Old Magic by Marianne Curly
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The new kid (not myself, the class seemed to ignore me rather well) was standing at the head of the class, looking as awkward as any new kid would look. Several of the girls in the class were eyeing him as if they found a new favorite flavor of Ice Cream. That probably came with being in such a small town. I would be eye balling any new guy walking into class, too, if I was held up in a small town on the top of a mountain all my life with the same faces to stare at day after day… I'm suddenly very glad that I don’t live in a small town like that
After about thirty seconds of watching the poor kid at the front of the class (who I learned was named Jarrod) fidget and look like a scared little bunny rabbit, I got bored and turned my attention to the assignment. It wasn’t difficult; I had done more complicated assignments in sophomore year at Pekin High.
A loud CRASH had me jumping from my seat – I hadn’t realized that one of the bigger, stronger, "muscle-bound monkey"s (the jock of the class, the head honcho, the all-muscle and no-brains manly-man of the class) had decided that he wanted to cause a scene. But once I did see what was going on, it had my head spinning. Before I knew it, the teacher was telling the kid to hand these ugly as sin glasses back to Jarrod, which he did, surprising, but what happened next had me at a loss for words. I watched as one of the girl’s in the class (Jessica, I think her name was) jumped and screamed as the beaker she was working with shattered – not because she dropped it, no. She hadn’t been touching it at the time. It exploded. Just simply… Exploded… I still don’t know what or how it happened.