I’m a little early to school. Not sure how that happened. Obviously, I’m losing it. Most mornings, Mom has to shake me for five minutes before I’ll open my eyes.
She says she’s always afraid I’m dead. But I’m just a good sleeper.
I think everyone would like school a lot better if it started in the afternoon.
But here I am in the nearly empty halls of beautiful Linden High North. And am I surprised to hear running footsteps on the hard floor and someone shouting my name? Yes, I am.
It’s Delia, and she seems to be angry yet again.
Like, give me a break just one morning, please. Don’t get me wrong. She’s hot and all that, and, hey, she obviously has a thing for the Big Guy. (That’s yours truly, the one and only Winks.) So I put up with her. It’s the nice thing to do.
I put a grin on my face, spin around, and hold out my arms. “Hey, sunshine! How about a morning hug?”
She makes a disgusted face. “Ugh.”
Really. That’s what she said. “Ugh.”
Her hair fell in crazy ringlets around her face. It looked like it hadn’t been brushed. Her eyes were narrowed at me angrily.
Delia is tiny like a mouse and has that whispery voice. But she can be a lion when she wants to be. Roar.
This morning, she wore a few layers of T-shirts, a navy blue one on top, and tight-legged jeans that looked like they came from the kiddie department. I told you: she’s tiny.
She crossed her arms tightly over her chest and tapped one foot as she stared at me. I mean, I guessed she was staring at me. I couldn’t see her eyes through the dark shades.
I sighed. “Okay. What did I do wrong this time?”
“Winks, you said you’d stop by my house and pick me up.”
“Oh, wow.” I slapped my forehead. “You’re right. You’re totally right.”
Some kids drifted in and started banging open their lockers. The hall was filling up.
Delia uncrossed her arms and balled her hands into fists. “Don’t you ever think about me?” she cried. “You woke up this morning and you came to school, and you never even thought about me?”
I motioned with both hands. “Please, Delia—not so loud. People are watching.”
“Do I care?” she shouted. “I’m asking you a serious question. Do you ever think about me?”
“Of course,” I said. I reached out to put my hand on her shoulder, but she backed away. “I think about you a lot.”
“A lot? Only a lot?”
For some reason, that made us both laugh. It was a ridiculous conversation. I wasn’t sure why she insisted on having conversations like this all the time.
And people were watching. I saw Liam at his locker, a questioning look on his face, like, What’s up with you two?
“I’m sorry,” I said to Delia. “I woke up too early this morning, and my brain never got into gear. I mean, I was so shocked at being awake before seven, I couldn’t think of anything.”
“That’s the worst excuse I ever heard,” Delia said. But she didn’t say it angrily. She had a tiny smile on her face.
I gave her a quick hug. She’s so light. It’s like hugging a butterfly.
We’re not allowed to show affection or anything in the halls at school. Seriously. Not even a hug. It’s in the rule book they give everyone on the first day of school.
Most everyone ignores the rule. But I know a few kids who were caught kissing—and had to go to Mrs. Hart’s office and have a long, heartfelt discussion with her.
Our principal believes in having a lot of serious discussions with students. She says she’s all about communication and transparency, whatever that means.
Actually, Mrs. Hart is okay. I’ve known her forever because she’s Julie’s mother.
Delia and I were standing across from the principal’s office, and I saw Julie behind the front desk. She works in the office and helps her mother out.
Julie looked away when she saw me gazing at her, but I knew she’d been watching Delia and me have yet another argument.
Our parents are friends, so Julie and I have been thrown together for a lot of years. I guess she probably knows me better than anyone, which is weird, because I always have this feeling that she doesn’t really approve of me.
Julie is kind of a straight arrow and, if you want the truth, not that much in the fun or sense-of-humor department. But we’ve been friends for so long, it’s not like I can get out of it now.
I’m not a bad guy. She knows that. I don’t really understand why she can be kind of cold sometimes. Ever since Delia arrived in school, Julie has worked hard to be her best friend.
I guess Julie thinks I don’t care enough about Delia, and she’s probably right. I mean, this girl seems to want to act like we’re married.
So I hugged Delia, just a quick touch, and I said, “I have my mom’s car. I’ll take you to Benson’s for lunch.”
That’s a special privilege if you’re a senior. You can leave school at lunchtime.
Delia eats like a bird, seriously. Like a few seeds for lunch. But she likes Benson’s, and I know she liked the idea of going off together at lunchtime because we don’t do it very often. So she said yes and hurried away.
And then I had Liam beside me. I’d seen him watching us, and I knew he’d be coming over for details. Liam is one of my best buds, but he’s a bit of a gossip. No one takes him seriously. He’s definitely a player, and he likes to know what’s going on, even if it isn’t his business.
“So what’s up with you and Delia?” he asked.
“Never mind,” I said. “Are we up for a game on Saturday?”
Liam shrugged. “If we can find some guys.”
Liam and I are totally into Ultimate Frisbee. I mean, we’re major-league fanatics. We try to play every Saturday in the playground behind the middle school. But you need two teams, and sometimes it’s hard to find dudes who want to play.
We’ve even tried Zane. That’s how desperate we are. But Zane says he doesn’t like to sweat, which is why he never plays sports unless he has to.
“So what was that about?” Liam demanded. I knew he wasn’t going to give up.
“About five minutes,” I said.
“Ha-ha. Good one. Remind me to laugh.” He twisted his baseball cap around to face the back of his head. He wears it all the time because his hair is ridiculous. I mean, it won’t stay down at all. It’s like he’s got porcupine hair or something.
We walked toward Mr. Deckland’s homeroom. I gazed around to make sure Delia wasn’t still hanging around. “Delia is in my face all the time,” I said.
Liam nodded. “Are you going to break up with her?”
“We already have,” I said, “but she doesn’t know it.”
What was I saying? I didn’t know it, either. Had I just decided to break up with Delia at that moment?
“She’ll be messed up,” Liam said, scratching one side of his face. “Delia, like, thinks the two of you are married or something.”
“Yeah. That’s the problem.”
It was too early to be thinking this hard. My brain usually stays in sleep mode till after lunch. I changed the subject back to Ultimate Frisbee.
Liam said he was working on getting a team together. Then he bumped fists with me and hurried away.
I turned a corner, into the hall that led to homeroom. I passed a group of cheerleaders in their blue-and-yellow uniforms. All very hot-looking in those pleated short skirts. They must have had an early-morning practice.
Basketball season was over. I wasn’t sure what they were practicing for. Maybe just to keep in shape.
My friend Leesa is one of them. She led them all over to me. They surrounded me. Their faces glistened with sweat. Some of them were red-faced from their workout.
“Let’s make up a cheer for Winks!” Leesa said.
They mostly reacted with laughter.
“Go, Winks! Go, Winks!” a girl named Min Lee shouted.
And then someone said, “What rhymes with Winks?”
Then they thought it was a riot when someone said, “Stinks.” I think it was Leesa.
That ended the whole cheer thing. Believe me, I was loving the attention and hated to see them go.
I watched them until they turned the corner. Then I continued toward homeroom. I was just a few doors down when I felt a hand squeeze my arm.
“Winks?”
I spun around and gazed at Morgan Marks. Gazed right into those huge green eyes. Her hair was pulled back in a long ponytail. She wore a purple V-neck top that came down over a short black skirt.
“Winks, you know it’s my first day. I’m lost. Can you help me find my homeroom?”
She smelled flowery, sweet. Most girls at Linden don’t wear perfume or anything. But she was definitely different. The sweet aroma nearly made my eyes tear.
“Sure. No problem,” I said.
“Oh, thank you.” She reached for my arm again, and her purple fingernails scraped the skin.
I cried out in surprise.
“I-I’m sorry!” she stammered. “My hand slipped. I—”
“No worries,” I said. I raised my arm to examine it.
“I scratched you,” Morgan said. “Oh, wow. It was an accident. I’m so sorry.”
Her fingernail had scratched a tiny line on my biceps under my T-shirt sleeve, and a few drops of bright red blood trickled along the line. “No big deal,” I said.
But to my surprise, she reached out, pressed her pointer finger against my arm, rubbed the blood off the scratch. Then she raised her blood-covered finger to her lips—and licked the blood off.
Morgan’s eyes flashed, and she grinned at me. “Now we’re blood buddies,” she said.
