Sophie: A Story of Change

Offerings

Hours had passed since lunch and Heather McGill was still bewildered by the near-slip and her unexpected rescue, but she did her best to maintain her calm and confident composure. She stood facing the home-ec room's window, half lost in thought as she idly tapped out a response text to her mother. Hitting send, she dropped the phone back in her purse and flicked her head back to the view, her perfect blonde ponytail bouncing like a movie star's as she caught sight of a cute junior varsity basketball player outside, running across to the gym. Biting her lip, she grinned as she imagined teasing such a specimen with her practiced flirtatious look, mixing interest and revulsion to keep them guessing.

She had to admit that it had been a stroke of genius on the part of Heather S. to choose this room for the three to meet regularly. It was one of the largest classrooms at Cady-Stanton High, and in one wonderful corner it had a feature no other classroom had. Just behind Heather M. were a pair of easy chairs and a couch surrounding a coffee table, next to a bookshelf full of volumes on sewing and cooking. Glancing to the side, Heather M. smirked at the far end of the room where groups of students practiced cooking in a series of mini-kitchens. The rows of sewing machines on her side were currently abandoned, so she and her two minions, Heather S. and Heather K., seated behind her, had the entire half of the room to themselves.

The three had arranged to have a home-ec class at the same time this semester so that they could hang out here during class as well as after school. Normally, Heather M. would be in one of the easy chairs with Heather S. occupying the other, while Heather K. took the couch. She had once tried to get Heather K. to sit at her feet, but Heather S. had put a stop to her before she found out whether the girl would do it. Today, however, Heather M. was too restless to be sitting around.

In aftermath of the cafeteria incident earlier that day an unusual silence hung over the three. Heather S. tried to start a conversation a few times, but nobody felt like talking right now. Heather K. had just gotten out of gym class; the poor girl was even worse at physical activities than her companions, and laid limp on the couch. Heather M. idly inspected her nails for flaws, reflecting on the incident in the cafeteria; there was no way that kid would have been able to see the spilled juice, so how had he warned her? For a moment, she had suspected he had discovered some deliberate attempt to sabotage her, but had quickly discarded that theory. A juice spill was an accident, not a prank. It had to be something else, and Heather didn't know what. Heather McGill didn't like not knowing things.

It was Heather S. who finally broached the subject. "It was pretty weird what happened in the cafeteria, right? How'd that kid know?"

"I've been wondering that same thing," Heather M. admitted, turning to face the others. "It shouldn't have been possible for him to warn me. Not that I'm ungrateful, but I want to know how he knew."

"I asked around about him," said Heather S. "Thomas Swan. Apparently he also dodged a really close throw in dodgeball earlier today even though he's a wimp. I guess he's friends with the captain of the softball team, too; one of the other girls on the team says she likes to throw stuff at him and he always catches them. Maybe he should join the softball team."

Heather M. rolled her eyes. "Guys don't play softball, Heather."

"I know that," she pouted, "I was joking."

Heather K. sat up, apparently full of a sudden burst of energy. "Maybe he can see the future!" she exclaimed in excitement.

Heather S. gave her an incredulous look. "Seriously?" she asked. "You think he saw what was going to happen in Tarot cards or something? Too bad they just told him about a girl slipping instead of — oh, I don't know, The Well."