The walk to Northwood Middle felt less daunting than he'd imagined, primarily because Katy, surprisingly, waited for him by the front door, a silent acknowledgment of their shared newness. As they approached the school, the usual morning chaos of students converging from all directions seemed less overwhelming. He spotted Jane and Michael by the bike racks, their heads bent together in conversation, and a small, genuine smile touched his lips.
"Hey!" Jake called out, a newfound confidence in his voice.
Jane looked up, her curly hair bouncing. "Jake! Morning! How was the walk?"
"Better than yesterday," he admitted, shrugging off his backpack. "Didn't trip over anything, which is a new record."
Michael grinned. "Good start. Ready for Mr. Henderson's math class? Heard he gives pop quizzes on Tuesdays."
Jake's stomach did a nervous flip. "Pop quizzes? Seriously? Ugh. Well, at least I have my trusty TI-84." He patted the side pocket of his backpack where he'd carefully placed it that morning, a small, comforting ritual.
The bell shrieked, a jarring sound that sent students scattering towards their first classes. "See you guys at lunch!" Jane called, already heading towards the main entrance.
Jake and Michael walked together, navigating the crowded hallway with a little more ease than Jake had managed alone yesterday. The familiar buzz of conversation and locker slams still felt loud, but less alienating with Michael beside him. They reached Room 104, Mr. Henderson's math class, just as the second bell rang.
Mr. Henderson, a tall, gaunt man with a perpetually serious expression and a penchant for perfectly sharpened pencils, stood at the front of the room. "Good morning, class. Please take your seats quickly. Today, we begin our unit on algebraic expressions. You will need your graphing calculators." His gaze swept over the room, pausing briefly on Jake.
Jake slid into his desk, pulling out his math textbook and a fresh notebook. He reached for the side pocket of his backpack, his fingers seeking the familiar cool plastic of his calculator. His brow furrowed. It wasn't there.
He checked the other side pocket. Empty. He unzipped the main compartment, rummaging through his books and binders, a rising sense of dread tightening his chest. He pulled out everything, scattering it across his desk in a desperate search. His eyes scanned the floor around his feet. Nothing.
His heart began to pound. He had just put it in there this morning. He remembered the exact moment, the feeling of the plastic against his fingertips. It had been there when he left his room. It couldn't be gone. Not again.
"Jake, do you have your calculator?" Mr. Henderson's voice, surprisingly close, made him jump. The teacher was standing by his desk, a patient but firm expression on his face.
"Um, yes, Mr. Henderson," Jake stammered, his cheeks flushing. "I… I just can't seem to find it. I know it's here somewhere." He continued to frantically pat down his backpack, hoping it would magically materialize.
A snicker echoed from the front row. Jake glanced up to see the same two boys from yesterday, Mark and Kevin, exchanging amused glances. Mark, a broad-shouldered kid with a perpetually sneering grin, nudged Kevin. "Looks like the new kid lost his brain too," he muttered, just loud enough for Jake to hear.
A wave of hot anger, mixed with profound embarrassment, washed over Jake. Of course. It had to be them. They were probably the ones who had laughed at him in the cafeteria yesterday. They must have seen him put it in his bag this morning. They must have snuck it out. It was a classic bully move.
"Is there a problem, Mark?" Mr. Henderson's voice was sharp, cutting through the snickers. Mark immediately looked away, feigning innocence.
"Jake, if you can't find it, you'll have to share with a classmate for today," Mr. Henderson instructed, his tone softening slightly. "Perhaps you should invest in a calculator case."
Jake nodded miserably, his gaze still fixed on Mark and Kevin. He knew it. They had taken it. He felt a surge of helpless frustration. He couldn't accuse them without proof, and even if he did, what good would it do? They'd just deny it, and he'd look even more like a dork.
The rest of the class was a blur. He awkwardly shared Michael's calculator, his mind preoccupied with the missing TI-84 and the simmering resentment towards Mark and Kevin. He kept glancing at their table, trying to catch them in the act, trying to see if they were hiding it. But they just seemed to be diligently taking notes, occasionally whispering to each other.
When the bell finally rang for the end of math class, Jake quickly packed his bag, his eyes still darting towards Mark and Kevin. As they stood up to leave, he noticed something. Mark pulled his own calculator out of his backpack – a sleek, silver model, completely different from Jake's old black one. Kevin also had his own, a bright blue one. Neither of them had Jake's.
Jake blinked. He watched them walk out of the classroom, their backpacks slung casually over their shoulders. They hadn't taken his calculator. They didn't even have one that looked like his.
A new, unsettling thought began to form in Jake's mind. If Mark and Kevin hadn't taken it, then who had? Or more accurately, what had happened to it? He had put it in his bag. He was certain. And it had been there when he left for school. Now it was gone. This wasn't just clumsiness. This wasn't just a coincidence. This was… something else.
He walked home in a daze, the mystery of the vanishing calculator gnawing at him. He was so preoccupied that he barely registered Katy's cheerful account of her day. He just wanted to get to his room, to think.
"Oh, Jake, honey, you left your calculator on your desk this morning," his mom said casually as he walked through the front door, heading straight for the stairs. "I put it back in your room for you."
Jake froze, one foot on the bottom step. He slowly turned around, his eyes wide. "What?" he croaked. "But… I had it! I put it in my backpack! I used it in math class!" The words tumbled out, confused and desperate.
His mom chuckled, shaking her head. "No, sweetie. It was right there on your desk, next to your history book. I saw it when I went in to open your curtains. You must have forgotten it."
Jake stared at her, his mind reeling. He had not forgotten it. He had put it in his bag. He had used it in class. And then it had vanished. And now, his mom was saying it was back in his room, as if it had never left. The pieces of the puzzle, the expanding bed, the appearing calculator, and now this vanishing-and-reappearing act, began to click into place, forming a picture that defied all logic.
He mumbled a quick "Thanks, Mom," and practically sprinted up the stairs, his heart hammering. He burst into his room. There, on his desk, next to his history book, sat his black TI-84 calculator, perfectly intact. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands. It felt real, solid, just like it should.
He sat on his bed, the calculator clutched in his hand, his mind racing. This wasn't a coincidence. This wasn't his parents. This was… something else. Something impossible. He thought about the bed, how he'd wished it was bigger, and it had grown. He thought about the calculator, how he'd wished it would appear, and it had. And now, he'd wished it was here, and it was.
A wild, exhilarating, terrifying thought began to form. Could it be? Could he… could he do something?
He looked around his room, his gaze settling on his empty bookshelf. He had always wanted a really cool, unique display piece. Something shiny. Something valuable.
He took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly. He closed his eyes, focusing all his will, all his desire, on a single, impossible thought.
"I wish," he whispered, his voice barely audible, "for a bucket… a bucket full of diamonds."
He opened his eyes.
On the floor, right in front of his bookshelf, sat a small, perfectly ordinary metal bucket. And spilling over its brim, catching the afternoon light in a thousand glittering facets, were hundreds, no, thousands, of sparkling, perfectly cut diamonds. They gleamed with an impossible brilliance, spilling onto his carpet like scattered starlight.
Jake stared, his jaw dropping. He reached out a trembling hand, picking up one of the gems. It was cool, hard, undeniably real. It was exactly what he had wished for.
He dropped the diamond back into the bucket with a clatter, scrambling back onto his bed, wide-eyed and stunned. His heart pounded so hard he thought it might burst through his chest. This wasn't a dream. This wasn't a coincidence. He was Jake, the dork. And he had just wished for diamonds, and they had appeared. He had powers. Actual, real, impossible powers. The thought was both terrifying and utterly, unbelievably exhilarating. His room, his sanctuary, had just become the stage for the impossible.