High School Magical

Chapter 2

The star letters flare and disappear. My eyes burn. I'm quite sure I saw my name up there. I turn my gaze toward the sea and blink a few times. As though branded in my mind like the hot coals of the bonfire, the shining, sparkling letters of my name written against the backdrop of night remain. M-A-I-J-A.

When I glance back toward the group, the guy with the top hat and gray eyes stands off to the side. The firelight illuminates his sharp edges. His eyes are as deep as the sea on a cloudy day, clear and cold, intriguing and sad. They invite me to wonder, but I look away.

I tell myself to shake it off: the stars, the boy, the bittersweet feeling. Too many S'mores.

Chelsea, Keiko, and Reggie have moved on to talking about which teachers they're hoping not to get. They gossip about scandals and schedules, assignments and advice on who and what to avoid.

"If we stay up until midnight we can get our schedules on the portal," Reggie says.

"I heard they're not releasing them until the moment school starts," Chelsea counters.

"Then how will we know—"

"Who is that staring at you, Maija?" Keiko asks.

Chelsea flips her hair and says, "Oh, that's the new guy. One-half of the brothers Thorne that moved into the old house at the end of Skerry Street.

"The haunted one?" Keiko scoots closer to Reggie.

Chelsea dismisses this. "I hear they're twins."

"Do they both wear—?"

"Jaunty top hats?" Chelsea asks. "Personally, I think it's cool."

"Says the girl with bright pink hair."

Reggie says, "Sorry, Keiks, I will not put one of those on for you."

We all laugh because we know he'd do anything for her, including wearing a top hat, a beret, or grow his hair out—it's shaved at the moment.

"However, I will dance with you," he says, busting his best moves while Keiko starts shimmying beside him.

"He is staring at you, Maija," Chelsea adds as she starts to dance. "He's like a cross between a hot, young Mr. Darcy and Edward from Twilight. Also very Edwardian in that historical romance kind of way." She laughs as she twirls and kicks up the sand. I start dancing as she continues to talk about how our love story could be legendary, given his choice of clothing and my penchant for historical romance.

I try to hush her as he strides over. Subtly is certainly not her thing.

Even though we're standing on the uneven sand, he's easily a head taller than I am. All pale angles like one of my dad's architecture models.

He says, "I'm JJ Thorne. It's nice to meet you, Maija."

"Do I know you?" I ask.

His eyes don't waver from me. It's as though his gaze stretches through time, seeking me, reaching me, seeing my past, and scanning my future. I feel vulnerable and yet I can't look away.

"I'm Chelsea," she says, breaking the spell that weaves itself between us. "You pronounced her name correctly. Not Maja or My-ay-ja. Maija. Rhymes with playa like the beach or fiyah, like fire," she says, gesturing. "Like you'd say if you're from Boston. Are you from Boston?"

I elbow her to stop rambling. Plus, I hadn't even said my name.

"I am not from Boston. Lovely city if you like that sort of thing." His voice is proper, slightly condescending, and British. Chelsea practically swoons.