I　hadn't　gotten　to　play　with　Bryce　at　all。

All　I　knew　was　that　his　eyes　were　a　dizzying　blue；　that

he　had　a　sister　who　was　not　to　be　trusted；　and　that　he'd　almost　kissed　me。

I　fell　asleep　that　night　thinking　about　the　kiss　that　might　have　been。　What　did　a　kiss　feel　like；

anyway？　Somehow　I　knew　it　wouldn't　be　like　the　one　I

got　from　Mom　or　Dad　at　bedtime。　The　same　species；　maybe；　but　a　radically　different　beast；

to　be　sure。　Like　a　wolf　and　a　whippet—only　science

would　put　them　on　the　same　tree。

Looking　back　on　the　second　grade；　I　like　to　think　it　was　at　least　partly　scientific　curiosity　that

made　me　chase　after　that　kiss；　but　to　be　honest；　it

………　Page　9………

was　probably　more　those　blue　eyes。　All　through　the　second　and　third　grades　I　couldn't　seem

to　stop　myself　from　following　him；　from　sitting　by　him；

from　just　wanting　to　be　near　him。

By　the　fourth　grade　I'd　learned　to　control　myself。　The　sight　of　him—the　thought　of　him—still

sent　my　heart　humming；　but　my　legs　didn't　actually

chase　after　him　anymore。　I　just　watched　and　thought　and　dreamed。

Then　in　the　fifth　grade　Shelly　Stalls　came　into　the　picture。　Shelly　Stalls　is　a　ninny。　A　whiny；

gossipy；　backstabbing　ninny　who　says　one　thing　to　one

person　and　the　opposite　to　another。　Now　that　we're　in　junior　high；　she's　the　undisputed　diva

of　drama；　but　even　back　in　elementary　school　she　knew

how　to　put　on　a　performance。　Especially　when　it　came　to　P。E。　I　never　once　saw　her　run　laps

or　do　calisthenics。　Instead；　she　would　go　into　her

“delicate”　act；　claiming　her　body　would　absolutely　collapse　from　the　strain　if　she　ran　or

jumped　or　stretched。

It　worked。　Every　yea