Drew was nailing the friendship thing. Or Darlene was. Or both of them were. Yeah, that one. The last few months had been so awkward and un-fun in terms of the amount (not much) and quality (awkward and guilty) of time they spent together that Drew had kind of forgotten Darlene could be fun and funny.
He didn’t feel like a grown-up, though. Having a September birthday meant that you were technically older than most of your classmates, but in reality you had the exact same tools and knowledge as they did, so it didn’t really matter. And while Drew might be further ahead than some of his classmates on figuring out what he wanted to do (he’d known he wanted to be a journalist since his first Rocky Voices article hit the presses), he still hadn’t done important things like figuring out whether he wanted to go to college first. He was pretty sure the answer was no, but that led to the next big scary question of figuring out how to tell his dad he didn’t want to go to college. Thinking about that made him feel the opposite of grown-up.
The fact that Professor Blair had them playing with toys today really just hammered that home.
“All these things are toys,” Drew explained, gesturing to the tables in the Finer Diner. “We’re supposed to be arguing whether magical or Muggle toys are better. This one’s a game about surgery—that’s, uh, what Muggle Healers do to Heal without magic. Here.”
He picked up the tweezers attached to the board and helped Darlene hold it correctly, his hand around hers. “You’re supposed to use these to take out the tiny body parts,” he said, guiding her hand to take out Cavity Sam’s broken heart. “If you touch the side, the buzzer goes off and you lose your turn.”