1. Old School Weird things had a tendency of happening to Olive Cobin Zang, but this morning was weirder than most. First, her InstaFriends social media account had vanished entirely--never mind that she had fewer than five followers. Then, when she opened her locker to grab her books before class, all traces that Olive had ever been there had been removed, including her Meggie comics and flower power stickers. And at the school library, when Olive tried to apologize for her overdue library books, she learned that all the fines had been wiped clean. By the time Olive reached second period, she was so deep in thought that at first she didn''t notice the black cat perched on the classroom''s window ledge. Unlike her classmates, who never paid any attention to her, the cat was staring right at Olive. When she finally noticed it, it seemed to wink at her before running away.
Olive watched the cat disappear, wishing she could run away, too. She hated school. A lot. Turning to the front of the room, Olive heard the school''s PA system crackle. Then a tinny voice said, "Olive Cobin Zang"--Olive tried not to panic--"please report to Principal Gates''s office immediately." Instantly, prying eyes were on her. She felt her face flush red. Often overlooked, Olive did not long for this sort of attention.
As she began to gather her books, the teacher shook her head. "Leave those. You won''t be needing them anymore." Olive bolted from the classroom, her heart racing. The last time she was called out of class, a mere month earlier, she had been informed that her beloved grandmother Mimi was gone. Who would it be this time? Upon entering the principal''s office, she saw her mother seated across from Principal Gates. Olive was instantly relieved--then panicked. "Is it Dad?" Her brown eyes began to fill with tears.
Olive''s mother, Dr. Cobin Zang, arched an eyebrow and handed her a tissue. As usual, she looked perfectly polished, often making her daughter feel like a "before" photo in a fashion magazine. "Hello to you, too," Dr. Cobin Zang said gently. "Your father is fine." "Then . ," Olive sputtered.
"Then why are you here?" It wasn''t even 10:30 a.m. She paused to note that her mother''s new short haircut made her look stylish and chic, two words that were never used to describe Olive. Dr. Cobin Zang offered Principal Gates a perfunctory smile before turning back to her daughter. "I''m taking you out of school," her mother said. Principal Gates yawned, flipped open a magazine, and stuck his nose in the pages. Still holding the tissue, Olive asked hopefully, "For the day?" "Yes .
," Dr. Cobin Zang said cautiously, "and then some." Her mother bit her lip the way she did when she suddenly remembered something Olive-related. "I meant to tell you yesterday, but I got swamped." Now that Olive knew no one had perished, she could feel her heartbeat returning to normal. Maybe they were going on a girls'' day? That''s what Mimi had called it when she''d let Olive cut school so they could go to the movies or the mall. On occasion, Olive even did this on her own, though she usually ended up at the library. Principal Gates squinted at Olive over his magazine.
"You are Olive . ?" When the principal couldn''t remember her last name, Olive could feel herself shrinking. Not literally, of course, but in the oh-here-we-go-again-I-feel-invisible sort of way. Olive tamped down her discomfort. Invisibility had its benefits, she was quick to remind herself. Say assassins were chasing you, or a teacher asked about cell homeostasis and you hadn''t done your homework--if they couldn''t see you, you were safe from embarrassment or death, which often felt like the same thing. Still holding his magazine in one hand, Principal Gates clicked through his computer with the other. His unkempt black hair stuck up in two places, reminding Olive of the cat from second period.
"This is odd, but we have no record of you. Did you say you were a student here?" Olive began to deflate like a tire with a slow leak. "I''ve been a student here since kindergarten." She pushed her student ID across the desk as proof. Principal Gates examined the dented plastic card. "Per this, you''re Olive Cobin Zang, age twelve?" "She''s not twelve, she''s eleven," Dr. Cobin Zang said without looking up. She was now furiously tapping on her cell phone.
Olive winced. "Actually, I am twelve." Her mother stopped mid-text and studied Olive. "When did that happen?" "Same time as last year," Olive muttered. She eyed her mother''s phone. Even though everyone at her school had a cell phone, she could never bring herself to ask her parents for one. Besides, who would she call? It wasn''t as if there was ever an emergency, anyway. Olive''s life was so boring.
"Well then!" Dr. Cobin Zang straightened the lapels of her gray wool suit. "We shall have a belated birthday celebration when your father and I return." When your father and I return. How many times had Olive heard that before? She pretended to be pleased about the celebration, but she knew they''d forget. They always did. She had no doubt that her parents loved her. Still, they never hesitated to go on their endless business trips.
They always brought her back a snow globe, as if this made up for leaving. Olive tried to convince herself that a missed birthday wasn''t that important. After all, her grandmother Mimi had said, "I wouldn''t mind skipping a few birthdays now and then!" Suddenly Olive was hit by a discomforting thought. In her parents'' eyes, maybe the thing that wasn''t important . was her. She was barely three months old the first time her mother and father had left her in the care of Mimi. "You were always very adaptable," her parents would say with pride. "You never cried.
" It was no wonder Olive loved the Meggie & Her Fun Family comic books. She dreamed of uproarious family adventures by day and home-cooked meals every night. Meggie''s mother and father never went on business trips. If Olive had learned to cry, would her parents have stayed home more? Principal Gates set his magazine down. The headline--"GLORIOUS DAME GLORIA!"--blared merrily up at Olive. The cover showed an older woman with unnaturally smooth skin, wearing an overflow of snazzy jewels on her neck, ears, wrists, and fingers. But it was the small black cat brooch with glittery green eyes on Dame Gloria''s gown that caught Olive''s eye. "Well!" Principal Gates declared.
"Bon voyage to you, Oliver Corbin Zing!" He hoisted his mug in the air, spilling coffee all over Dame Gloria. "Olive Cobin Zang," Olive and her mother corrected him. Both looked at each other, startled but pleased to be in sync for a change. Was this a mother-daughter bonding moment? Olive wondered. Meggie and her mother had one at least every five pages. "Where will you be going?" Principal Gates mopped up the coffee from the magazine. Dame Gloria''s face was starting to wrinkle. Dr.
Cobin Zang beamed. "Olive will be attending the acclaimed Reforming Arts School near San Francisco," she announced proudly. Principal Gates looked stunned. "The prison?!" Olive tried to speak, but no sound came out. "Former prison," Dr. Cobin Zang said firmly. "They haven''t had a prisoner there for years." 2.
Rash? "Prison?" Olive asked her mother as they got in the car. Her throat was suddenly dry. "I''m going to prison?" she finally managed to ask. Was Olive being punished because she repeatedly freed the neighbor''s rabbits from their overcrowded pen? Or maybe it was because she broke into that abandoned haunted cottage to try to meet a ghost. All right, maybe Olive had bent a few rules over the years. Invisibility had its benefits, and she wasn''t about to let them go to waste. Yet she was sure she had never gotten caught. Dr.
Cobin Zang''s car backed out of the school parking lot, leaving skid marks in their wake. "You''re not going to prison," she said brightly. "You''re going to RASCH. You''ll love it!" "Rash?" Last year, Olive had gotten a rash from her class nature field trip. One of the popular girls, Kelsey Lawrence, had pointed at a patch of poison ivy and said, "If you want to be my friend, touch that plant." The horrible itch lasted days longer than Olive''s friendship with Kelsey, who later declared, "I don''t hang around with misfits." "R-A-S-C-H, RASCH," her mother enunciated, though to Olive it sounded exactly the same as "rash." "It''s the original Reforming Arts School, a top-tier boarding academy.
Very prestigious, on its own quaint little island. You could learn how to swim!" Olive felt herself gasping for air as fear washed over her. They both knew what had happened the last time she tried to swim, or had her mother forgotten that, too? She had seemed scattered lately. "So, I''m being shipped off to a boarding school?" Olive could hear the distress in her own voice. Not that she was sad to leave her school, where she had never fit in, anyway. But at least there she knew what to expect--the boring classes, the bullies, the subpar cafeteria lunches. All Olive knew about boarding schools involved wizards, flying brooms, and house elves, but those were only in books. "Why--?" she starte.