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bio? You might still be able to switch classes.”
    “Maybe.” Humiliation scorched my cheeks. There must have been something about math ability in the Biology course description. I must have skipped it. But Parvani wouldn’t have. She’d probably highlighted it.
    “Don’t you have the Smash Heads in Gym?” Salem asked.
    “Yeah. Unfortunately.”
    “Keep your guard up. I heard we start Capture the Flag next week.”
    “Are you kidding? How middle school can you get?”
    Salem fluffed her bangs. “This is Coach Willis’s first year teaching high school. He’s from some middle school down south. I don’t think he’s made the adjustment yet.”
    “Great.” I pictured the weeks of torture ahead and grew queasier. I knew the Smash Heads would take me prisoner, or I’d trip over one of the orange cones dividing the field. I so do not need this.
    I hoisted the Quarter Guardians over my shoulder. By some ill magic, they seemed twice as heavy.
     

Chapter Seven
     
    My arms and shoulders ached the next day from carrying the stupid rocks. I needed to start working out after this whole spell business was over.
    Thanks to some major rain Sunday night, the field was flooded on Monday, and we couldn’t play Capture the Flag. When Gym ended, Parvani rushed off to Miss Ravenwood’s class.
    As I trailed behind, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I readied for a Smash Head sneak attack, but came face to face with Jordan. Looking into his blue eyes felt like skinny-dipping in Lake Tahoe at Christmastime. The shock stole my breath.
    “Hey,” he said.
    I shouldered my backpack. “Hey.”
    He glanced around, as if making sure no one could overhear us as we walked toward the door. “Does your Mom still belong to the women’s service club?”
    A pang of grief rose from its pine box and stabbed me. “Nah. She quit after Dad died.”
    “Oh. I’m sorry.”
    “It’s okay.” We stepped out into the cool autumn air. I pulled the front of my hoodie up to my nose. “Why? What’s up?”
    “I remembered one of their philanthropies helped seniors.” His voice trailed off. “I, like, couldn’t think of its name.”
    “Contact Care.”
    “That’s it.” His lips pressed together and his eyes glistened.
    I stopped and placed my hand on his forearm. “Is this about your grandpa? Is he getting worse?”
    Jordan nodded, then pressed his hand against his lips. “I gotta get to class.” His voice caught. “Bye.”
    “See ya.” Regret washed over me as I watched him hurry off to Honors Geometry, his shoulders hunched as if he carried a burden far heavier than his backpack.
    Coward, I scolded myself. I should have given him a hug.
    Memories flooded back of all the times Jordan’s grandpa had taken us to get ice cream or see a movie. Funny, I didn’t have as many memories of Jordan’s parents—they had always been at work. I wondered which was worse. To have a loved one go quickly, like Dad, so the grief slammed you like a bus, or slowly, like Jordan’s grandfather, where each day you saw them slip further and further away. There should have been a third option, where everyone lived on in an enchanted ever after.
    How does Jordan do it? Hide his despair. Function like normal. Convince people like Parvani he’s easy going, without a care.
    I’ve heard of “aha” moments. Instead of a light bulb illuminating above my head, a blinding strobe light flashed. Jordan had trusted me enough to ask for help. And I was going to let Parvani steal him away with a love spell?
    No way.
    I entered Spanish fueled with righteous determination, and scored a hundred percent on the pop quiz. The sun came out during lunch. My mood continued its upward trajectory until I remembered I still had to go to Algebra.
    I slunk into the classroom and hid in the back row, my thoughts confetti. I have to stop Parvani. I can’t let her perform the spell just to spite Miss Ravenwood.
    The sharp screech of chalk drew my attention to the front of the