Hidden between rocks and sunshine, whatever!

"Something between the rocks glinted in the morning sunshine."

For real, this is how the year is gonna start? This is stupid. Who cares about rocks and sunshine?

Candace rolls her eyes and stuffs the photocopied poem into a folder. She looks around the room for a distraction. She hates English and poetry sucks even more.

She says damn, under her breath when she spots a new face. He is fine. Instinctively, she reaches for her lip gloss and makes a mental note to make sure she's wearing a hot pushup bra tomorrow.

At lunch I tell her the boy's name is Rob. He's in my American History class.

“Who name's their child Rob?”

“For real, Candace? What difference does it make what his name is? He's fine.”

She doesn't argue. He skin is creamy and he has hazel eyes. She can't figure why she thinks the white boy (her words not mine) is cute. Candace likes black boys but whatever. Besides, she says she can tell he's mixed. His mother is probably white.

 Mr. Hicks is cuter.

“Candace, are you listening to me?”

Of course I'm not listening. Shavi is talking about her hot Geometry teacher. The girl is wacked like that. First of all, she actually likes math and every year since sixth grade she has a crush on some stupid teacher.

“Girl, yeah.”

We're sitting at our usual spot in the lunchroom when Rob walks in. He's kind of lanky, but his shoulders are broad and he has big feet. Candance smiles. She believes what they say about boys with big feet.

“Shavi, look.”

Shavi is so freakin' obvious. Geek turns her entire head in the direction of Rob, watching him drop his backpack on the chair at a table across the lunchroom.

“Can you be anymore obvious, Shavi?!”

“What?”

“Forget it. Let's get in line.”

“We already have our food.”

“Dummy, get up.”

We fall in line. We're a few kids behind Rob. Candance wants to check out the goodie up close and personal.

“Tomorrow, come by early. I want you to flat iron my hair.”

“Really, Candace? We just started school and you're already stalking your new boy.”

“Are you gonna come by?”

“Yeah.”

I hope Rob's not like Shavi. I don't wanna pretend I like poetry and shit.


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