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  For Kate. She knows why.

  CHAPTER ONE

  BACK TO (UN)COOL

  There were literally zero days left. The summer had zipped past like so many zippy things do: scooters, bugs, even … um, zippers. We stood at the precipice of The Future.

  “Still here, innit?” my best friend Charlie grumbled in his faux British accent as he gazed up at the cold gray concrete face of Pearce Middle. The stark contrast between the dull building and Charlie’s bright red hair strained my eyes.

  “Yep,” I sighed.

  As usual, our lockers were in the same hall, and this year they were almost directly across from each other. It was a miracle. Charlie and I had been best friends since before the dawn of time, and our lockers had never been this close. Not even when our lockers were called cubbies.

  “Sweet!” I said as we both got settled.

  “What’s our combo again?” Charlie asked, fiddling with the lock from the set we had bought. It was tradition for us to have the same combination so we could get into each other’s lockers, should the need arise. Sort of our version of the Emergency Contact you put on a field trip permission slip. Except most of the time Charlie was just borrowing books, pencils, and the occasional apple. Not that I would ever want an eaten apple returned to me.

  The bell rang.

  “Okay, I’m in Fisher’s homeroom,” Charlie reminded me.

  “And I’m in McGill’s.”

  “Ta!” Charlie raced off. His homeroom was on the next floor. Luckily mine was just a few doors down.

  I casually put my hands in my pockets and fanned my fingers, wiping my damp palms on the fabric inside. I was nervous. Who isn’t nervous on the first day of school? That was totally normal, but unlike all the normal kids around me, my nerves could cause a big problem. Not that long ago a very weird thing had started happening to me. My emotions, my strongest emotions—you know, the ones you try really hard to hide—started showing up in real life whenever I had them. Everyone could see exactly what I was feeling! Whether I saw my crush and got bombarded by giggling cartoon hearts or shrank to the size of an ant when I was scared, my emotions could embarrass me at any moment. Not to mention all the bad stuff that would come with the world finding out what I could do. I’m not (totally) complaining, though. Over the summer I had gotten better control over my “powers,” though that’s a whole other messy story. Anyway, I was having fewer uncontrolled flare-ups and was even beginning to feel when my emotions were going to burst into our dimension.

  Still, I was very nervous.

  I slid in just as the second bell rang and took a seat in the middle of the row closest to the windows. Looking around, I saw a few familiar faces. I easily spotted Hun Su, who looked like she’d just stepped out of a cool-girl boutique’s display window. She had caused me a lot of trouble last year, but we had made up over the summer when we were at film camp together. It was a lot of work but also a lot of fun, and I felt like I got to see another side of her. That side is just as perfect and beautiful, it turns out, but after spending so much time with her, I kinda felt like we came to an understanding. As much as you can really understand someone you have absolutely nothing in common with. But that was good enough for me. We shared a quick wave as Mr. McGill began roll call.

  After that, it was time for announcements. The intercom crackled, and I heard the voices of two other kids from camp: the Tech Twins! Lizzie and Dean had been in charge of all things technical during our film production at camp. As you may have guessed, they were twins and very much lived up to everything TV had ever taught me about twins. It seemed like they had this psychic connection that meant they didn’t need to explain anything to each other. It was super cool.

  Their announcement was brief and full of info, much like the Twins themselves. They told us about the lunch offerings and team tryouts and reminded us to have a wonderful day. The Twins normally weren’t big talkers, so it was fun to hear them be (forcibly) chatty. A few minutes after that, the bell rang again and I was off to art class. My absolute favorite! I looked around for Charlie. Much like our lockers had always been in the same hall, our schedules had always been the same, too. I wasn’t really sure about the science of it, but I was very grateful to science, or kismet, or Mr. Gonzales, who does all the school’s computer programming. Anyway, Charlie hadn’t gotten there yet, so I found us an open table and got settled in. With art as my first class, I probably wouldn’t be late a single day this year. Fresh from the office, Lizzie and Dean came in.

  “Hey, you two!” I said once they spotted me and came over, claiming the table next to mine and Charlie’s. “You did great this morning.”

  “Thanks,” Lizzie said. “We’re trying to round out our skill base.”

  “The goal is to be in front of the camera and behind,” Dean explained.

  “That’s great. I love a double threat. Or a double double threat, in your case,” I joked.

  They both laughed.

  “How’s Charlie?” Dean asked.

  “Good! Should be here any minute.”

  “Excellent,” Lizzie added. “I wanted to ask him for his brother’s email address.”

  Charlie’s older brother, Nick, had run our film summer camp. I didn’t have a crush on him. Never. Never ever.

  The bell rang again, and there was no Charlie.

  Our art teacher, Mrs. Brannon, came in and looked around the room. “Happy first day, my morning advanced artists! Looks like everyone is here,” she said with a broad smile. “I’m so excited to see what each of you will come up with this term in our Free Art period.”

  I raised my hand and said, “Charlie isn’t here yet, and I’m sure he’ll want to start with us.”

  “Hmm.” Her brow furrowed. “Well, let’s get to work and see when he drifts in.”

  The thing is, Charlie never drifted in. Not through the whole class.

  I started work on my wedding gift to Dad and Ms. Watson. I had gone through a lot of ideas trying to come up with something that would be appropriate for both of them. It had taken about three days of Charlie and me wracking our brains to conclude that no such gift existed in the entire world. My dad was a rough-and-tumble, loud, bossy, nosy, wonderful man. Ms. Watson was stiff, quiet, and exacting—like a mix of a former FBI agent and a guidance counselor, which is exactly what she was. After learning about my powers, Ms. Watson decided to protect my butt as well as be a pain in it—which I say with all the love! It’s just some freaky intense opposites-attract stuff with those two. The gift I eventually landed on was a mantel-worthy portrait of the two of them, and considering realism isn’t my strongest area, it was going to be a really hard project. I was just roughing out the shapes of their heads when Mrs. Brannon stopped by to see how it was going.

  “I’m really pleased you’re focusing on your technical skills this term, Veronica,” Mrs. Brannon said.

  “At least for this project,” I confessed. “I think I
’ll always prefer more abstract art.”

  “What do you think about your composition there?” She pointed to the center of the canvas, between Dad’s and Ms. Watson’s heads.

  “There isn’t anything there.”

  “Hmm.” She nodded. “Might want to consider that.”

  I considered it for a solid three milliseconds after she walked away. The wedding was too close and I needed to get this done. I had spent a lot of time trying to get good, natural pictures of the two of them together without seeming like I was their child stalker. I had finally decided to use one that Charlie had accidentally snapped at movie night a few weeks ago. They were both laughing, looking at the TV, but it was a great three-quarter profile shot of both of them. I was in the picture, too, sort of in the background, so I had Photoshopped myself out.

  Next, I went to English class. I set one of my notebooks on the desk next to me so no one would sit there while I waited for Charlie to show up. Again, the class filled up, the bell rang, and there was no Charlie to be seen.

  I pulled out my phone to text him quickly.

  “This is the impression you want to give on the first day?” the voice of our English teacher boomed from over me. But that voice wasn’t the kindly southern drawl of Mr. Murray. It was a pinched, commanding voice that sent shivers down my spine.

  “Mr. Stephens?” I squeaked, surprised to see our drama teacher anywhere near the English rooms. Talk about drama. Mr. Stephens had never liked me. I had auditioned for every single play he put on, both at school and at the local community theater, and he never cast me. I couldn’t have been that bad an actor. I mean, how bad do you have to be to get turned down for a non-speaking background role? We were also not the friendliest over the summer when my movie and his play were going to be shown at the same time. Although we found a way to work that out, our relationship had not grown even a degree warmer. Dad told me that people like Mr. Stephens thrive on creating drama, and the best thing you can do is avoid them.

  “Unfortunately,” Mr. Stephens told the class, “the cruise ship that Mr. Murray was voyaging on was infected with keel-to-mast dysentery. I will be subbing for him until he is feeling good again.”

  “Well,” I corrected him before I realized I was even doing it.

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s, um, ‘feeling well,’ not ‘feeling good.’”

  “Correcting people is not polite, Veronica.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be rude. It’s only because we’re in English class,” I said meekly.

  “It’s always something with you,” he said flatly.

  Not so easy to avoid this drama, Dad, I thought.

  “Which reminds me,” he said, returning his attention to my attempt to text Charlie.

  “Sorry,” I said, and went to put the phone back in my pocket.

  “Nope. Hand it over,” he said, his hand stretched out directly in front of my face.

  I sighed and handed him my phone. There were quite a few snickers from my lovely, mature, and supportive classmates.

  “You can get it back at the end of the day,” he said. Then, after he walked to the front of the room and plopped my phone into his desk drawer, he asked, “Who is missing? Did someone leave without asking permission?”

  I quickly realized that Mr. Stephens was looking at the desk I had saved for Charlie. More than anything, I really did not want any more attention from Mr. Stephens. I was already embarrassed, and deep inside it felt like my powers were starting to wiggle to life. I wasn’t sure how long I could control them with Mr. Stephens on my case.

  “Veronica, do you have any idea? It’s the seat right next to you,” he asked, but I could tell he already knew.

  Fighting the biggest eye roll in the history of eye rolls, I said, “It’s mine. I was saving a seat for my friend.”

  “An imaginary friend?” he asked. The class burst out in laughter, which only egged on his theater-loving, attention-seeking ego.

  “No—” I started.

  “Well, there isn’t anyone there, so they must not exist. Don’t worry, Veronica, we’ll keep your secret.” He winked at the class as he pranced to the desk next to me with a few pencils and a spare calculator. After he set them meticulously on the desk, he pretended to pat the imaginary student sitting there on the head, which threw the other kids into further hysterics.

  “You’ll be a star pupil, I’m sure!” he said to the empty chair. It seemed as long as my classmates kept laughing, he’d keep hamming it up at my expense. “What shall we call Veronica’s friend? Imagin-Amy?” he asked gleefully.

  “Yes!” a few of the kids agreed.

  “Great. I think it’s perfect.” Mr. Stephens must have noticed my silent hatred. “Oh, Veronica, don’t be so serious! We’re just having fun.”

  Yeah, fun for you. The entire class is laughing at me! I caught myself wanting to disappear. No, no, no, Veronica, I told myself, do not disappear! My stupidpowers were doing their darndest to activate. I looked down at the floor, and sure enough, my sneakers were no more than an outline. Invisibility was starting to spread up my legs. I wanted to jump up and escape! I couldn’t get up. I couldn’t walk out of class on nonexistent legs! I crossed them under me in hopes that no one would notice, but the invisibility was creeping up almost to my waist! Out of desperation, I flung open my English textbook as loudly as I could, letting the hard cover of the thick book hit the desk. It made an adequately loud BAM! It was enough to remind Mr. Stephens that this was English class and we needed to move on.

  “We’ll check on our newest, most streamlined friend later,” he said with a sly grin before going back to real school stuff.

  So annoying. Almost as annoying as my powers. As the embarrassment wore off, the effects of my powers did, too—and I used my now-visible legs to rush out of there as soon as the bell rang.

  “Bye, Veronica! Can’t wait to not see you tomorrow, Imagin-Amy!” Mr. Stephens trilled after me.

  I couldn’t wait to vent to Charlie in our next class. But he wasn’t in that class or the next one—or at lunch!

  And guess what? That’s how it went all day! Where the heck was Charlie?

  After final period, I ran back to Mr. Murray’s/Mr. Stephens’s room and retrieved my phone, somehow resisting the urge to kick him in the shin (I know, I’m a saint), and then I hurried to our lockers.

  As I waited for Charlie to show up, I doodled in my notebook. My dad and his fiancée (feels super weird saying that!) were getting married in a little less than two weeks (feels even weirder saying that!), so I was just sketching out some ideas for reception decorations. My dad was a real old-timey tough guy, but he loved weddings. Considering how his marriage to my mother turned out, that always surprised me. Anyway, his love of the matrimonial ceremony was causing a little tension. His bride-to-be was rather insistent on a quick stop at the courthouse followed by a quiet cocktail at home.

  Finally, Charlie’s red head came bobbing down the hall.

  “Where were you?” we asked each other at the same time.

  Without another word, we both took our schedules out of our bags. I unfolded mine as Charlie tried to flatten his crumpled mess.

  “Are you kidding me?” I guffawed when I saw what had happened.

  “Not a single bloody class together? Veri?”

  “How are we just realizing this now?”

  “Well, we’ve never not had most of our classes together. And we do have a lot of the same classes,” he said as he eyed the papers, “just not at the same time.”

  “Not cool.”

  “Not cool at all.”

  “Sup?” Betsy mumbled as she walked up to us, her black hair hanging over her eyes.

  Betsy is our friend now. Betsy is our friend now. Betsy is our friend now. I often had to remind myself of this. Betsy had picked on me since kindergarten. She was bigger than everyone then and she was still bigger than me. I was never really sure why she chose me as her target, except once in fourth grade she told m
e my face was “very punchable.” Man, things had changed in the past few months. Betsy found out about my powers and didn’t tell! She was actually really cool and, more importantly, didn’t find me very punchable anymore. Still, even though we had spent the remainder of the summer hanging out with her, there was something about being back in school with my former bully that made me nervous about her all over again.

  “Betsy is our friend now,” I blurted out.

  She and Charlie raised their eyebrows at me.

  “I mean, Betsy, our friend, how is your first day going?” I asked, then let out a tiny, awkward laugh.

  “Charlie and I were gonna ask you the same question.”

  “’Charlie and I’?”

  “Betsy and I have, like, every class together,” Charlie explained. “Even health, and I’m fairly certain I’m not supposed to be in the girls’ class.”

  “So you guys get to hang out, but I’m alone? All day? It’s a conspiracy!”

  “Totally!” Charlie thought for a moment before saying, “Can’t you have Ms. Watson do something about that? I mean, she is a proper employee here. I’m sure she could quietly change our schedules without anyone noticing.”

  The three of us burst out laughing.

  “Good one, Charlie,” I said. “Ms. Watson bend a rule? Never!”

  “Excuse me?”

  We turned around to see Ms. Watson standing in the office doorway nearby.

  “Did you need something from me?” she asked, her pristine black leather briefcase in her hand.

  “No,” we all said at once.

  “I’m leaving, McGowan,” she said. “Are you ready?”

  “Uh, I’m going to walk with Charlie, if that’s okay?” I answered.

  She nodded and left.

  “Ms. Watson being all over your personal life?” Betsy shuddered. “I don’t know if I could ever get used to that.”

  “Me either. And she’s about to become my stepmom.”

  Betsy grunted and waved goodbye as she headed to her bus.