Note: I actually did use a magic 8-ball in the writing of this story.The alarm clock went off with a shrill beep, and Abby turned it off with a groan. After forcing herself through the motions of taking a shower and brushing her teeth and hair, she reached for the smooth black ball that sat on her dresser. Picking it up, she ran her fingers over the “8”, feeling the cool silky surface beneath her fingertips. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, and muttered, “Should I wear my blue shirt today?”
Quickly, she turned it over and gazed into the blue liquid that sloshed softly against the window. Abby held her breath with anticipation as she made out the words: Outlook not so good.
She nodded. It was right, as always. She would look ridiculous in that shirt.
“Should I wear my red one?” she asked.
My sources say no, the ball replied.
Abby went through several different colors until the ball chose white. After she got dressed, she went downstairs to the kitchen and opened the cabinet. “Should I eat Apple Jacks today?”
Most likely, answered the ball.
She took that as a yes and quickly ate her breakfast, and then set off for school. When she arrived there, Abby realized that she still had ten minutes before school started. Her best friend had moved away a year before, and she was still treated as an outcast by the student body. Feeling lost, she took the magic 8-ball out of her pocket. “Should I start a conversation with somebody?” she whispered.
It is certain, the ball replied.
Abby looked around the commons area. Everyone was clustered in small tight groups, impenetrable from the outside. “Should I talk with someone coming inside?”
You may rely on it, said the ball.
A boy opened the door of the school and stepped inside. Abby’s heart dropped. The star of the swim team? “Him?” she asked pleadingly.
Better not tell you now, the ball said elusively.
Abby sighed. She hated having to decide things for herself.
At that moment, the bell rang, and she hurried off to her first period class, Algebra. Abby slid into her seat, and took out her ball again. “Did I have homework that I was supposed to do?”
Signs point to yes, the ball answered.
Abby groaned. Her spirits dropped even further when the teacher reminded the class that they were taking their final that day. She hated forgetting about those things. “Will I pass?” she asked softly.
Reply hazy, try again, said the ball noncommittally.
She took that as a maybe…if she used her ball to help her, of course. The teacher passed out the test, a packet that seemed to be composed of hundreds of pages. “Begin,” he said.
Abby looked at the first question, which was, 215=100x + 15. She stared at it blankly, not comprehending any part of it. Why hadn’t she paid attention in class?
“Is it A: 2?” she asked her ball in a whisper. The girl sitting next to Abby glared at her spitefully.
Ask again later, it said smugly.
“No, I need to know now!” she muttered, a little louder this time. A hissing sound filled the room as all of her classmates made shushing noises.
My sources say no, the ball said.
“Is it B: 12?” Abby asked, trying to make her voice as quiet as possible.
It is decidedly so, it answered.
She marked it down, and moved on to the next question. “Is it…”
The boy in front of her whirled around. “Shut up! I’m trying to take a test!”
“What’s the problem?” said the teacher.
“Abby won’t be quiet,” said one of her classmates. “She’s distracting us.”
The teacher walked over to Abby’s desk with slow, steady steps. “What is that under your desk, Abby?”
She swallowed and pushed it farther from view. “Nothing.”
He raised his eyebrows, his dangerous look. Abby hesitated for a moment, and then took out her ball.
“What were you doing with your magic 8-ball, Abby?” asked the teacher.
“It…it was helping me with the answers,” she whispered. A small wave of snorts and giggles rippled through the room.
He held out his hand. “Give it to me, Abby.”
Abby stared up at him in silence, and then shook her head.
“Give it to me.”
“No,” she said.
“Now.”
“No, I need it!”
The teacher reached over and quickly pried it from her hand, and stepped back.
“No!” Abby shrieked, leaping to her feet. “You can’t do this! You can’t take it away from me! I need it, I…”
“Abby, I’m taking you to the principal’s office,” he said, and she quieted. As he steered her out of the classroom and down the hallway, Abby pictured the words she had seen in the blue liquid as the teacher had taken the ball from her.
Don’t count on it.
Nice to see you trying random things, though!