The Geek Revolution ✓

34 | letterman

I HAVE NEVER REALLY BEEN a superstitious person.

But the first day back to school after the winter break, my stomach is falling over itself, completely without reason. It feels like an omen, a premonition. Actually, I've become ten times more paranoid since meeting Brittany and her friends this year. I'm less gullible than before, but also extremely, ridiculously cautious.

For example: after the Monarchy trashed all our lockers and spread edited pictures of me around the crime scene, I've looked over my shoulder to make sure no-one's watching me too intently. I tightened up my social media privacy settings and blocked all five of them. And ever since Terrence broke into my locker and stole belongings after Gym class, I've been resetting my combination at regular intervals. Thank you, WikiHow.

My hands are cold as I close my locker, regarding the cusses graffitied on them with no more than a mild disdain. Our lockers are still adorned with insults that someone — probably under Brittany's command — wrote, which our school refused to acknowledge, let alone remove.

Leah covered her locker with music stickers and posters, which she'll surely have to peel off before she graduates. Drew took a Sharpie and turned the swearing and insults into lopsided swords and dragons — which, to this day, I admire as a work of true creativity. The rest of us have just let them be. Because since that awful day, the graffiti has really lost its sting.

"Morning."

I jump involuntarily at the sudden voice piercing through my reminiscing. Yet a cheerful smile grows on me when I see Quentin at my side, flute clutched in hand. "Morning. You on your way to Music?"

"Yeah."

The weird sense that something happened — or will happen — plagues me on our walk to Music Theory. Once inside, things are as they normally are. "Damn, Sophie," Quentin chuckles. "You look so on edge. Too much coffee? Hungover?"

That makes me release a breath I hadn't realised I've been holding, and unclench my jaw and fists. "I didn't drink any coffee today. I'm just... overthinking and driving myself—"

"—crazy." Exasperated, Quen throws a hand into the air. "Tell me about it! I've been trying so hard to pass AP Chem I don't have any time or energy for anything else. I hate it."

"Then why'd you take it?"

"I want to study Engineering in college."

"Then things could be worse. You could be failing all your subjects, and Music Theory, too—"

He shudders, "Are you trying to make this worse? You're going to jinx it, Soph."

"I feel like I'm jinxed. I walked into school, and felt like everything had been moved one inch to the left."

"Maybe it has."

I slap his shoulder lightly, "I'm serious! This whole Revolution thing has taught me to trust my instincts. No-one is acting any different, but it seems like something is..."

"Missing?"

"Yes!"

Quentin laughs at my obvious frustration and sighs, letting his hands drop to his sides and leaning back on them. "Maybe you're crazy," he says. "And maybe I'm crazy for taking Chem."

"Maybe. But that's never stopped me."

In all honesty, my senior year would have been insanely monotonous without meeting the Monarchy and all the ensuing chaos. Back in my hometown, the most excited I ever got was over books and my weeks rolled past predictably. Here, I've had pies shoved in my face, danced with my girlfriends, flagged down a motorcycle, rowed a boat around Haywood Lake. Here, I never know if someone wants to support me or run me over.