雙語(yǔ)暢銷書·怦然心動(dòng) Chapter 02　心動(dòng)

Chapter 02

心動(dòng)

遇見布萊斯·羅斯基的第一天，我就對(duì)他怦然心動(dòng)。呃，好吧，實(shí)際上我對(duì)他完全是一見鐘情。是因?yàn)樗难劬?。他的眼神里有某種東西。他有一雙藍(lán)色的眼睛，在黑色睫毛下一閃一閃的，讓我忍不住屏住了呼吸。

六年了，我早就學(xué)會(huì)隱藏自己的感覺了。不過(guò)想想最初的日子，還是讓人哭笑不得。最初的那幾年，我想我大概是太執(zhí)著地想跟他在一起了。

事情源于二年級(jí)開學(xué)的前兩天，雖然幾周之前就有了先兆——媽媽告訴我，有一家人要搬到對(duì)街的新房子，帶著一個(gè)跟我同齡的男孩。

足球夏令營(yíng)已經(jīng)結(jié)束了，街坊鄰居沒有一個(gè)人陪我玩，真是無(wú)聊死了。附近也有幾個(gè)孩子，可他們?nèi)际谴蠛⒆?。?duì)我哥哥們來(lái)說(shuō)當(dāng)然不錯(cuò)，可我卻只能一個(gè)人孤零零地留在家里。

媽媽也在家，不過(guò)她有的是比踢球更重要的事情要做。反正她是這么說(shuō)的。對(duì)于當(dāng)年的我來(lái)說(shuō)，沒有什么比踢球更好的了，尤其是跟洗衣服、刷盤子、拖地板比起來(lái)。但我媽媽不同意。單獨(dú)跟媽媽待在家里就有這個(gè)危險(xiǎn)，她會(huì)抓住我?guī)退匆路?、刷盤子、拖地板。而且她絕對(duì)不能容忍我在做家務(wù)的間隙踢兩腳球。

為保險(xiǎn)起見，我在屋子外邊晃蕩了幾個(gè)星期，生怕鄰居來(lái)早了。真的，足有幾個(gè)星期。為了自?shī)首詷?，我開始跟我的狗“冠軍”踢球。大多數(shù)時(shí)間它只能把球撲住，畢竟狗不是真的會(huì)“踢”球。但它有時(shí)會(huì)用鼻子去捅。不過(guò)，球的氣味對(duì)狗來(lái)說(shuō)一定是難以抵擋的誘惑，因?yàn)榈阶詈蟆肮谲姟笨倳?huì)試圖把它吃下去，然后輸球給我。

當(dāng)羅斯基家的卡車終于到來(lái)的那一天，我家里的每個(gè)人都?xì)g欣鼓舞?！靶≈炖虬材取苯K于有個(gè)玩伴了。

作為一個(gè)極度敏感體貼的成年人，媽媽硬是讓我在家里待了足足一個(gè)小時(shí)才出門見鄰居?！敖o他們留點(diǎn)時(shí)間伸個(gè)懶腰，朱莉安娜，”她說(shuō)，“他們需要一些時(shí)間休整?！彼踔敛辉试S我從院子里往外看，“我很了解你，寶貝。沒準(zhǔn)兒最后你的球不知怎么就掉到人家的院子里，而你不得不過(guò)去撿回來(lái)?！?/p>

所以，我只好趴在窗戶旁邊，隔幾分鐘就問(wèn)：“現(xiàn)在能去了嗎？”她每次都回答：“再給他們一點(diǎn)兒時(shí)間，好嗎？”

這時(shí)電話響了。當(dāng)我能肯定她正心情愉悅并且全神貫注在電話上時(shí)，我就拽著她的袖子問(wèn)：“現(xiàn)在好了嗎？”

她點(diǎn)點(diǎn)頭，輕聲說(shuō)：“好吧，但是放松一點(diǎn)兒！我馬上就過(guò)去?！?/p>

我太興奮了，忍不住橫穿了馬路，但我努力在接近卡車的時(shí)候保持了禮貌。我站在車外朝里望去，破紀(jì)錄地保持這個(gè)姿勢(shì)挺長(zhǎng)時(shí)間，但是這太有難度了，因?yàn)椴畈欢嗟鹊揭话氲臅r(shí)候，我看到了他！我堅(jiān)信即將成為我新的最佳死黨的人——布萊斯·羅斯基！

其實(shí)布萊斯并沒有做什么。他只是在那邊晃蕩著，看他爸爸把箱子搬到汽車尾板上。記得當(dāng)時(shí)我真的很同情羅斯基先生，因?yàn)樗瓷先テv不堪，全靠他一個(gè)人在那里搬。我還記得他和布萊斯穿著相同款式的藍(lán)綠色Polo衫（一種休閑服裝），非?？蓯?。真是太好看了。

我不好意思再呆呆地站在那兒，于是朝車?yán)锖暗溃骸澳銈兒?！”布萊斯驚得跳了起來(lái)，然后像只蟋蟀似的迅速開始推起一只箱子，假裝他一直在工作。

布萊斯的內(nèi)疚感讓我猜到，他本來(lái)應(yīng)該乖乖地幫忙搬箱子，但他卻煩透了這活兒。沒準(zhǔn)兒他已經(jīng)干了好幾天了！很明顯，他需要休息。他需要喝點(diǎn)什么，比如果汁！同樣很明顯，羅斯基先生不可能放他走。他可能準(zhǔn)備干到自己累倒為止，那時(shí)候布萊斯估計(jì)已經(jīng)累死了——他大概都沒機(jī)會(huì)走進(jìn)新家！

眼前的這一幕慘劇推動(dòng)我走進(jìn)了卡車。我必須去幫忙！我必須救他！

我走到他身邊，準(zhǔn)備幫他一起推箱子，這個(gè)可憐的孩子實(shí)在太累了，他只是讓出位置，把活兒交給了我。羅斯基先生不想讓我?guī)兔?，但我至少救出了布萊斯。我在卡車?yán)镒疃嘀淮巳昼姡捅凰职职l(fā)配去屋子里幫媽媽整理行李。

我追著他上了人行道，從這一刻起，一切都變了。這么說(shuō)吧，我追上他，抓住他的胳膊，只想在他被困在屋里之前截住他，跟我玩一會(huì)兒。然后突然之間，他牽起我的手，直直地看著我的眼睛。

毫無(wú)原因地，我心臟就那么漏跳了一拍。我的人生中第一次有了那樣的感覺。就像整個(gè)世界在你四周，從你身體由內(nèi)而外地翻滾，而你飄浮在半空中。唯一能綁住你不會(huì)飄走的，就是那雙眼睛。

當(dāng)你們兩個(gè)人的眼睛被一種看不見的力量連接在一起，在外面的世界旋轉(zhuǎn)、翻騰并徹底分崩離析的時(shí)候，一把抓住了你。

那天，我差一點(diǎn)兒就得到了我的初吻。我十分肯定。但是緊接著他媽媽就從屋子里走出來(lái)，他尷尬得臉都紅透了，接下來(lái)他就躲進(jìn)了洗手間。

我在門廳里等他出來(lái)，這時(shí)他的姐姐利奈特發(fā)現(xiàn)了我。她看上去比我大，更成熟一些。她問(wèn)我怎么回事，我就簡(jiǎn)單地說(shuō)了一點(diǎn)兒。不過(guò)，我不該告訴她的，因?yàn)樗龘u晃著洗手間的門把手，瘋狂地嘲笑起布萊斯?！昂?，小弟弟！”她朝門的那一邊大聲喊著，“外面有個(gè)漂亮小姑娘在等你！你怎么不敢出來(lái)？怕她身上有虱子嗎？”

這太尷尬了！我拽著她的胳膊想讓她停下來(lái)，但她不肯，最后我只好走開了。

我看見媽媽正在門口和羅斯基太太說(shuō)話。媽媽送給她一個(gè)漂亮的烘烤檸檬蛋糕，那恐怕應(yīng)該是我家今晚的甜點(diǎn)。上面的糖霜看起來(lái)又白又軟，蛋糕還熱著，散發(fā)著甜甜的檸檬香氣。

看到它我的口水就流出來(lái)了！但它現(xiàn)在屬于羅斯基太太，再也回不來(lái)了。我只能在她們討論雜貨店和天氣預(yù)報(bào)的時(shí)候狠狠地吞咽著空氣中的香味。

然后我就和媽媽回家了。這太奇怪了。我根本沒能和布萊斯一起玩。我只記得他那雙閃閃發(fā)亮的藍(lán)眼睛，他有個(gè)不靠譜的姐姐，以及他差點(diǎn)親了我。

晚上，我想著那個(gè)本該發(fā)生的初吻睡著了。被人親吻到底是什么感覺？不知怎的，我知道它一定和爸爸媽媽的晚安吻不一樣。毫無(wú)疑問(wèn)，雖然它們看起來(lái)差不多，卻有本質(zhì)上的不同。就像狼和狗——只有科學(xué)家才會(huì)認(rèn)為它們同屬一個(gè)科目。

回首二年級(jí)，我總是希望自己至少有一部分是出于對(duì)科學(xué)的好奇，才如此執(zhí)著于我的初吻。但誠(chéng)實(shí)地說(shuō)，恐怕更重要的原因是那雙藍(lán)眼睛。從那一刻起，直到三年級(jí)結(jié)束，我無(wú)法自拔地追隨著他，坐在他旁邊，希望自己至少能離他近一點(diǎn)兒。

到了四年級(jí)，我學(xué)會(huì)控制自己。看到他——想到他——仍然讓我的心怦怦直跳，但我已經(jīng)不再真的追著他跑。我只是在那里望著，想著，盼望著。

五年級(jí)的時(shí)候，忽然冒出了一個(gè)雪莉·斯道爾斯。她是個(gè)傻瓜，一個(gè)愛發(fā)牢騷、愛傳八卦、愛背后中傷別人的家伙。她總是把一件事對(duì)一個(gè)人說(shuō)成是黑的，對(duì)另一個(gè)人說(shuō)成是白的?，F(xiàn)在我們都升上了初中，她是個(gè)無(wú)可爭(zhēng)議的演技派天后，就算回到小學(xué)時(shí)代，她也知道該怎么裝樣子。尤其是體育課上，我既沒見過(guò)她跑圈也沒見過(guò)她做操。相反，她會(huì)奉上一出“完美”的表演，聲明她的身體在跑步、跳高和伸展運(yùn)動(dòng)的折磨下，一定會(huì)暈倒。

這很管用，每年都很管用。她帶來(lái)醫(yī)生的證明，并在學(xué)年開始的那幾天小小地暈倒幾次，然后逃過(guò)一年當(dāng)中任何需要力量的事情。甚至放學(xué)的時(shí)候都不搬自己的椅子。唯一經(jīng)常得到鍛煉的肌肉是她的嘴唇，而且動(dòng)起來(lái)幾乎一刻不停。假如奧運(yùn)會(huì)增加一個(gè)比賽說(shuō)話的項(xiàng)目，雪莉·斯道爾斯一定能橫掃一切獎(jiǎng)項(xiàng)。好吧，至少是金牌和銀牌——上下嘴唇各得一項(xiàng)。

其實(shí)，我煩惱的倒不是她不用上體育課這件事——說(shuō)實(shí)話，又有誰(shuí)愿意跟雪莉分在一組呢？我煩惱的是，只要誰(shuí)有心，就一定能看出妨礙她上課的根本不是哮喘、腳踝有傷或是她表現(xiàn)出的那種“嬌弱”，而是她的頭發(fā)。她有那么多頭發(fā)，一會(huì)兒卷成這樣，一會(huì)兒卷成那樣；一會(huì)兒剪短，一會(huì)兒綴上珠花；一會(huì)兒編辮子，一會(huì)兒盤成發(fā)髻。她的馬尾辮就跟旋轉(zhuǎn)木馬的尾巴差不多。那段時(shí)間她總是披散著頭發(fā)，把它們當(dāng)成毯子似的把自己的腦袋裹在里面，所以別人只能看到她的鼻子。

在腦袋上裹著一床毯子玩拋球游戲？還是算了吧。

我對(duì)待雪莉·斯道爾斯的方式是無(wú)視她，這一直都很奏效，直到五年級(jí)的時(shí)候我看到她握著布萊斯的手。

那是我的布萊斯，是那個(gè)始終為了二年級(jí)開學(xué)前兩天握了我的手而害羞的家伙。是那個(gè)因?yàn)樘π?，除了“你好”以外不敢跟我多說(shuō)一句話的家伙。

是那個(gè)一直還欠我一個(gè)初吻的家伙。

雪莉怎么敢把她的手塞進(jìn)他的手心里？這個(gè)愛出風(fēng)頭的嬌氣小公主根本沒理由和他混在一起！

當(dāng)他們經(jīng)過(guò)的時(shí)候，布萊斯時(shí)不時(shí)小心翼翼地回頭看，他看的是我。我首先想到的是，他是在向我表示抱歉。然后我忽然領(lǐng)悟了——他是想讓我?guī)兔Α]錯(cuò)，只能是這個(gè)意思！

雪莉·斯道爾斯太嬌弱了，讓布萊斯不好意思甩掉她，而且她太纏人了，讓他掙脫不掉。她一定會(huì)心碎的，然后開始抽搐，這對(duì)布萊斯來(lái)說(shuō)得有多尷尬！這件事男生做起來(lái)姿態(tài)絕對(duì)不好看。

只能由女生來(lái)代為完成。

我根本沒有考慮過(guò)是否還有其他人選——兩秒鐘之內(nèi)我就把她從他身邊拽開了。一掙開，布萊斯立刻跑掉了，但是雪莉沒跑。哦，不——不——不！她沖我過(guò)來(lái)了，對(duì)著她能夠到的地方又抓又扯又?jǐn)Q，說(shuō)布萊斯是屬于她的，她絕不放手。

真是太嬌弱了。

我滿心希望這時(shí)候冒出一大群老師，看看真實(shí)生活中的雪莉·斯道爾斯到底是什么樣子，可惜等人們來(lái)到這里已經(jīng)太晚了。我蓬頭垢面地被她夾住腦袋，而她的雙手被我反剪到背后，不管她怎樣尖叫、抓人，都不可能讓我在老師到達(dá)之前放開她。

最后，雪莉帶著一頭亂發(fā)提前回家了，而我則留下跟校長(zhǎng)復(fù)述情況。舒爾茨夫人是個(gè)健碩的女人，也許私下里會(huì)欣賞一記正確的飛踢，但是她告訴我最好還是讓別人去解決他們自己的困境，她完全明白雪莉·斯道爾斯和她的頭發(fā)是怎么回事，還說(shuō)她很高興看到我能夠控制住自己，沒有做出除了制止她以外更離譜的事。

第二天，雪莉帶著滿頭的辮子回來(lái)了。當(dāng)然，她成功地讓所有人都在私下議論我，但我根本不理他們。事實(shí)是不言自明的。在這個(gè)學(xué)年剩下的時(shí)間里，布萊斯從來(lái)不走近她。

這倒不是說(shuō)布萊斯從此跟我走在一起了，但他開始變得友善一些。尤其是六年級(jí)馬丁斯先生把我們安排在倒數(shù)第三排成了同桌之后。

坐在布萊斯旁邊感覺很好。他會(huì)每天早上對(duì)我說(shuō)“朱莉，你好”，偶爾我會(huì)發(fā)現(xiàn)他在看我。他總會(huì)臉紅，轉(zhuǎn)回去做他的事，然后我就不由自主地笑了。他太害羞了，而且那么可愛！

我們聊天的機(jī)會(huì)也更多了。尤其是馬丁斯先生安排我坐在他后面以后。馬丁斯先生會(huì)讓拼寫不合格的人留堂，比如，25個(gè)詞里寫錯(cuò)7個(gè)的人午飯時(shí)分必須跟著他，一遍又一遍地抄寫自己的名字。

留堂的陰影把布萊斯變成了驚弓之鳥。雖然良心上有點(diǎn)過(guò)意不去，但我還是會(huì)靠向他悄悄說(shuō)出答案，希望自己也許有機(jī)會(huì)和他一起吃午飯。他的頭發(fā)聞起來(lái)有股西瓜味，耳垂上長(zhǎng)著絨毛，柔軟的金色絨毛。我十分好奇，為什么一個(gè)長(zhǎng)著黑頭發(fā)的男孩耳朵上的絨毛卻是金色的？它們?yōu)槭裁磿?huì)長(zhǎng)在那里？我在鏡子里研究自己的耳垂，但上面什么也沒有，我注意到?jīng)]有一個(gè)人像他這樣。

我想過(guò)在馬丁斯先生跟我們討論科學(xué)史的時(shí)候，提出耳垂絨毛的問(wèn)題，但我沒問(wèn)過(guò)。相反，整整一年時(shí)間我都趴在他耳邊拼著單詞，聞著西瓜味道，想著自己是不是和初吻無(wú)緣了。

Chapter 02

Flipped

JULIANNA

The first day I met Bryce Loski, I flipped. Honestly, one look at him and I became a lunatic. It's his eyes. Something in his eyes. They're blue, and framed in the blackness of his lashes, they're dazzling. Absolutely breathtaking.

It's been over six years now, and I learned long ago to hide my feelings, but oh, those first days. Those first years! I thought I would die for wanting to be with him.

Two days before the second grade is when it started, although the anticipation began weeks before — ever since my mother had told me that there was a family with a boy my age moving into the new house right across the street.

Soccer camp had ended, and I'd been so bored because there was nobody, absolutely nobody, in the neighborhood to play with. Oh, there were kids, but every one of them was older. That was dandy for my brothers, but what it left me was home alone.

My mother was there, but she had better things to do than kick a soccer ball around. So she said, anyway. At the time I didn't think there was anything better than kicking a soccer ball around, especially not the likes of laundry or dishes or vacuuming, but my mother didn't agree. And the danger of being home alone with her was that she'd recruit me to help her wash or dust or vacuum, and she wouldn't tolerate the dribbling of a soccer ball around the house as I moved from chore to chore.

To play it safe, I waited outside for weeks, just in case the new neighbors moved in early. Literally, it was weeks. I entertained myself by playing soccer with our dog, Champ. Mostly he'd just block because a dog can't exactly kick and score, but once in a while he'd dribble with his nose. The scent of a ball must overwhelm a dog, though, because Champ would eventually try to chomp it, then lose the ball tome.

When the Loskis' moving van finally arrived, everyone in my family was happy. "Little Julianna" was finally going to have a playmate.

My mother, being the truly sensible adult that she is, made me wait more than an hour before going over to meet him. "Give them a chance to stretch their legs, Julianna," she said. "They'll want some time to adjust." She wouldn't even let me watch from the yard. "I know you, sweetheart. Somehow that ball will wind up in their yard and you'll just have to go retrieve it."

So I watched from the window, and every few minutes I'd ask, "Now?" and she'd say, "Give them a little while longer, would you?"

Then the phone rang. And the minute I was sure she was good and preoccupied, I tugged on her sleeve and asked, "Now?"

She nodded and whispered, "Okay, but take it easy! I'll be over there in a minute."

I was too excited not to charge across the street, but I did try very hard to be civilized once I got to the moving van. I stood outside looking in for a record-breaking length of time, which was hard because there he was! About halfway back! My new sure-to-be best friend, Bryce Loski.

Bryce wasn't really doing much of anything. Hewas more hanging back, watching his father move boxes onto the lift-gate. I remember feeling sorry for Mr. Loski because he looked worn out, moving boxes all by himself. I also remember that he and Bryce were wearing matching turquoise polo shirts, which I thought was really cute. Really nice.

When I couldn't stand it any longer, I called, "Hi!" into the van, which made Bryce jump, and then quick as a cricket, he started pushing a box like he'd been working all along.

I could tell from the way Bryce was acting so guilty that he was supposed to be moving boxes, but he was sick of it. He'd probably been moving things for days! It was easy to see that he needed a rest. He needed some juice! Something.

It was also easy to see that Mr. Loski wasn't about to let him quit. He was going to keep on 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 inmidair. 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 completely 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 completely red, and the next thing you know he's hiding in the bathroom.

I was waiting for him to come out when his sister, Lynetta, 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! What's 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 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 Stalls in action, but it was too late by the time anyone arrived on the scene. I had Fluffy in a headlock and her arm twisted back in a hammerlock, and no amount of her squawking or scratching was going to get me to unlock her until a teacher arrived.

In the end, Shelly went home early with a bad case of mussed-up hair, while I told my side of things to the principal. Mrs. Shultz is a sturdy lady who probably secretly appreciates the value of a swift kick well placed, and although she told me that it would be better if I let other people work out their own dilemmas, she definitely understood about Shelly Stalls and her hair and told me she was glad I'd had the self-control to do nothing more than restrain her.

Shelly was back the next day with a head full of braids. And of course she got everybody whispering about me, but I just ignored them. The facts spoke for themselves. Bryce didn't go anywhere near her for the rest of theyear.

That's not to say that Bryce held my hand after that, but he did start being a little friendlier to me. Especially in the sixth grade, after Mr. Mertins sat us right next to each other in the third row back.

Sitting next to Bryce was nice. He was nice. He'd say Hi, Juli to me every morning, and once in a while I'd catch him looking my way. He'd always blush and go back to his own work, and I couldn't help but smile. He was so shy. And so cute!

We talked to each other more, too. Especially after Mr. Mertins moved me behind him. Mr. Mertins had a detention policy about spelling, where if you missed more than seven out of twenty-five words, you had to spend lunch inside with him, writing your words over and over and over again.

The pressure of detention made Bryce panic. And even though it bothered my conscience, I'd lean in and whisper answers to him, hoping that maybe I could spend lunch with him instead. His hair smelled like watermelon, and his ear-lobes had fuzz. Soft, blond fuzz. And I wondered about that. How does a boy with such black hair wind up with blond ear fuzz? What's it doing there, anyway? I checked my own ear-lobes in the mirror but couldn't find much of anything on them, and I didn't spot any on other people's either.

I thought about asking Mr. Mertins about earlobe fuzz when we were discussing evolution in science, but I didn't. Instead, I spent the year whispering spelling words, sniffing watermelon, and wondering if Iwas ever going to get mykiss.