The Zodiac Collector by Laura Diamond Page B

me.
    I wince. “Sorry.”
    â€œQuiet,” Ms. Sutters wanders down our row. She pauses between Mary and me. Vanilla and cinnamon drift off her, and my nose tingles with a sneeze. Her brown bob ends precisely at her jaw, straight and boring like her boxy, plain white shirt and navy pants. She peers down her aardvark-like schnoz at me.
    â€œI was apologizing for startling my sister,” I explain.
    Her thin lips grow thinner. “Why don’t you go up to the board and solve the equation?”
    My head whips back and forth. “No way, I can’t.”
    Her arched brow climbs her forehead. “Try it. The class will help you.”
    Swallowing my pride and begging my knees to hold me up, I slide out of my seat and do the dead-man-walking march to the whiteboard.
    My fingers curl around the red marker. I yank off the cap and raise the point to the space beneath the math problem. My vision blurs as I search for something recognizable. Surely, I can get the problem started. A wheeze shivers in my chest. I need to start writing. I need to save face.
    Soft snickers trickle behind me. My ears combust and sweat bursts from my body.
    Ms. Sutters claps once. “Let’s be productive, class, not judgmental. Shequan, give Anne a hand.”
    I grind my teeth at the scrape of metal chair legs against tile floor. Quick footsteps move in and Shequan appears at my side. He picks up a blue marker, gives me an easy smile without any hint of pity, and explains the solution to me while scribbling across the board almost as fast as Sutters had.
    â€œCan you take the test for me?” I whisper as he underlines his final answer.
    His grin flashes brighter. “No, but I can teach you a trick to solving these problems. Come find me during lunch, okay?”
    I nod. “Thanks.”
    He drops the marker on the rack and saunters to his desk.
    I turn to follow him, but Ms. Sutters extends a hand.
    â€œWait. I’ll put another equation on the board for you to practice on.” Her clunky heels pound the floor, sealing my fate step by step.
    I stand there, frozen to the ground, in front of the class, wishing I could melt into the wall and disappear.
    There’s no way I’m going to solve any equation, let alone pass the exam.
    * * *
    â€œI think the girls would like riding lessons.” Dad’s voice carries from inside, through the screen door, to the porch where Mary and I halt, striking awkward poses—arms mid-swing and legs half in the air—like we used to while playing Red Light, Green Light.
    â€œHorses are dangerous animals. Besides, we can’t afford lessons,” Mom says. They must be in her studio. I can’t imagine she’d be anywhere else, considering she only leaves the room to pee or grab some food.
    â€œMarcus is a good trainer. They’ll be in good hands. It’s for their birthdays. They deserve something nice; they’re good kids.” He’s pleading with her. I gotta give Dad props for defending us.
    â€œIt’s not happening!” she screams.
    I catch Mary’s gaze. Her shoulders square with rigid fear while mine slump with disappointment. Mom’s heinous. There’s no reason to hope she’ll change. If I do get a spell to work, she’ll find some way to ruin things, whether it’s my birthday or something else. The proof is in the porridge, since we can’t even go horseback riding. Other kids turning sixteen would be begging for a car. Mary and I wanted a nice party and riding lessons. Not a big deal at all, but in Mom’s world both are impossible.
    It’s like she can’t let us be happy. Or maybe she just doesn’t want us to be.
    â€œYou’re being ridiculous, Liz,” Dad says.
    Oh boy. He’s essentially poked the dragon with a stick. My lips curl back from my teeth. Mary takes a reflexive step backward.
    â€œWhat?” Mom’s screech is like a handful of razor blades slicing