare across the gym at her teammates and coach. I didn’t really want to get into it with her.
“So, I don’t know if your mom gave you the message or whatever. But I’m sorry about Halloween. Everything that happened,” I said.
“What happened? Oh, wearing the same costume?” She laughed. “Well, that’s not your fault.”
“Okay, but … we kind of egged your house. And got egg on your, uh, face. And hat.”
“That was you?” she asked, looking stunned for a second.
I was just as surprised—why hadn’t her mom told her? I shrugged. “Yeah. It was me. Sorry.”
“No worries,” she said, as if it were no big deal to get egg on her nose. “I thought I heard you guys. Anyway, it was Halloween. Things like that are supposed to happen.”
“Right. I guess. Sorry,” I repeated. I couldn’t understand why she wasn’t more furious with
“What’s with her?” Olivia asked.
Taylor crunched a carrot. “Supersensitive. She’s always been that way. I didn’t mean to be rude and annoying, like she said,” she said. “It just sort of squeaked out. But really, is there room here? I don’t think so.”
Suddenly there was a high-pitched squeal, followed by a loud crash. Everyone in the cafeteria stopped talking, eating, or moving.
It was Alexis. She’d been walking over to the cheerleader table when she slipped. Her tray had smashed up against her body, then dropped to the ground and landed on her shoes, covering them with shredded lettuce and chopped tomatoes. Salsa clung to her shirt. A pool of soda spread out under her feet.
Alexis was standing with her hands in the air, staring at her spilled tray and her jeans, which were now splattered with soda and salsa.
No one went to help her. Not even Cassidy, or anyone else from their table. Instead, they started applauding. Standing and applauding, with us.
“Is it wrong that I enjoyed that? Because I really enjoyed that,” Olivia said.
Alexis scurried out of the cafeteria, running for cover.
“She totally needs one of these,” said Olivia, patting the pile of T-shirts for sale.
“Yeah, we should find her and give her one,” I said.
“Yeah. But let’s not,” said Taylor. “She can buy one if she wants.”
“Wait a second,” Olivia said. “Is it because of us she just did that?”
“Obviously that had nothing to do with us.” Taylor tossed a straw wrapper onto the floor. “They’re over there.
We’re
over here. It’s scientifically impossible for us to have made that happen.”
“Okay, but what about the broken plate last Friday night?” Olivia asked. “I dropped it, and she just dropped a tray.”
“Oh, that? That’s just a coincidence. It’s not like we have any actual powers. Come on, Olivia. You’re being ridiculous,” said Taylor.
“Right. I mean, probably. I know. It’s just … weird, don’t you think?” she asked.
“The tray probably just came out of the dishwasher and was wet. Her hands slipped. End of story,” Taylor said.
Right. End of story.
But it still seemed like quite a coincidence.
Chapter 14
“Are you hurt?”
I found Cassidy in the gym on Tuesday after school. She was sitting on the bleachers while the rest of the cheer squad was taking turns on the trampoline, doing flips, laughing, and having fun.
I’d been avoiding her. I didn’t feel like apologizing. She’d been mean to me so many times and had never apologized afterward—instead, she usually rubbed it in so that I felt even worse. So why did I have to be the one who apologized?
“Why are you watching instead of jumping?” I asked. “Because you’re injured?”
She shook her head. “No.” She stretched out her legs on the step below her, rubbing her muscles as if to keep them warm.
“Oh. Well, that’s good,” I said. “I guess. Are you just taking a break, then?”
“Not by choice,” she said. “I’d rather be injured than be in the position I’m in now.” She directed a glare across the gym at her teammates and coach. I didn’t really want to get into it with her.
“So, I don’t know if your mom gave you the message or whatever. But I’m sorry about Halloween. Everything that happened,” I said.
“What happened? Oh, wearing the same costume?” She laughed. “Well, that’s not your fault.”
“Okay, but … we kind of egged your house. And got egg on your, uh, face. And hat.”
“That was you?” she asked, looking stunned for a second.
I was just as surprised—why hadn’t her mom told her? I shrugged. “Yeah. It was me. Sorry.”
“No worries,” she said, as if it were no big deal to get egg on her nose. “I thought I heard you guys. Anyway, it was Halloween. Things like that are supposed to happen.”
“Right. I guess. Sorry,” I repeated. I couldn’t understand why she wasn’t more furious with
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