The Quirks, Welcome to Normal by Erin Soderberg

tell me, Pen?” When her sister said nothing, Molly
added, “You know I’m good at math—I can help you get caught up.”
    “I’m not
your
problem,” Penelope grumbled. “I keep the earbuds hidden under my hair. Mr. Intihar hasn’t noticed.”
    “Oh, Pen,” Molly whispered. “That’s a terrible idea.” She stretched her leg over the top bunk, gently finding a foothold on the ladder that would lead her down to
her sister’s bunk. When she’d settled in next to Pen, she quietly said, “You might as well just skip school if you’re not going to listen. It’s like you’re not
even there.” As Molly said it, she realized she shouldn’t have.
    “I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Penelope exclaimed. Her words tumbled out quickly, spilling as though they’d been dammed up for days. “The thing is, I’m
never going to fit in at school anyway. I might as well just stay out of the way and let you enjoy yourself. We can hang out on the weekends and after school and stuff. They’re going to
figure out that I haven’t learned anything yet this year when Mr. Intihar does conferences.” She heaved a sigh.
    Molly buried her face in Penelope’s pillow and growled. She was frustrated with her family for getting in the way and being so different all the time. She was annoyed with her sister for
giving up. But mostly, she was disappointed in herself for not being able to make everything work out the way it should.
    She and Pen lay in the dark, listening to the sounds of their coordinated breathing, each girl thinking her own thoughts. As she began to drift back into sleep, Molly thought about something
she’d considered a hundred times before: Why had the universe or God or whoever was in charge given her no Quirks at all, while her sister was stuffed so full of magic that she couldn’t
contain it?
    Penelope fit in with the other Quirks, but she might never fit in outside their house. Molly might never fit in as a Quirk . . . and
because
of her family, she was always going to have
a hard time fitting in with the outer world, too.
    It just wasn’t fair.

O n M o n d a y , Bree drove all three
of her kids to school for Finn’s first day. It took several hours—and all of Bree’s energy—but eventually she was able to convince Finn’s teacher and the principal and
the school secretary that Finnegan Quirk had, in fact, been sitting quietly at the empty desk in the back row since the first day of the school year. He’d been so quiet, she said, that none
of the other students had even noticed him. Finn slipped into Mrs. Risdall’s class without any major glitches—just a lot of stares—and Bree treated herself to a king-size
chocolate bar on her drive back home.
    During his first days as an honest-to-goodness kindergartner, Finn learned that he was behind in reading—always struggling with the long vowel sounds, which the class had learned in the
first month—and he never seemed to remember his classmates’ names. He hadn’t yet gotten used to actually
chewing
gum, so he often pulled it out of his mouth in a long,
sticky strand and stuck some to his table or a wall or the circle carpet where they read stories. But these were tiny issues, compared to what could have happened.
    Worrying about Finn’s first few days at kindergarten kept Penelope and Molly distracted enough that they didn’t have time to worry about the sleepover party. The week flew by for
everyone until suddenly the weekend—and the night of the sleepover—was
there
.
    Bree dropped the girls off at Stella’s house just before dinner on Saturday night. She followed them inside so she could introduce herself to Stella’s mom, Heather. Meanwhile, Molly
and Pen stepped into the living room and saw that several other girls from their class had arrived already—Izzy, Amelia, and Norah had also been invited. The six girls buzzed around for a few
minutes, zipping between the living room and Stella’s room, while