Read White is for Magic for Free Online Page A

nightmare, ask yourself what you think your mind is trying to figure out. I think you'll be surprised with the result." She smiles at me and gives a slight nod of the head, confident in a job well done.
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    Once she gets me to promise to stop by later in the week--even though I know that won't happen--I'm free to go to D-block computers. Mr. Lecklider's got us all broken up into groups working on these huge, all-encompassing projects. While he sits at the back of the room playing round after round of Free Cell, my group--comprised of me and Amber and Cory and Emma (a couple of Hillcrest's newest recruits)--is working on a new Web site for the school.
    "I wonder if we should scan in a picture of the cafeteria pizza," Amber says. "You know, so kids can see what kind of food we eat here."
    To this, Emma blows her nose extra loud, as though enthused by the suggestion.
    'Are you kidding?" Cory asks. "We actually want kids to come here."
    "Then how about we scan in a picture of my ass?" Amber says.
    "I repeat," he says. "We actually want kids to come here."
    "I think the cafeteria pizza is good," Emma snorts between nose-blows.
    "It is good." Amber hands Emma a fresh tissue from the box, replacing the tiny ball Emma has been recycling for the past ten minutes. "It's actually the only yummy food that comes out of the cafeteria."
    "Forget it," Cory says. "We have enough pics."
    Lucky for us, Cory is a major computer geek. He elected to take this class only for the easy A.
    So, while he packs the
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    Web site with everything from course descriptions to postcard-worthy pictures of the campus pond during sunset, I can browse the free e-cards on greetings4you.com. Since I was in major bitch mode the other morning with Chad, and since I won't get to see him until the last block of the day, I figure this is the quickest, most convenient way to say "I'm sorry."
    I click through the array of sentiments--mice squeaking "I love you," cows mooing "I miss you,"
    lovesick kissing fish, forget-me-not flowers, "you're my fuzzy-wuzzy" slippers, and numerous
     
    "I'm sweet on you" candies. I decide on one that's corny but cute: two pigs holding up a sign that says "hogs and kisses" while a peppy version of Louis Armstrong's "A Kiss to Build a Dream On" plays in the background.
    I quickly turn the volume down on my computer, glance over my shoulder to make sure I haven't attracted Mr. Lecklider's attention--I haven't--and begin typing my message: Dear Chad,
    Just a little note to tell you I'm sorry
    I freaked the other day. I'm glad you
    surprised me.
    Call me later.
    Hogs and kisses!
    Luv,
    Me
    I click on the Send icon, feeling a smidgen better. I close the window and go into my e-mail account. There are five
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    messages--two opportunities to work from home and make five thousand dollars per month, an offer to enlarge the body parts of my choice, this month's online issue of TeenReads, and a message from Silversorcererl98 marked "Stacey, we need to talk." I'm tempted to trash it, since I know no Silversorcerers whatsoever, but since I'm curious, I click it open.
    "Dear Stacey," it reads. "Didn't mean to scare you the other morning in the boiler room. We need to talk. Meet me tonight at 11:30 at the Hangman Cafe."
    A horrible, sticky feeling bubbles up in my throat.
    "Stacey?" Amber says. "Why do you look as pale as my butt cheeks?"
    I gesture to my computer screen. Amber rolls her chair beside me to look. "Holy Miss Molly,"
    she says. "Do you think it's the same guy?"
    "What else am I supposed to think?"
     
    "What's up?" Cory asks. He leans in toward us, his shaggy, mud-brown hair hanging down the sides of his face.
    "Girl stuff." Amber covers the screen with her hands, two big Porky Pig stickers stuck to her wrists.
    "Show me," he says.
    "I don't think so," Amber says.
    "Well, then I don't think you guys will be receiving credit on this project," Cory says. "I have done all the work."
    Emma inhales her concern.
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    "Fine," I say.