Read Maggie Malone and the Mostly Magical Boots for Free Online Page B

down in the lunch line and he was wearing underpants with rainbows and unicorns on them. I wish I could unsee that. I also hope I can keep it together in front of these super-cool teenage professionals. At Stinkerton, all I wanted was for someone to notice me. My mom says it all the time: be careful what you wish for.

“Please grab a seat, Becca,” Louisa says nicely. I am guessing she’s the teacher or tutor or something like that. Vi hands me a stack of books and paper and leaves.
    â€œToday we need to review chapters eleven through seventeen for your test next week,” Louisa tells us. I flip through my book—that’s, like, a hundred pages! I wonder how long “school” lasts and if there’ll at least be a potty break. I’m guessing there’s no recess around here.
    â€œYou’re welcome to work alone or pair up and do some practice tests,” Louisa adds. Wow, we get a choice? I like being treated like an adult!
    I turn to the backup dancer sitting closest to me. Her name is Macy McLean and she’s fifteen; I know this because I’m a huge fan of Dance Rock USA . She’s got at least thirteen piercings in each ear—all real, from the looks of it—and either her mom is way better than mine at putting on temporary tattoos or this kid who’s not that much older than me is sporting real ink. Let’s just say she doesn’t exactly look like a bookworm. If I’m going to pair up with anybody and not get crushed like a bug, I’m thinking it’s her.
    â€œWant to be partners?” I ask.
    â€œSure,” she says with a big smile. “Let’s make each other a practice test.” Then she winks at me.
    Oh, I get it! We don’t actually have to do this crazy math stuff. Phew! I mean, I get straight As at home and all, but this book is a few years ahead of me. I smile back at Macy and we each take out some paper.
    I can’t wait to see what Macy is going to do. Maybe she’ll write a funny poem like Stella always does or make up a friendship quiz. I decide to draw her a picture, since that’s my thing and I’m pretty good at drawing horses.
    â€œYou ready to switch?” Macy asks a few minutes later. I scribble “I (heart) horsing around!” at the top of my page, fold it in half, and slide it across the table to her. Then I open hers.
    Macy did not write me a funny poem or make up a friendship quiz. She also didn’t draw me a picture. No, Macy filled her page with about four hundred and fifty tiny, perfectly neat, totally impossible math equations. We each stare at our papers for a second and then at each other.
    â€œBecca, what is this?” she whispers, looking worried.
    â€œIt’s….well…it’s a horse,” I say. “I’m sorry, Macy. I just can’t concentrate today. And this stuff is really hard.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you tell me you were having trouble?” she asks. “You know I’m always happy to help you with your schoolwork. I am a math tutor on the side, you know. And science and Latin, of course.”
    Well, knock me down with a squirrel sneeze! Apparently I was wrong about Macy not being the brightest bulb on the porch. And I guess when people treat you like an adult, you’re supposed to act like an adult too. I’m going to have to work on that one.
    Just then, Vi sweeps into the room.
    â€œSorry crew, we have to cut today’s lesson short,” she announces. “Becca needs to get into hair and makeup, and the rest of you have your workout in five.”
    We start packing up our stuff.
    â€œCan I keep your horse?” Macy asks with a smile. “It’s super cute. I might see if my tattoo guy can copy it!”
    â€œAll yours,” I tell her, absolutely positive that if I turn on Dance Rock USA someday and see Macy McLean with a tattoo of my horse on her arm, my head will explode on the spot.

After the