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moving boxes around until he collapsed； and by then
Bryce might be dead。 Dead before he'd had the chance to move in！
The tragedy of it catapulted me into the moving van。 I had to help！ I had to save him！
When I got to his side to help him shove a box forward； the poor boy was so exhausted that
he just moved aside and let me take over。 Mr。 Loski
didn't want me to help； but at least I saved Bryce。 I'd been in the moving van all of three
minutes when his dad sent him off to help his mother unpack
things inside the house。
I chased Bryce up the walkway； and that's when everything changed。 You see； I caught up to
him and grabbed his arm； trying to stop him so
maybe we could play a little before he got trapped inside； and the next thing I know he's
holding my hand； looking right into my eyes。
My heart stopped。 It just stopped beating。 And for the first time in my life； I had that feeling。
You know； like the world is moving all around you； all
beneath you； all inside you； and you're floating。 Floating in midair。 And the only thing keeping
you from drifting away is the other person's eyes。
They're connected to yours by some invisible physical force； and they hold you fast while the
rest of the world swirls and twirls and falls pletely
away。
I almost got my first kiss that day。 I'm sure of it。 But then his mother came out the front door
and he was so embarrassed that his cheeks turned
pletely red； and the next thing you know he's hiding in the bathroom。
I was waiting for him to e out when his sister； Lyta； saw me in the hallway。 She
seemed big and mature to me； and since she wanted to
know what was going on； I told her a little bit about it。 I shouldn't have； though； because she
wiggled the bathroom doorknob and started teasing
Bryce something fierce。 “Hey； baby brother！” she called through the door。 “There's a hot
chick out here waiting for you！ Whatsa matter？ Afraid she's
got cooties？”
It was so embarrassing！ I yanked on her arm and told her to stop it； but she wouldn't； so
finally I just left。
I found my mother outside talking to Mrs。 Loski。 Mom had given her the beautiful lemon
Bundt cake that was supposed to be our dessert that
night。 The powdered sugar looked soft and white； and the cake was still warm； sending
sweet lemon smells into the air。
My mouth was watering just looking at it！ But it was in Mrs。 Loski's hands； and I knew there
was no getting it back。 All I could do was try to eat up
the smells while I listened to the two of them discuss grocery stores and the weather forecast。
After that Mom and I went home。 It was very strange。 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
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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 year。 She'd bring in some note and be sure to swoon a little for the teacher
the first few days of the year； after which she'd be
excused from anything that required muscles。 She never even put up her own chair at the
end of the day。 The only muscles she exercised regularly
were the ones around her mouth； and those she worked out nonstop。 If there was an
Olympic contest for talking； Shelly Stalls would sweep the
event。 Well； she'd at least win the gold and silver— one medal for each side of her mouth。
What bugged me about it was not the fact that she got out of P。E。—who'd want her on their
team； anyway？ What bugged me about it was that
anyone who bothered to look would know that it wasn't asthma or weak ankles or her being
“delicate” that was stopping her。 It was her hair。 She
had mountains of it； twisted this way or that； clipped or beaded； braided or swirled。 Her
ponytails rivaled the ones on carousel horses。 And on the
days she let it all hang down； she'd sort of shimmy and cuddle inside it like it was a blanket；
so that practically all you saw of her face was her nose。
Good luck playing four…square with a blanket over your head。
My solution to Shelly Stalls was to ignore her； which worked just dandy until about halfway
through the fifth grade when I saw her holding hands
with Bryce。
My Bryce。 The one who was still embarrassed over holding my hand two days before the
second grade。 The one who was still too shy to say
much more than hello to me。
The one who was still walking around with my first kiss。
How could Shelly have wormed her hand into his？ That pushy little princess had no business
hanging on to him like that！
Bryce looked over his shoulder from time to time as they walked along； and he was looking
at me。 My first thought was that he was telling me he
was sorry。 Then it dawned on me— he needed my help。 Absolutely； that's what it had to be！
Shelly Stalls was too delicate to shake off； too swirly to
be pushed away。 She'd unravel and start sniffling and oh； how embarrassing that would be
for him！ No； this wasn't a job a boy could do gracefully。
This was a job for a girl。
I didn't even bother checking around for other candidates—I had her off of him in two
seconds flat。 Bryce ran away the minute he was free； but not
Shelly。 Oh； no…no…no！ She came at me； scratching and pulling and twisting anything she
could get her hands on； telling me that Bryce was hers and
there was no way she was letting him go。
How delicate。
I was hoping for herds of teachers to appear so they could see the real Shelly Stal