The corridors of Crestmount are so confusing! Seriously, it’s ridiculous. I have to check my class schedule for like the fiftieth time because I have to know where I’m going before I even attempt to squeeze through the mass of students roaming the campus. The bell shrills above me warning that there’s only five minutes left before next class starts. I head that way, past the sounds of lockers slamming and clips of conversations from the confusion of voices around me.

A couple of students stand by the lockers on the other side of the court. Carrie is one of them. She’s talking to a boy who looks at least a foot taller than her. He must be her boyfriend. What’s strange is that he looks more preppie than the boys from Ohio prep school. I can’t imagine what they’d have in common. They’re laughing now and he gives her a hug—not a polite hug but a lingering, full body contact kind of hug. I can feel myself staring as he kisses her. This isn’t just some peck on the lips; it’s totally blatant and lingers as long as their hug. But what really gets me flustered is this: this guy, still kissing Carrie—I kid you not—looks right at me while they kiss then actually squeezes her butt. He pulls back from Carrie, licks his lips at me as if she’s not even there.