The Annual Theme Ceremony was only four hours, twenty-one minutes, and five seconds away. Breathe.
Jet nudged closer, his fur smelly and damp from the bath. A low rumble escaped his throat, and Peter wrapped him in his arms.
Instead of celebrating his semi-official invitation to join the Cryptologists, he’d lain awake most of the night, picturing the Wheel. The knot in his stomach doubling then tripling.
His mom had said her goodbyes and left for work before seven. Typical. Mr. Baldwin would be here any minute now to drive him and Ali to Kreisfirth for move-in day. Out the corner of the window, he could see their driveway across the street. Ali’s bright-yellow rain boots and green plastic frog poncho hopping from puddle to puddle as she and her dads loaded up the last of her belongings in the pouring rain.
He dragged a comb through his unruly hair. The knot in his stomach quadrupled.
He was convinced—if he spun the Wheel of Inquiry on his first day of seventh grade, he’d be tormented for an entire year.
With his luck, the Wheel would land on Pristine. Kreis Island would have to be kept spotless for a whole year. Sticky fingers, muddy uniforms, glitter, and gum popping all banned. Every clique would hate him—the Gamers, the Bruisers, the Poster Boards, and the Twirls. Perfect. Instead of “Peter-the-Brain,” they’d call him “Pristine Peter.” His archenemy, Maggie Nylo, Queen of the Twirls, would make sure of it.