"that's it! I'm swearing off every member of the female population. Do they still have monasteries? 'Cause a lifetime of praying and bad haircuts sure as hell beats chicks and their freaking drama." Daniel's lunch tray came down with a loud clang on the table.Rachel and I rolled our eyes in unison and turned to the third member of our trio with what we hoped were sup- portive expressions. "What did Kylie do this time?" Rachel asked, popping a Cheeto into her mouth. Daniel ran his hand over his buzzed blond head. He was clearly very agitated. But, honestly, when wasn't he agitated? Daniel was as big a drama queen (or king, or what- ever) as any girl.He let out a long, tortured sigh and propped his chin on his hand. Rachel's eyes went all gooey and I saw the telltale signs of her unrequited crush rearing its ugly head. Looking at our best friend, it was easy for me to understand why she felt the way she did. Daniel was easily one of the best-looking guys at Jackson High School. If he

"you stepped all over his manhood with your sparkly flip-flops, Mags. No guy likes to be saved by a chick. It's our job to do the saving. It's in the man code or something," Daniel told me after school, four days after my disastrous run-in with Clayton Reed. Four days, and I was still venting about his attitude and lack of gratitude.Okay, to be honest, I wasn't really irritated by that anymore. I was more irritated by the fact that I hadn't crossed paths with him since. Clayton seemed to be making it his mission to stay out of my and everyone else's way. So I was still talking about our exchange in a des- perate attempt to keep it all relevant, mostly because I couldn't stop talking about him. Or thinking about him.But Daniel's words were just com- pletely asinine. I frowned at best friend number 2. "That is so dumb. What was with the whole suffrage thing and the entire push for gender equality if we still have to bow down to gender stereotypes?" I asked in my best haughty tone.Rac

"Well, maybe that will change here,” I said. Clayton looked at me question- ingly and I realized that the statement sounded more like a coy invitation. I coughed uncomfortably and cleared my throat. "I mean, making friends and all," I covered lamely. Clay nodded. "Maybe." He didn't sound at all convinced."Did your parents get new jobs or something? Is that why you moved?” I asked. Clayton's discomfort seemed magnified with my question. I thought it was innocent enough, nothing to in- cite the reaction I got. Clayton moved a good foot away from me and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jack- et. He turned his head away."Uh, no. There were just . . . um . . . circumstances that required me to move." The tone of his voice let me know that that particular subject was closed."You're not in the witness-protection program, are you?" I kidded, not want- ing to drop the conversation. I wanted to know everything about Clayton Reed. He was going to be my friend, whether he wanted t

I made my way to the back of the store, where it opened into a separate space for the used books. I stopped first at the small cart just inside the room, looking through the "new" items Ruby had brought in. I picked up a collection of essays by William Faulkner and went to a worn armchair in the corner.I was so engrossed that I didn't know he was there until I felt someone beside me. I looked up to see Clayton Reed standing beside my chair, his arms loaded down with books. He turned up one side of his mouth in a half smile."Hey, Maggie," he said quietly, not looking away from me. I felt the insane urge to smooth my hair, but I resisted, not wanting to come across as a moron."Hey," I said back, closing the Faulkner book and getting up so I could return it to the stack."So, what are you doing here?" he asked, shifting the books in his arms. I looked around and lifted my hands."Oh, I don't know, baking a cake. Learning CPR. Take your pick," I re- marked sarcastically. Clay smiled, a

"damn it!" I grumbled as I realized I had left my gym bag in my locker. It was after school and I was on my way to cross-country practice. This was my third year on the team and I was proud of the fact that I was in a prime position to lead us to state this year. Coach Kline was convinced that I would break some records during the season.Yeah, I was pretty good. And modest, too. And running really, really late. Coach Kline would make me run extra time if I didn't pull my finger out. I jogged back down the hallway toward my locker and collided with someone coming from the opposite direction.I reached out to grab hold of the other person's arms to steady myself."I'm so sorry," I breathed out, feeling embarrassed. My head shot up at the throaty laugh. Clay's eyes twinkled at me as he held on to my wrist. "We've got to stop meeting like this," he said with amusement. I swallowed hard and felt my heart thud against my chest.I had looked for him at school today. It had been only two day