Read You Can't Catch Me for Free Online

Like “Thank you.” But I can tell my cheeks are full of blush from the heat rolling through them. My shaking fingers try to get my earbuds back in, but it takes me one or two times before they stay. His eyes flick up, and now I’m noticing their color, which is this greenish but more brownish that match the freckles on his round cheeks. Oh joy, I’m noticing freckles. And I’m staring. My lips turn into this lopsided, goofy feeling grin, and instead of grinning back, he just looks at me with the blankest of stares, mouth partly open and floppy hair blowing across his forehead.
    I slam my eyes shut and fall back on the grass, cranking my music up. Maybe when I have the guts to open my eyes again, he’ll be gone, and I can talk to Cayenne about this in private.
    My track turns to I Put a Spell on You . My sister thinks she’s a comedian.

6
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    Okay… so it’s not only me who’s had a sprout of puberty over the summer. As I stand in the hallway at school—arms crossed firmly over my chest—I can’t help but notice all the… beards . Like, when did guys start growing beards? And even though they can, why would they want to?
    Tiff finds me first, and she bounces through the crowded student union, schedule in hand, ignoring the full beard on Eddie Gosivick, who looked twelve last year and now looks thirty-five.
    “We never compared!” she says, snatching my schedule and swapping it with hers. I glance over the classes, stomach sinking when I see that we have not a single one together.
    “Ugh, this blows,” I say. “Hopefully we at least have lunch.”
    “Maybe we can convince our parents to get us some transfers.”
    “Yeah right.” Last year I begged my mom to get me out of second period gym. She gave me some speech about how we all have to do things we don’t want, and we need to use the hand dealt to us or some kind of metaphor I stopped paying attention to halfway through because all I could think about was how I needed a stronger deodorant.
    “We should find Drake and Rodney. See what they have.”
    “I already know Drake’s schedule,” I say, walking with her to where our lockers are this year. My neck heats up at the memory of last I saw Drake, and I make sure my shirt is baggy enough that no one can tell I grew a million sizes in three months. The necklace I always wear is stuck in my cleavage—because I have cleavage now—so I yank it out and drape it over my shirt.
    “Hey Tiffany! Ginger!” someone calls from behind us. Jamal jogs up and without hesitating swings an arm over my shoulder. It throws me off, not because I’m not used to that—Drake is an over-the-shoulder type of guy—but Jamal is normally as hands off as I am. Something must’ve happened to him this summer too. “So where you headed first?” he asks.
    “Biology,” Tiff answers with a subsequent mouth fart. “You?”
    “English 10.”
    “With Ginger.” Tiff frowns. “Yeah, I’m definitely asking to transfer.”
    Jamal turns to me, his face closer than normal.
    “I’ll walk with ya,” he says. Then he totally… Eskimo kisses me. A snort rumbles my nose, and I shove him away.
    “Dude, personal bubble.” I laugh. He laughs too, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
    Tiff raises an eyebrow at Jamal, and thank heavens she does because if I was the only one thinking he’s acting bizarre, I’d start to get a complex.
    We turn the corner toward the Language Arts hallway, and I can feel my face falling. Even though I’m annoyed with Tiff on her make-out buddy of choice, I still wish she was walking into English 10 with me and Jamal.
    “See you on the flip,” she says, and we fist bump. Jamal watches me watch her leave and then follows me into our homeroom for the year.
    “Hey!” Rodney waves from the corner. Oh happy day! Having Rodney in first period will make it ten times more entertaining. The guy cannot help but run the commentary track during lectures. Last year I nearly peed myself in