Read Parties & Potions #4 for Free Online Page A

snot is coming out of my nose and I run from the room but I can barely see so I trip and then the room is silent and then I have to kill myself? What then?
    One foot.
    Here he is. And …
    Raf kisses me. On the lips.
    Not a hard-core kiss, but a kiss. A hard-core tongue kiss would be inappropriate in these circumstances. I don’t need a handbook to know that. Anyway, his kiss announces to everyone that I am his girlfriend.
    “Hi,” he says, post-lip action. “You look great.”
    I. Look. Great. Blue was the right choice.
    “Thanks,” I say, sitting beside him. “You too.”
    He winks. “I wore the shirt just for you.”
    How perfect is he? So perfect!
    I wonder if we get to kiss hello every time we meet. Let’s see. That means at least one kiss a day every morning. Plus whenever we bump into each other in the hallway. Plus at lunch. So say, five times a day? Are we going to kiss hello five times a day? Wait, we’d kiss hello and good-bye. Not just hello. That’s what couples do, right? If we stay together for all of high school, that’s three more years. So say ten months of school over three years is thirty months, twenty days a month, which is six thousand kisses. Plus say at least two kisses per weekend, totals six thousand two hundred and forty kisses! And I still haven’t factored in summers. And extra kisses for birthdays (three days till mine, wahoo!), Valentine’s Day, and anniversaries.
    That’s a lot of kisses. I’m going to need more lip gloss.
    Tammy is in advanced math too. I make up crazy formulas for her when she’s bored. She’s going to love this one.
    “Rachel!”
    I look up at the sound of someone calling my name. But I can’t tell where it’s coming from.
    “Rachel!” I hear again. “Rachel Weinstein!”
    Oh no.
    Oh no.
    Oh no, oh no, oh please no.
    Wendaline is in the center of the auditorium, waving at me. She’s wearing her outfit from yesterday. Black tights. Black kimono. Black hat. Omigod.
    “What, is it Halloween?” someone hisses. I turn around to see who. Cassandra. Terrific.
    What is Wendaline doing? Is she insane? Is she trying to be ironic? Is she trying to ruin me?
    “Who is that?” Raf asks.
    “I’ll be right back,” I mutter, my cheeks aflame. I hurry over, grab her by the arm, and am about to pull her outside when Mrs. Konch, the principal, taps her microphone.
    “Can everyone please sit down?”
    What do I do? Should I zap her into a new outfit? No. People will see. And what if her clothing is enchanted or something? And then it explodes?
    I pull her hat off, hand it to her, and whisper, “Put this in your schoolbag and do not take it out. Do you understand? Do not take it out.” I’m tempted to make her sit by herself so no one will associate her with me, but unlike the fashion show people, I am not that mean.
    “Wait, but … do I have hat hair?” She shakes out her long locks.
    That’s what she’s worried about? Exasperated, I lead my startled new friend toward my group.
    “Sit,” I instruct.
    She does. I do not look at her. How does she not know that her clothing is completely unacceptable? How is that possible? And while I thought her charcoal-lined eyes looked nice yesterday, today they just look … wrong.
    Cassandra and company are snickering behind us. I’d turn around to glare at her, but I don’t want to garner any extra attention.
    “Hey, you,” Cassandra jeers. “Girl in the black robe!”
    Wendaline turns around. “Me?”
    Oh great.
    “Yeah. Where did you buy your outfit?” she asks. Her voice is syrupy sweet. “It’s really something else.”
    “Thank you!” Wendaline chirps.
    Cassandra licks her lips. “Are you going to a costume party?”
    Wendaline looks confused. “No. Why?”
    “Because you look like a witch.”
    “Well, that’s because”—as Wendaline’s voice carries, my heart sinks—“I am a witch.”

The Fixer-Upper
     
    She did not just say that. She did not just say that! She did not just tell the