The instructions were precise:

         Two dragon eyes

          A generous pinch of fairy mist

          Three blasts of demon flame

          A dropper-full of thieves' oil

          Sliver of a blood moon

          A liar's silver tongue

          The lesser half of a broken wishbone

          An ounce of wolfsbane

          Four drops of crone's tears.

          One tablespoon dehydrated unicorn blood.

Then how did it all go so wrong? Some say it was greed. Others say love. But aren't we all greedy when it comes to love?

"Hey, Miles," I whispered. The lights were dimmed in the classroom because we were watching the second half of a movie about some geniuses who hacked into the web setting off global chaos.

#Goals!

Is it my fault I became a hacker with this kind of educational exposure? This wasn't our first hacking movie either. And it wouldn't be the last.

Pale, sweet Miss Piltz had a dark side.

Same as me.

She also had recently been shopping at Dad's store. From the ceiling hung a six-foot plastic spider with glowy green eyes, on a massive gossamer web. Naturally, the one decoration the computer teacher displayed involved a web.

"Hmm?" Miles grunted. He hadn't stopped looking at Tyra the whole time. Almost as if he was under some weird spell. Wait. Was that drool coming out of the corner of his mouth? Gross!

Miles and I had talked about the sanitation mess for weeks, especially after the odor from the school dumpsters drew in the local rat population like an aromatic a Pied Piper. It was a mystery why the adults hadn't taken care of the problem. Lots of arguing in town council meetings, but no action.

Typical!

Which left it to me.

Miles had to be impressed.

Right?

"I did it," I said, unable to contain the pride in my voice.

"Shhh," he said, waving me away as if I was nothing more than a gnat buzzing around his head. "This is the best part of the movie."

"It's just meaningless graphics of computer code," I scoffed. "Look, I hacked the sanitation department and fixed the schedule," I said. He probably hadn't understood me the first time. This. Was. A. Big. Deal.

Did I mention the rats?

"Mmmm," Miles said, not even turning to look at me. He dragged his fingers through his long dark hair, releasing the coconut scent of his shampoo.

"I did the hack," I said, using as few words as possible. That way, he couldn't misunderstand.

No reply.

Had all my work been for nothing? Worse than nothing. It almost got me flattened by a garbage truck this morning.

Talk about a mortifying way to die!

Imagine the headline: "Area Girl Killed by Irony in Garbage Truck Incident."

I crossed my arms over my chest and stuck out my fleecy horse's legs, my red Chucks looking absolutely ridiculous with the tan fleece. In addition, I did my best to ignore Miles and his coconut shampoo and the way his and Tyra's hands got closer and closer on the desk as the movie went on.

I threw up a little in my mouth.

Tugged down the fleece at my neck. Fleece is really not a breathable fabric. Maybe I should ask Miss Piltz to open a window.

As the credits rolled, Ms. Piltz flicked on the lights. I barely had time to wipe away the single tear that had formed in the corner of my right eye. No, the movie didn't have a sad ending for the hackers. Fortunately, they got away with it. The tear must've been from dust. Or adjusting to the crackly, eye-piercing fluorescent lights.

Someone rat-a-tatted on the door. "That must be the Candygrams! Come in!" Miss Piltz sang out. I got the feeling like me, Miss Piltz was the sort of person who never got a Candygram in high school, and the whole reason she became a teacher was to have a do-over of her painful teen years.

A thick lump of sympathy formed in my throat.

Poor Miss Piltz.

The classroom door squeaked open, and the pastel-clad student council duo, Delia Perez and Cilla Herman, bounced into the room like flowers, carrying a cardboard box, blinged to the hilt with "Candygrams!" spelled out in orange sequins. They breezed past the chalkboard, sending up whorls of dust mixed with gardenia cologne.

Miss Piltz clapped her hands. "Welcome, ladies," she said, smiling.

I slumped in my chair, trying my best to disappear. But, hey, why disappear theoretically when you can do it for real? I stuck my fleece-covered arm into the air. Miss Piltz acknowledged me with a nod. "May I please use the restroom?"

"Surely you can wait a few moments till the bell, Rowen. You won't want to miss out on the Candygrams." She winked at me. Why did she wink? Did she know something I didn't? She was in Dad's store recently to buy the spider. Was I just being paranoid?

Or was I justifiably paranoid?

Also, is it possible to be justifiably paranoid?

"Proceed, ladies," Miss Piltz said with a theatrical sweep of her arm.

I crossed my legs to showcase my deep suffering.

Delia giggled. "Thanks, Miss Piltz. Okay. First, we want to thank everyone who bought a Halloween Candygram. This was our biggest fundraising drive yet!" She shook the box, grinning so hard, her face was more dimple than cheek. She flipped open the box and held it out to Cilla, who fished out the first candygram. It was an orange skull-shaped lollipop with a card cut out like a pumpkin from orange construction paper. They had tied together the card and candy with curled orange and black ribbons.

"Gemma Stones," Cilla called out, which was kind of stupid because Coffin Ridge High is a small school where everyone knew everyone.

Gemma, sitting on my right, raised her hand, and Cilla presented her with the candygram. Once Gemma had opened the card and silently read the message came the obligatory shouts of "who's it from?"

Gemma laughed and said, "you know who!" because of course, we all did. Cilla called the next name.

One by one, lucky students, students who had friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, or friend-adjacent associates, raised hands, and Cilla delivered their Candygrams—the lollipops varied—ghosts, skulls, bats, spiders, and zombies.

Though the green zombies looked the tastiest, I pretended not to care. But in the pit of my belly, each time Cilla extracted a candygram from the box, before the name was called, I had an appalling tinge of hope coiling inside me. Maybe, just maybe, my name would be called.

"Tyra Underhill," Cilla chirped.

I gasped, and everyone, including Tyra, turned and looked at me.

Seriously?

That was a completely warranted gasp.

The girl had been at Coffin Ridge High for like ten minutes, and she got a Candygram?

Tyra flashed me that smile that wasn't a smile and raised her delicate fairy-tale princess hand, gauzy pink fabric sleeves billowing. Not wanting eternal yoga detention, I tightened my fists, digging my fingernails hard into my palms to keep myself from breaking her slim fingers.

A loud fluttering sound reverberated inside my head. It was as if a million panicked moths were trying to escape. No one else seemed to notice.

Cilla handed over the candygram. "Hey, Tyra, you coming to spring cheerleading tryouts after school?"

"I wish," Tyra said in her voice that sounded like wind chimes on a summer breeze. "I have detention because of this one." She cocked her head in my direction, Miles following the gesture. Frowning at me.

"I didn't..." I defended myself, but Miss Piltz shushed me. I slid even lower in my seat. It was a miracle I hadn't fallen out of the chair by now.

Miles gently elbowed Tyra in the arm. "Open it," he murmured, all deep and sexy.

"Oh. Who could it possibly be from?" Tyra tittered as if she already knew, and this was some kind of an inside joke between them.

No, no, no, no.

Please don't let it be from Miles.

"Read the card," he urged.

"Okay," she said, pulling apart the orange construction paper pumpkin, and angling it toward me. I didn't want to read it. I wanted to pretend this wasn't happening, but of course, I did.

And there it was in black and orange: TO TYRA. LOVE, MILES.

Gross!

They hugged.

Double gross.

Everyone applauded.

Triple gross.

"Why not a standing ovation?" I muttered. My foot jerked under the table, and I barely managed not to kick Tyra into the next county.

"Good idea," Gemma Stones said and stood. The rest of the class followed her lead like a bunch of stupid sheep. I slumped lower.

I had worn my second-best jeans for this dude!

I hacked into the sanitation system for him!

I mean, I totally did it for the safety of the town.

And him.

Anyway, this is my reward?

They read off more names, but at this point, they were a blur.

I spent the rest of the time silently reciting my new mantra.

No catastrophes before noon. No catastrophes before noon.

But Tyra kept looking over at me with a strange expression. Like she was waiting for me to do something, and I was too slow and stupid to figure out what it was. After a while, this got annoying, and I worked hard trying not to picture that giant spider over her head coming to life and snatching her into its web to store her for a late-afternoon snack, even if it was kind of a heartwarming image.

Violence solved nothing.

I told myself.

Even with my attempt at a calming vibe, the moths got louder. Electricity crackled in the air.

The Candygram thing couldn't go on forever. It would end. I would go to my next class, eat lunch, go to yoga, and eventually, this awful day would end.

"I think that's it," Delia said, sealing my fate as a still Candygramless individual. But at least it was over. But then, Delia turned the box upside-down and another Candygram fell out. Tyra leaped up, stuck out her arm, and caught it with ninja-level reflexes. "Thank you, Tyra. Well, it seems we have one more," Delia cooed.

Cilla wrinkled her brow and gave the Candygram a sideways glance, before shrugging her shoulders. "So, who will be the lucky recipient?" She drew it out like we were on American Idol about to go into a commercial break. This candy differed from the rest. A wart-chinned, pointy-hat-topped witch. "And the last Candygram goes to... Rowan Keckilpenny-Brown."

My heart stopped. The world stopped. Cilla held out the Candygram; but I sat frozen, unable to take it from her. She waved it in my face, then gave up and dropped it on my desk. "Uh, thanks," I managed.

"Who's it from?" said multiple students in astonished tones. As I said, small school; everyone knew my Candygram history.

Who would send me a Candygram?

"Bye, everyone, and thanks again," Delia said, pushing open the classroom door. She and Cilla danced out of the room, waving goodbye, leaving behind their floral scent, dozens of Candygrams, and one very perplexed Candygram recipient.

"Thank you, ladies," Miss Piltz said as the door swung closed.

"Open it," Tyra urged.

"It's probably from her parents," someone speculated. It was like a fist crushing my heart, but I'd been thinking the same thing.

"I'll bet she sent it to herself," someone suggested.

Oh, no! What if it was from my dads?

Curiosity burned in my chest, but there was no way I was opening it in front of everyone. Because chances were that it was from my parents, and that would be the end of me for real.

We'd have to move from Coffin Ridge forever. Start a new life. Dad would have to open a new shoppe. Papa could just transfer IRS offices, so that wouldn't be so bad for him. And maybe I could convince them to home-school me. Tell them I'm having "ideas" about the opposite sex, and they shouldn't allow me in a room with boys. Although my dads were so darned progressive, that argument probably wouldn't work. They'd say something New Agey and California-y like "those are normal healthy feelings, Rowen. Blah, blah, blah."

Point is, I would have to start a whole new life.

Get to start a whole new life.

"Is it from a boy?" Gemma said.

"I don't know who it's from," I said flatly, stuffing the Candygram in the outer pocket of my backpack, hoping that would be the end of it. But Gemma snatched it away.

"Hey! Give that back," I said, stretching across the desk to grab it back. The volume of moth wings beating in my ear got worse. An unbearable heat rushed across my skin, and sweat trickled down my back.

"Gemma!" Miss Piltz said. "Please return Rowan her property."

Gemma threw it down in front of me. "Whatever."

Then Tyra leaned across Miles, who had a too-big, loopy grin, like a cat who'd gotten into the catnip. Tyra swiped my Candygram before I could stop her. She even cackled. Who did that? She sounded like someone who'd done extensive cackling training with the Wicked Witch of the West.  

My head, toes, eyes, and fingertips throbbed with heat. The moth's wings pounded so hard, they blocked out all other sounds. The darkness inside of me wanted out. I know this is crazy talk. No one, except maybe a comic book character, had a physical manifestation of darkness waiting to be unleashed into the world, but that was how it felt, okay? I forced myself to look up at the ceiling and recite my mantra, rather than seethe directly at Tyra and Miles. The spider overhead began to swing.

Maybe it would come to life and eat her! It could happen.

Almost in slow motion, Miles pushed Tyra to the floor just as the spider snapped off its wires and dropped, crashing into the spot Tyra had occupied a second earlier. She didn't seem upset. She looked at me, eyes squinting, forehead creased, head cocked as if I was a puzzle that needed solving. Like I'd grown an extra pair of legs, and she couldn't figure out how.

Miss Piltz's mouth was moving. But I couldn't make out the words. She seemed pretty mad at Miles and Tyra.

The bell rang. I could hear again. The moths were gone. I unzipped the main section of the backpack, grabbed my Candygram, and pushed it to the bottom. And without even waiting to be excused, I fled the classroom like a two-legged racehorse.

Yay! You read yet another chapter of It Isn't Easy Being Queen. This makes you my favorite person in the universe! Thank you so much for reading, voting, commenting, and existing!

I'm dedicating this chapter to AvaViolet, who is a dear friend. I met her in human person today, and she was just as lovely, kind, and fun as I knew she would be. I'm sure you're familiar with her amazing stories, but if not, I suggest you head over to her profile immediately and read them all.  You will be so happy you did.

I told her I was having trouble with this chapter and she told me I'd figure it out. That I always do. And she was right. I did.  Having a friend believe in you makes all the difference.