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around with the assorted lotions, body washes, and conditioners that Mom puts in my bathroom. I hope Ty likes shea butter.
    Ugh. Al I’ve done since yesterday is think about him. I only got two hours of sleep last night. Imagine that—me losing tomorrow’s game against Lynchburg High School, the worst team in our district—because I’m worn out from thinking about a guy al night long.
    Yeah, I know. I make myself sick too.
    Yet here I am at 7:00 a.m., actual y trying to decide what I’m going to wear to school today. I spend two minutes brushing my hair, which is about two minutes longer than usual, then I pick out a nice pair of jeans, and since I don’t have practice today, I try on a pushup bra and matching underwear that have infiltrated my underwear drawer. The lacy blue underwear barely covers anything and offers virtual y no support.
    Mom must real y want me to get a boyfriend.
    As uncomfortable as I feel, I keep the girly underwear on anyway. Who knows? Provided they stay the hel out of my butt crack, they might make me feel sexier later on today.
    And instead of my usual ratty “Titans” and “Bel Buckle Moon Pie Ten-Mile Race” Tshirts, I pick out a plain black fitted tee. I know, I know—I’m wild. But seriously? For me, this fitted tee is total y dressing up, and it shows off my boobs. I don’t think too many people even realize I have boobs.
    Not even Jake, the total horndog, knows I have a chest.
    I top off the outfit with flip-flops and chapstick. Ty better appreciate how hard I’ve worked to make myself attractive for him this morning, because I am fucking spent.

    •••

    At lunchtime I head to the cafeteria, which always smel s like a mixture of meatloaf and salad dressing, like those odors have seeped into the concrete wal s and tile floor. I grab a slice of pizza, a salad, and a couple cartons of chocolate milk. I know I’m seventeen and that those little milk cartons are for kids, but I love them.
    Today, I’m the first person to sit down at the footbal team’s table, and when I look up at the lunch line to see where the rest of the guys are, there he is. Ty. He stares at me, smiling. From across the cafeteria, he mouths the words, “Can I sit with you?”
    I take a bite of pizza and point at the table. He grins again. Suddenly I seem to lose the ability to chew.
    He drops his tray down and slides in beside me. Our elbows touch. “Hey, Woods.”
    I nod once. “Ty.”
    I scan the cafeteria for the rest of the guys, hoping they’l be here soon. JJ and Carter are talking to a tableful of freshman girls. From a few tables away, Lacey is glaring at JJ, but he doesn’t even notice because some redhead is feeding him French fries. Carter is listening to a girl with long brown hair, gazing at her as if she’s saying very important things, like giving a play-by-play account of Super Bowl XXXVI I. In al actuality, she’s probably giving him a play-by-play account of some romance novel where some chick is in love with a boy who’s real y a werewolf, and a vampire who’s real y a dragon with enormous wings, and a handsome king who’s real y a vampire.
    Henry is standing over by the windows talking to Carrie Myer. He’s leaning against the glass and frowning at her. Is Mom right? Are they going to get back together? Carrie says something, and they both turn and look at me. She stares at me for a sec, then turns back to Henry and says something.
    What’s that about? I wish I could read lips. Then he drags a hand through his curls and focuses on the ceiling tiles. Carrie wipes a tear off her face, turns, and walks toward the doors. Her eyes are al puffy and red. Henry fol ows her out into the hal way, frowning.
    Even though she said she’s glad, maybe Carrie is actual y pissed that Marie went out with Henry yesterday, thus breaking the cardinal rule of cheerleading. JJ once told me that if a guy dates one cheerleader, the rest of the cheerleaders wil never, ever date him because of