Isaac sits with us again at dinner. Supper. Whatever you call it. He seems to really get along well with Judy, which makes me somewhat suspicious. I’ll keep a close eye on him.
I won’t deny Judy is nice, but she’s extremely shy. She keeps to herself. That plus her quietness and her washed out eyes always gives me the suspicion that something’s off about her.
Jill always tells me to cut Judy some slack and that the shy girl only had too many memories, that her life before the Academy was painful.
Uh-huh, sure. I bet it’s Candy Land compared to mine.
I was abo-
“Anna?” Nora slides her tray into the spot beside me. “Yes or no?” She’s looking at me, and she expects an answer.
“What? Sure,” I have no idea what I’ve just agreed to.
A smile spreads across my friend’s ace. “Really?”
I shrug. “Sure. Really.”
“Hmm…” Isaac murmurs. He holds up a Popsicle stick painted with twelve small symbols. THE GIZMO, it reads. “There was a popsicle stick in my pocket.”
“Get rid of it!” Tiffany whisper-shouts.
Tom looks up at the head table. “Too late,” he states.
Orwell and Ella Mae stand up and cup their hands to their mouths.
“Here it comes,” Will says.
“Check your pockets, whoops, too late, who’s got The Gizmo?” Orwell and Ella Mae search the cafeteria expectantly.
Reconition washes over Isaac’s face. “Oh,” he says quietly, “is this The Gizmo?”
Patrick looks over at him with his piercing blue eyes. “No, it’s Orwell’s ferret – yes, it’s The Gizmo!”
Sam blinks. “Does Orwell have a ferret?”
Everyone decides that it’s in their best interests to not find out.
“So… what do I do?” Isaac holds up the Popsicle stick.
I sigh. “Isaac? You see all those things over there?” I point to the wall that coincidentally the farthest away from our table. Mounted on that wall are twelve figures: a stuffed sheep head, a stuffed bull head, two old twin dolls, a crab claw, a stuffed lion head, an ancient looking large Barbie, an old-fashioned scale corrupted with rust, a scorpion, a centaur replica, a stuffed goat head, a brick, and a mounted trophy fish.
Isaac squints at them. “Where did you get all those? Are they real? Is Orwell, like, really into taxidermy or something?”
“Um…” I mumble awkwardly. “Let’s just forget you ever said that.”
“Let’s,” Alex agrees.
Jill nods. “Because none of us really needed an image of Orwell stuffing a lion.”
Our table falls quiet for a moment, each Child contemplating the idea of Orwell being a taxidermist.
“I’m going to have nightmares for weeks,” Ivy says under her breath.
“Who’s got The Gizmo?” Orwell and Ella Mae stand with their hands on their hips, waiting for someone to come forward.
“Okay, Isaac,” I say, “you’re a Pisces, right?”
He nods and laughter emerges from our table of twelve.
Judy grins. “You have to kiss the fish!”
“I… what? Okay?” He looks at Judy as if she has three heads.
“Isaac, you have to go to Orwell, give him The Gizmo, and kiss the fish,” I say. “if you ever have The Gizmo at suppertime you have to kiss your sign.”
“Great,” Isaac shakes his mop of birdseed hair as we watch him walk up to Orwell and hand the headmaster the Popsicle stick with a grim look on his face. He walks up to the large trophy bass on;ly to glance back at out table and shoot us a Seriously? Look.
Patrick shakes his head. “Newbie.”
“KISS IT!” Sam shouts. He starts to hit his hands against the table and the cafeteria erupts into a chant.
“KISS IT! KISS IT! KISS IT!”
Isaac goes pink, but he squeezes his eyes shut and quickly pecks the side of the fish.
The room explodes into applause and cheers, just like it does every night for the unlucky Child who receives the infamous Gizmo.
“This school is weird,” Isaac declares as he sits back down.
“Well, yeah, what do you expect? Anna goes here,” Tom smirks at me and I kick him under the table.
“It’s rarely the same kid in a year, Isaac,” Judy says, “don’t worry.”
“Unless Orwell and Ella Mae hate you,” Will points out. “Remember that time Sam had it for four days in a row?”
Sam laughs. “That was great. Oh! But if you realize you have it before supper, you can pass it on to someone else. That’s how I got rid of it. Gave it to this idiot.” He gestures to me.
I shrug as I redo my thick pigtails. “At least the crab doesn’t have a mouth.”
Isaac glances down at the table. “I just lost all of my dignity. And my man points.”
“Look on the bright side!” Ivy exclaims. “You didn’t really have that much of either!”
