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headache,” I snapped.
    “Aww, let me guess. Your eighth retake of the SATs getting you down?” Jake made a mock sympathetic face. Around us, everyone else was huddled with their partners, calculators and diagrams in hand. My heart sank. If this thing was graded on a curve, we’d definitely be getting a C. Or worse. The look that I caught Anne giving me from across the room—a mixture of amusement and satisfaction—didn’t help.
    “First retake,” I said defensively, “so shut up.” I scooched my chair as far away from him as our lab table allowed. “And no,” I added, glaring, “I actually haven’t even had time tostudy for the SATs lately, since some of us have more to do than play with crayons all day.” Jake was actually holding a red pencil at the moment, not a crayon, but whatever.
    “You will regret that comment mightily when my brilliant artistic endeavors make me rich and famous,” he said calmly. “Or at least rich.” He twirled the pencil through his fingers and then quickly sketched a tongue-sticking-out face on my notebook.
    “Nobody gets rich off art,” I answered, snatching the notebook away from him. “Not until they’re dead.”
    “Wrong. My exhibit A is the entire company of Pixar, and my exhibit B is that guy who makes sculptures out of Legos, and I could name a bunch of other people who’ve turned artistic ability into mountains of cash. But you’re entitled to your factually incorrect opinion.” Jake yanked up the sleeve of the green and blue flannel he was wearing over a Transformers T-shirt and used a ballpoint pen to draw a sneaker-clad praying mantis on his arm. He then drew a thought bubble over the mantis and wrote “KATE SUCKS!” in it.
    I sighed deeply and closed my eyes. “Jake,” I said. “Can’t you just be nice to me? It would probably take less energy.”
    He cracked a hint of a smile. “I don’t know, I’m pretty energy-efficient.”
    “Please,” I said. “I’m having a rough day and you know it.”
    “Everyone who’s seen your busted-ass face knows it.”
    “Exactly. So be a pal, okay?” Mr. Piper had just dumped a cardboard box filled with random pieces of metal and what looked like the insides of a computer onto our lab table, and the prospect of actually building something out of it was freaking me out almost as much as the thought of going home to find Rina still there.
    Jake threw down his pen and waited a long beat. “I’ll consider it.”
    “That’s the best I’m gonna get from you today, huh?” I said wearily.
    “Today, yeah,” he answered, grinning at me. He picked a square of metal out of the cardboard box. “Do you care if I decorate the outside of our robot when we’re done?”
    “Oooh. Did you just admit you’re going to help me build it?”
    He paused slightly. “Yes.”
    “Oh my God, then yeah, go ahead, decorate it however the hell you want.”
    Jake got out a black Sharpie and promptly drew boobs on the piece of metal he was holding.
    Fantastic.

CHAPTER SIX
    I DRUMMED MY FINGERS NERVOUSLY ON THE steering wheel as I waited for a red light to change on my way home from school. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to get home quickly, see that Rina wasn’t there, and be relieved that it was all a bad dream, or get home slowly in case she was there. Why couldn’t the weird thing in my life be a fairy godmother, or the sudden acquisition of magical powers? Either of those would be way more convenient.
    The light turned green just as my phone beeped with a text message. “Dammit,” I muttered, easing the car past a small patch of ice on the street. I waited until I got to the next red light, then dug in my bag for the phone. The text was from Paul and read, Where r u?
    Oops. Clearly not at basketball practice.
    The light turned green and I stepped on the gas, then hit the speakerphone button and called Paul back.
    “Hey, this is Paul. Leave a message, thanks.” Beep .
    “Hey!” I said, my voice way too high and