It's Only Temporary by Sally Warner

have no choice.
    (One of the boys I drew – Kee Williams – is probably the mystery artist! And maybe he’s not so bad, after all. But I can’t turn back the clock.)
    I can’t believe this is happening to me! Wish me luck tonight. Love, Skye

    HI SKYE, WE ARE ONLIN AT THE SAME TIME, HAHAHA! ONLY I AM WORRIT ABOT THAT DANCE, YOU SHOUD TELL GRAN MABE OR JUST STAY HOME. WHY DO U HAVE 2 GO??? U ALWAS HAVE A CHOCE. ALMOST ALWAS ANYWAYS. WRITE ME WHEN U GET BACK I WILL WATE UP 2 HEAR. I HATE THOSE GUYS EVEN KEE LOVE SCOTT

18
The Turkey Trot
    â€œY ou look absolutely adorable, Skye,” Gran said, beaming her approval.
    â€œThanks,” Skye said, fidgeting with the square neckline of the one dress she’d brought with her to Sierra Madre.
    â€œYou’re going to have the greatest time,” Gran promised.
    â€œIf you say so,” Skye said, trying not to sound too gloomy.
    â€œYou seem to have made lots of new friends at Amelia Earhart,” Gran pointed out, sticking to the McPhee family tradition of focusing on the positive, no matter what. “You’ll have to invite them over sometime,” she added, smiling.
    â€œYeah,” Skye teased. “We can have a tofu party.”
    â€œI’ve eased up,” Gran protested. “Admit it.”
    It was true, Skye thought; last weekend, Gran had evengone so far as to buy chips – multigrain, salt-free, and baked, not fried, of course – and soda, or some fruity drink a little
like
soda.

    â€œOkay, I admit it,” Skye said, looking at the living-room clock. “But we’d better get going, Gran, ’cause I’m supposed to meet up with my friends exactly twelve minutes from now.”
    â€œOh, no,” Gran said, her eyes wide as she checked the clock’s time against her wristwatch. “That clock’s running fifteen minutes slow, Skye. It must need winding.”
    â€œIt’s
slow
?” Skye exclaimed, squawking the two words. “Hurry up, Gran – or I’m gonna have to walk into that stupid dance all by myself!”

    Skye hesitated alone near the wide-open gymnasium doors, wishing she’d asked Gran to turn the Toyota around and take her straight back to Eucalyptus Terrace. Her fellow art jerks must already be thinking she’d decided to stay home; they sure weren’t waiting for her in front of the cafeteria, the way Pip said they would be.
    The inside of the school gymnasium looked golden from where Skye was standing. Under the big wall clock at the end of the room was the banner the art activities kids had made saying “
We Won!
” but someone had had to add a small, red, last-minute “
Almost
,” just between the “
We
” and the “
Won
.”

    Uh-oh, Skye thought, taking a step back. Amelia Earhart had lost the Homecoming game to Thomas Alva Edison. This was not good.
    â€œCome on in, honey,” a committee mom said, peeking out from the doorway. “Don’t be shy about being here alone. It’s not that kind of party.”
    â€œI know,” Skye said, taking another step back. “I heard.”

    â€œ
There
you are,” Amanda said, popping out from behind the woman.
    â€œFinally,” Pip and Matteo chorused. They appeared to be attached to Amanda’s side by invisible strips of Velcro, and when they dragged Skye into the gymnasium, she joined the cluster.
    â€œHave you seen them yet?” Skye asked, shouting to be heard above the voices and music that swirled around them. “What’s happening?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Pip said, sounding both excited and scared. “Everyone’s talking about the drawings, though. We did it!”
    â€œHey, Skye-chick,” a voice said, and then she heard the art jerks inhale as if they were one person.
    Skye turned around. “Hey,” she said cautiously, seeing Aaron, Cord, Danko, Kee, and the two bad ballerinas standing in