zippers and rivets lined his black pants, and he carried a green lunch box with some cartoon character grinning on the front.
He met my gaze, his lips curving up in a smile. I’d recognize those gray eyes anywhere—even smudged with black eyeliner.
Justin lifted his arms and motioned to his clothes. “What do you think—too much?”
And here I’d been preparing myself to apologize. Forgive and forget, as Mom says. “Fuck you,” I said, with a familiar ache in my throat.
Kari turned around, her mouth hanging open. “Smooth move, Justin.”
He rolled his eyes at her and sat down, putting his hand on my arm. His fingers felt like an electrical current on my skin. Every nerve ached.
“Don’t touch me,” I said.
“Hey, I thought you’d laugh,” he said. “Come on—I even begged my niece to let me use her lunch box.”
“You’re making fun of me. I get it, okay?” Out of the corner of my eye I could see Mr. Duncan walk in, but I didn’t care. Part of me had hoped Justin was different—that he wouldn’t make me the butt of another joke. But nothing had changed. Different school, same jerks.
“No—I’m—”
“Leave me alone!”
“What’s going on back there?” Mr. Duncan asked.
Justin faced forward, and I looked up at the teacher. Every head was turned in my direction.
“Nothing,” I said, my face on fire.
The teacher looked from me to Justin for a few moments before continuing. “I got the class syllabus printed off as promised.” He fished a stack of papers out of his bag and began divvying them up among the rows. “As most of you know, I like to start the semester off with a bang, and I thought we’d tackle
A couple of groans reverberated around the room. “Just say no!” a boy jeered.
“Sounds like you’ve read it,” Mr. Duncan said. “And here I thought you guys were too busy watching
“I read it in, like, seventh grade,” a girl with long braids said. “It’s a good book.”
“Well, now you get to dissect it.”
Justin dangled a stapled bunch of papers over his shoulder. I ripped them out of his hand, hoping to give him paper cuts.
“And you’ll notice I’m still all about the journals.”
More groans filtered throughout the room.
“Yeah, yeah. They’re good for you. An entry is due every Friday. Tell me your thoughts on life. What you had for dinner, your favorite color or band. Whatever’s on your mind. I won’t be grading these—but I’ll flunk you if you don’t turn them in every week.”
The thought of trying to organize my thoughts made my head hurt. I never got the point of journals. Why document things I already know? That’s boring. Plus, most experiences weren’t worth rehashing.
Most of the class whispered to each other as Mr. Duncan passed out the books. Justin held one over his shoulder for me, but he moved it every time I tried to grab it.
“Give me the book, jerk.”
“And it looks like we’re a couple short,” Mr. Duncan announced. “I’ll be right back.”
Justin waited for him to leave before turning to face me. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m not making fun of you.”
“Yeah, right.”
His eyes widened. “Do you have any idea how many boxes I had to go through to find these pants?”
“No, and I don’t care. Can you give me the book now?”
He raised the book, but still kept it out of reach. “Come on, I’m wearing eyeliner here. I didn’t even go this far when I
“Did you borrow that from your niece too?”
He smirked. “No, my older sister.”
The image of Justin struggling to put on eyeliner
“Was that a hint of a smile I saw?”
“You look ridiculous,” I said. Even though I kind of liked the way he looked. It was an improvement over the boring Nike shirt.
“You’re hard to please,” he whispered. “What look should I try tomorrow? Raver? Punk? How about a skater cowboy?” He set the book down on my desk and smiled.
Mr. Duncan tore back into the classroom and passed out the remaining books. Justin turned around and flipped through the pages.
A shadowed eyeball peered at me from the black cover. The face reminded me of Mom after she gets dumped.
