“You left the door unlocked on purpose!” I realize. 

“Part of Iaira’s job is to keep track of the moon phases. She knew that your sixteenth birthday would be on a blue moon. She said that you had to learn about your heritage on that day. No sooner, no later. That’s why I’ve been so strict on you. But now you know why you weren’t allowed to swim or sing in public.” 

I sigh. “So...I can’t tell anyone?” I ask. My dad shakes his head. 

“Not unless you want to be in a lab for the rest of your life.” I nod my head and walk in the direction of the door. 

“I love you, Dad.” My dad looks up from the stove. 

“I love you too. Have a good day at school okay?” 

“Yeah.” I walk out the door.

I enter my first class, looking at my watch. I’m five minutes early. I walk up the aisle to my table, when I trip over something. Unable to catch myself, I fall onto the floor. I can hear some snickers and concerned voices. I grunt, dusting myself off and making my way to my seat next to Abby. I squint. Something’s not right. 

“You dropped these.” 

I look to my right. There’s a boy standing there. He has chin-length black hair that’s incredibly iconic. His deep brown eyes have that familiar look of adventure. And he’s holding my glasses. 

“Hi Nathan.” Abigail says. Her voice sounds quite playful. More than usual. I take my glasses from his hand. 

“Thank you. I knew something was off.” I cut in.

“How’s it going, ladies? Anyway, this is just the right time. I was going to ask a little favor from you two.” 

“The floor is yours.” I encourage.

“So, I’m turning seventeen and I was hoping that you girls would come to my party that I’m throwing tomorrow afternoon. Luckily, my birthday fell on a Saturday this year, and I wanted to make the most of it. My dad let me borrow his yacht and I’m inviting everyone in this class. So, are you in?” 

“You bet!” Abby and I exclaim in unison. I look past Nathan and I see Jackie. She’s giving me a mocking smirk. Obviously she’s the one who tripped me. She’s in this class too, which means she’s invited to the party. Nathan probably didn’t have a choice, though. If he had a party and he didn’t invite her, she would scream at him so loud he’d turn into the next Beethoven. Quoted from Nathan himself. 

The bell rings and our teacher, Mrs. Peterson, starts going over what we need to study over the test next week. I’m writing down a list when I hear snickering. I look up to see Jackie and one of her friends whispering. I don’t need to read their minds to know what they’re saying. They are terrible at whispering. They keep on talking about Nathan and his party. Then Abby and I’s names show up. I listen closer and surprise, surprise, they’re trash talking us. I roll my eyes. This isn’t uncommon. I look at Abby next to me, and she’s seething with anger, staring daggers at Jackie. I turn my head to look back at Jackie and her friend. They’re suppressing giggles. Suddenly, Jackie’s stool crashes to the ground. Hard. She falls off, dramatically yelping. The room fills with gasps, whispers, and chuckles. 

“Miss Tate, are you alright?” Mrs. Peterson asks. 

“What do you mean, am I alright?” Jackie screeches. “Someone clearly rigged this chair! I wasn’t moving at all!” 

“Well, if someone rigged the chair, it wouldn’t have randomly fallen.” A kid behind me chimes in. 

“Yes it would!” She retorts. “Maybe there was a thread being pulled to make me fall!” She inspects her stool. 

“Jackie, even if that were true, it’s highly unlikely that anyone in this room would be able to manipulate your weight and the stool’s weight combined.” I point out.

“Shut it, Hendrix.” She snaps. Mrs. Peterson claps her hands and everyone in the room immediately stops making noise. 

“Miss Tate, I don’t think you were moving around on the chair, but the legs could be unstable. It’s an old stool, you know. Just be careful from here on out and stop making a scene.” 

Jackie huffs and plops down on her seat, crossing her arms and pouting like a two year old in time out, and Mrs. Peterson resumes her review as if nothing happened.

“Okay, that couldn’t have been an accident.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

Abigail and I are on the roof, eating our lunch. 

“Look,” I explain, “Jackie wasn’t messing around on her chair and the legs on the stool were clearly very stable. Considering–” 

“Okay, okay, I get it Ly, the chair couldn’t have possibly fallen considering the circumstances. You don’t have to get all physics on me.” Abby interrupts.

“What if...it was telekinesis?” I ask. 

Abby scoffs. 

“C’mon, no one can do telekinesis in this school. Although come to think of it…” Her voice trails off, and I get suspicious. 

“What? What is it?” I probe. 

“Nothing, nothing. I heard her talking about us and I just wanted her chair to fall down and–” 

“You what?”

Abby turns to me, raising her hands. “Look, it could’ve been a coincidence! Maybe it just happened to fall down as soon as I willed it to. It’s just a major coincidence, that’s all pure luck! That happens to me all the time! I want something to move a certain way and then it does!” 

“Hold up, hold up, hold up. This isn’t the first time this happened?”

“Uh...no?” 

I look around. There aren’t any other kids up here besides the two of us. I grab her shirt. Abby protests, but I shush her. 

“Neither of us works on Fridays, so you’re walking home with me.”

“What?” 

“We’ll just tell our parents that we’re studying for the test next week. I just want to test a theory.” I let her go. 

“You’re not going to do any weird voodoo, are you?” 

I laugh. “Of course I’m not.” 

Abby sighs with relief. “Oh, good, ‘cause I thought–” 

“You are.” 

“Wait, what?” 

Before I can say anything else, the bell rings. The two of us speed walk down the stairs. 

“You’ll just have to trust me. Remember, we can’t tell anyone.” 

“Of course I trust you. We’ve been friends since we were in diapers. You know I could never betray you.” We reach the bottom of the stairs and hug. 

“I’ll see you in an hour. After that, my house.” 

We break the hug. “Right. See you then, Lyra. Good luck in chem!” 

Then, we go our separate ways, and I reach the classroom, taking my seat just as the bell rings again, signaling the beginning of class.

I look around. Where’s David? He was definitely here for my first class, so where is he now? As if on cue, I hear a knock on the door. My teacher sighs and opens it. David walks in. 

“You’re late again, David.” The teacher chides. 

“Only by ten seconds sir.” David replies, taking his seat in the front.

“Tardiness is tardiness, David, and once the bell rings the second time you–”

“I have to be in my seat, I know, I know.” 

“Don’t get smart with me.” 

David straightens. “Yes sir.” 

I roll my eyes and look down at my notebook.

About half an hour passes and I yawn. Jeez, when are we going to stop talking about sig figs? I understand them just fine. Despite knowing everything, I still meticulously write notes. Better to be safe than sorry. 

For a few moments, I look up, scanning the classroom. Some of the students are taking notes, some are chewing gum discreetly, others are tapping their pens on the table, yawning. My eyes land on David. He’s writing, but very calmly. Mr. Gunn, our teacher, is a notoriously fast writer and talker, and people take notes quickly, because he doesn’t ask for questions, but David is writing quite slowly. 

Adjusting my glasses, I squint, trying to see if I could get a better view of his paper. Just as I do that, the familiar squeaking of the dry erase marker on the whiteboard abruptly stops. When that happens, the scratching of pencils on paper also stops. I look at Mr. Gunn. He’s sighing, putting his marker down and walking over to David, who immediately looks up, covering his paper. Well, that’s suspicious, even for him. 

“David, please tell me that what you’re writing has to do with the class. Can you please tell me what I just said?” 

“If I’m correct, you were just giving us an example that there are three significant figures in 3.95, because there are no zeros.” David responds confidently. I sigh with relief. Thank the Lord he was actually paying attention for once. But then Mr. Gunn takes the sheet of paper from under David’s arms. The teacher reads the sheet of paper and shakes his head, smiling a little. 

“Now, I know that you’re a junior and you want to have as much fun as you can in high school, but you can’t write love letters in class. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if I threw this away.” 

“No sir.” David says with a stiff voice. 

Mr. Gunn crumples up the sheet of paper and tosses it into the small trash can by his desk as my classmates are suppressing giggles. I’m just happy that Jackie’s not in this class. I lower my head to continue taking notes while Mr. Gunn picks up where he left off.

The bell rings and I suppress an over dramatic sigh of relief. I pack my things and text my dad, letting him know that Abby’s coming today. I jog down some stairs to the entrance, where Abby’s waiting for me. I run over to her. 

“Did you text your parents?” I ask her. She nods. 

“Yeah, I did. They’re totally cool with it. And they said I could even attend the party tomorrow!” 

“Nice! I’ll have to ask my dad about the second thing though.” We high-five as we exit campus.

I open the door to the house, which is unlocked, thankfully. “Hi Dad!” I call out. “I’m home!” My dad comes downstairs to greet us. 

“Hi girls! It’s nice to see you again, Abigail, it’s been a while.” Abby giggles. 

“It certainly has, Mr. Hendrix.” 

My dad shakes his head, grinning. “You haven’t changed. How many times have I told you, call me Jack, please. You’re family, remember?” 

“Of course Mr. Hendrix, I mean, Jack.” Abby responds, chuckling nervously.

“Anyway, you remember where Lyra’s room is, just go up there and do your thing. And by the way, Abby, your parents called beforehand and said you had to be home by eight. Do you understand?” 

“Uh-huh. Anyway, it was a pleasure to see you again, Jack, but Lyra and I have a test next Friday and I’m not doing the best in lit, so–” 

“I know, go on, don’t let me stop you.” Dad walks to the dining room table and opens his laptop. He’s going to be grading papers for hours. I take Abby’s wrist and run up the stairs, opening my bedroom door. We both walk inside, and I put my hand on the doorknob. 

“Okay, Abby, we can’t tell anyone about what’s about to go down in here, so are you in?” Abby nods, and I nod back, slowly closing the door until it clicks.