The Popularity Spell by Toni Gallagher Page B

sits on the floor by my bed. “It happens, Cleo. Sometimes pets die when you least expect it. Maybe it was just her time.”
    “But millipedes have a life span of five to seven or seven to ten years, depending on what website you look at,” I tell him, sniffling in between the words.
    “That’s the problem, Cleo,” Dad says. “You don’t know when it’s going to happen, and lots of times there’s no reason at all.”
    “But I hate it.” I pause. “I mean, I don’t like it.”
    Dad smiles a little. “No, it’s okay to hate it, Cleo. It’s really hard. The only thing you can do is keep living your life the best you can, and make sure that when that person looks down at you from heaven, she’s proud.”
    “You mean millipede,” I say.
    “Yes. I mean millipede.” Dad has little tears in his eyes, just around the edges.
    I didn’t know he liked Marty that much.

T he first thing I do in the morning is go to the terrarium and make sure Millie is alive. When I see him crawling around like normal, I run to the kitchen to pick out the rottenest piece of banana we have so he can eat an awesome feast while I’m at school.
    “You feel all right after last night?” Dad asks.
    “Yeah,” I say. “At least Millie’s doing okay.”
    I throw my clothes on—not even caring if my socks match—and I walk out back. I don’t see the gravesite at first because there are lots of patches of dirt in between the grassy spots of our yard. Then I notice a big rock that I’ve never seen before. I walk over to it, thinking about Marty—remembering the way she liked rotten apple better than banana, and how she felt cool and tickly when she crawled on my arm.
    As I get closer I see that underneath the big rock are a bunch of smaller ones spelling out a word.
    LOVE.
    I don’t know who did it. Dad? Terri? Mom up in heaven? Magic?
    I don’t know, but I like that it’s there.
    —
    When I see Sam at school, I don’t tell her about last night. She never even met Marty, and I don’t want to ruin the good feeling she has from Madison’s awesome embarrassment. Pretty soon my sadness goes away a little bit, because everywhere I go, I’m hearing stories of Madison’s presentation and its spectacular, stinky twist.
    “Were you really there?” a seventh-grade girl asks me in the bathroom. I nod. “That must’ve been so funny.”
    “It was,” I say, but I can’t think of anything to add because I’m so surprised a stranger is talking to me.
    “Excellent. Well, see you around,” she says, and heads out.
    Wow. I stand there, staring at the bathroom door. Could this be it? Is the second part of our hex coming “to fruition” already?
    Is this what being popular feels like? People you don’t know talk to you and say “see you around” like they actually
want
to see you around? During our outdoor break, I almost feel like a celebrity as I stroll proudly across the courtyard to the jungle gym. Sam’s already there and she says the same kind of thing happened to her, except it was a boy who’s not in Focus! but wished he was. That’s definitely the first time I’ve heard of anyone wanting to be in Focus! I think we actually might be popular!
    Out of nowhere, Scabby Larry comes up and sits down next to us. “How cool was Focus! class yesterday?” he says.
    “Totally cool!” I reply. It’s hard not to be happy, and even though it’s only Scabby Larry, I can’t remember another time when anyone has joined me and Samantha during outdoor break, unless it’s Madison and her friends making fun of us.
    “Could it have been something she ate?” Scabby Larry wonders out loud. “I can’t imagine Madison eating a lot of beans. What else makes you fart?”
    “What makes you think Cleo and I want to sit here and talk to you about farts?” Samantha asks.
    “Just making conversation.”
    “Well, maybe you should converse with other Focus! kids,” Samantha suggests. “We’re busy.”
    “Okay,” Scabby Larry says,