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and saw me.
    â€œHey Miss October,” he jeered. “How’s that itch?” He snickered and gestured at his crotch. “I got something you can scratch.”
    He was such a jerk I wasn’t even embarrassed. “You should see a doctor about that,” I said. “I think it comes from too much masturbation.”
    â€œOuch.” Trevor laughed.
    Jacob was pissed, but after a look at Trevor, he didn’t say anything else. He walked over to his buddies in the jock corner, whispered something to them and they all snickered.
    â€œWant me to beat him up for you?” Trevor held up his fists like a boxer. He was kidding, of course, and it was funny, but then he said, “What is this itch everybody’s talking about?”
    I was not going to share it with him. Absolutely not. “I’ve gotta get to the library,” I said. “I’ll see you later.”
    He frowned. I sort of hoped he’d offer to come with me, but then he shrugged. “Okay.”
    I fled. Damn Jacob. He had teased me since 3rd Grade and been rude and disgusting since 9th, but this year he had basically ignored me—thank God—until the itch. Please, I thought, don’t let the itch be my defining moment. I could see the yearbook and underneath my photo: “Girl Most Likely To Scratch.”
    I turned the corner to the library and literally collided with Walker Smith. He dropped the book he was holding and we both bent to pick it up and bumped our heads. Just like a comedy routine, only it was more of a tragedy. Every time I saw him I did or said something stupid.
    â€œYou okay?”
    â€œGoing to the library.”
    â€œYour forehead.”
    â€œIt’s fine.”
    I didn’t want to look up into those blue eyes. I tried to think about the new guy, about Trevor, but once again Walker radiated safety and warmth, and I felt myself relaxing, slowing down, turning into pudding beside him.
    â€œSorry about yesterday,” I said.
    â€œNo, no. I’m sorry. I came to check on you, make sure you’re all right. Crows carry terrible diseases.”
    â€œLike what?”
    Before he could answer he looked over my shoulder and gave a little hiss. I turned around. Trevor came toward us. His muscles bulged in his tight T-shirt and he walked with a fluid motion like a dancer or a gymnast. I smiled at him. He smiled back.
    â€œHey,” I said.
    â€œThought you were going to the library.” He stuck out his hand for Walker to shake. “Trevor Rockman,” he said. “You October’s uncle or something?”
    I almost choked.
    Walker’s eyes narrowed and his chin went up. “October is helping me with a project.”
    â€œNo, I’m not.”
    â€œYes, you are.”
    â€œI don’t think so.”
    â€œGuess she’s not,” Trevor said and offered me his arm. “We’re going to the library.”
    â€œWait,” Walker said.
    Trevor and I walked away. When we got into the library I laughed out loud. “Thank you.”
    Trevor grinned. “That guy is a little strange, huh?”
    â€œYou’re telling me.”
    We laughed and the librarian shushed us—naturally—so Trevor led me down to the far wall, way back in the stacks. I love the smell of old books and for some reason that and the dust and even the gray piece of chewing gum stuck on the wall were like an aphrodisiac. I had goose bumps. Trevor looked up at the fluorescent light. It was buzzing, and then it flickered and went out, leaving us in the shadows.
    â€œPerfect,” said Trevor.
    I was trembling. Was he going to kiss me? Was this going to be my first official kiss? I’d just met him. I didn’t want him to think I was a slut, but then I decided I would worry about that later.
    He whispered. “What do you say we skip the rest of the day and find a place to go swimming?”
    â€œIt’s cold out.”
    â€œI’ll keep you