Mal was glad they had left their backpack, freshly topped off with a ten-stack of evidence, in their History classroom. It would have been a twenty-dollar loss to have those copies confiscated. That little twinge of anger flared again as they realized this.
“Understood,” said Emerson, but her stiff grin said something else.
“Yes, understood,” echoed Mal—and then, after a quick breath and before they could really think about it, they added,“but if wehadbeen doing something like that, it would only have been because ourschool-sanctioned club or publicationhad its funding stripped, and so it would be kind of the worst to also take away our ability to fund a not-school-sanctioned alternative.”
Beside them, Emerson made a little snorty sound.
“Is there something else you’d like to tell me, Mx. Flowers?” Dr. Murphy raised her eyebrow.
“No,” said Mal, their anger settling into a hot, glowing ember in their belly. “I think that’s all.”
“Wonderful.” Dr. Murphy smiled, a tired look in her eyes. “Now, you two can return to class, and I can call your parents to let them know what we discussed.”
The ember in Mal’s belly turned to ash.
But because Mal had not actually beencaughtdoing anything against the rules, onlysuspectedof it—and because they had not been punished by the school, only warned—their parents were at a loss as to what to do with them. Their mom was ready to forbid them from going to the Haus for the rest of the month, but their dad, home earlier than usual after a rare opening shift, talked her down to just grounding Mal for the weekend.
Though it meant they’d miss the December issue planning-slash-hangout, Mal would rather sit out a weekend than a month. Plus, their weekend wasn’t entirely isolated; Parker and Nylan came by for a sneaky visit during Mal’s break from their Saturday shift at work—andbrought them a bubble tea from Parker’s favorite coffee place. (They had been right about how good they were.) When Mal got off, the two even cameback to give them a ride to Maddie’s game, which brought with it an excitement all its own.
There was a rumor that a scout from the University of Kentucky was there today. Fresh off their shift at Dollar City, Mal felt mostly like a goblin—tired, overstimulated, more than a little in need of a shower—but they kept one dark-circled eye on the stands and the other on the field. Though they couldn’t be sure if a scout actuallywasthere—rumors like this always started around this time of year—Mal was sure that if there was, Maddie had made an impression by scoring two of the four goals to win the game. When their mom came to pick them up after, she had been convinced too—and was so fired up that she took them all out to dinner at a burger place on 7th Street as a reward.
As Mal sat swirling the dregs of their milkshake around the bottom of their glass, they wondered what was going on a few short blocks away at the Haus. Nylan and Parker had said they were headed over, and at this time of evening Emerson probably was too. Though it was nice to have a burger that wasn’t from the freezer at home, Mal would have traded it to be there instead.
That feeling of missing out sat heavy in their chest as they sat on the sofa on Sunday, eating fancy eggs and trying to catch up on English readings with Maddie. Not even sneaking extra time before dinner playing in the backyard with their favorite street cat, a white-and-tabby kitten they had named Gelato, could quite dislodge the feeling that Mal should be Somewhere Else.
And so on Monday, after school, it felt like coming homewhen Mal arrived at the Haus on 3rd Street. They stopped at the coffee bar and ordered a black drip, like always. But before Sam could fill a cardboard cup for them, Sai came around the corner and stopped them.
“Mal’s due for an upgrade, I think,” he said, giving Mal a wink. He ducked behind the bar and grabbed a mug off one of the regular’s hooks. It was only when he handed it to them that they realized it was their catfinated mug.
Mal went very still, barely even breathing.
“Please make sure to wash yours more than Emerson does hers,” he said, patting Mal’s shoulder.
And just like that, Mal was a regular.
After a few calming breaths and a high five from Sam, Mal headed back to the Zine Lab, their mug full in their hands and their heart full in their chest. Emerson was already at the editors’ desk, leaned back in her rolling chair and flicking rolled-up Post-it notes at Kodi, who held her fingers up like a goal. When Emerson made one in, Parker and Nylan (sitting quite close together, Mal noticed) both cheered.
Slowly, the rest of the staff filtered in—including Theodora, a junior at Holmes whom Kodi had connected with at the Haint History Festival. When she introduced herself and added that her special interest was sharks, Mal knew they were in good company.
“We’re growing,” Emerson whispered to them as they gathered their things at the editors’ desk. Her giddy excitement tickled Mal’s ear, making them smile. “I’m so proud of us.”
“Yeah,” Mal said, squeezing Emerson’s hand before they reached for their planner. “I am too.”
And then they stood and turned to the worktable, which was now so full it was nearly overcrowded.
“Okay, if you’re all ready,” Mal said—and to their surprise, the bustling room quieted. A nervousness fluttered in their chest, but equally surprisingly, it didn’t feelbad. Emerson wheeled her chair into place beside them, running her finger over the side seam of Mal’s jeans: a gentle, grounding touch. “I’m up to date on e-mails now. I love ‘Creating Our Futures’ as the theme for the December issue.”
“It’s going to beepic,” Emerson said beside them.
“Sorry—before you get going, can I interrupt?”
Mal’s eyes flashed toward the source of the noise. In the room’s open entryway, Sam stood leaning one hip against the doorframe.
“You literally have the worst timing ever, Sam,” Emerson huffed.
“It’s good news, I promise,” they were quick to reply. Mal raised an eyebrow. They hadn’t gotten to tell Emerson about their regular hook yet and didn’t want Sam to ruin the surprise.
“I wanted to share before you all got going in here and I derailed you!” Sam came into the room and held out their phone to the nearest staffers—Stella and Alex, who sat together at the opposite end of the table. As Stella squinted at the screen, Sam said, “I think y’all are a little famous.”
