The boy who’d yelled slipped out of line, stopping in front of me as he high-fived Vince. With a face as pretty as a girl’s and blond hair hanging down his shoulders, he was the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen. His tanned arms were big and strong-looking and his jeans were super tight—so tight you could see his stuff, and it looked like a lot of stuff. I couldn’t help but look. I tore my eyes away and looked at Jelly. She was looking at his stuff, too.
“Hey there, Jelly,” the boy said to her. “Lookin’ hot, mama.”
“Yeah?” Jelly asked, cocking her hip as she studied her nails. “Well, you look like shit, Free. When you gonna cut that hair of yours?”
“Are you bananas?” Free took a step back. “Cut my hair?” He punched Vince in the shoulder.
“What the hell, man?” Vince demanded.
“Your lame-o sister thinks I should cut my hair, Dude.”
“Dammit, Jelly,” Vince glared at her. “Don’t screw with Free about his hair. You know how he is.”
Jelly shrugged her shoulders like she didn’t care about any of them. The line surged forward. She squeezed my hand as we swayed back and forth with the crowd that had grown behind us. “Stay close,” she said, her hand still holding mine tightly. “If we get separated, meet me at the lockers.”
When the heavy metal doors opened, “Heart Of Glass” blasted out at us. The crowd pushed forward toward the sound, anxious to get inside the building. I began searching for Free again. Scanning the faces, my eyes found their prize: Free and his stuff standing in the doorway—the bright lights from inside shining on him. By the way Free had flirted with Jelly, I was sure he had the hots for her, but Free wasn’t looking at Jelly—Free was staring at me.
Someone grabbed Free by his shirt and pulled him away—shattering the beautiful image of him as if it had all been a dream.
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