Page 45 of Oh, Flutz!

“What is this, your serial killer lair?” Even in the dark, I can see the boy next to me rolling his eyes as he cards his hair out of his face.

“Shut up. We’re going to have some fun.”

“Couldn't we do it in a less horror-film-worthy location?” I ask, following him as he walks up to the door, fiddling with the handle.

“Just roll with me for a sec.”

I look at what he’s doing, and groan. “Are you breaking and entering right now?”

“I’m breaking, not so much entering. Picking a lock is a lot harder than it looks, sunshine.”

Please. “Move.”

“Why?”

I ignore the question, pushing past him and twisting the knob, turning back to smirk as the door creaks open.

The glare on his face is almost comical. Never mind, itiscomical. “I hate you, you know that?”

“I’m not the one who tried to pick a lock without seeing if it was even closed first.”

“Just for that, I’m schooling your ass on tobogganing.”

“Onwhat?”

“Only the best winter activity in existence.”

“This coming from a competitive figure skater?”

He grins at me. “Trust me. You’re gonna love this.”

Something about the way he says it makes me think I most definitely am not.

Sure enough, less thanfive minutes later, my stomach’s flying up my throat and my life is flashing before of my eyes.

“If we die, I’m going to kill you!” I shriek, and I can hear him laughing from the seat behind me, arms tight around my waist.

“We’re not going to die!”

“I think we might!”

For once, I’m glad he’s right, and we make it to the bottom of the hill with minimal damage save the makings of a not-insignificant bruise on my tailbone.

Bryan gets off, still way too gleeful, sticking a hand out for me to take. “See, I told you we wouldn’t break any bones.” I glare at him, letting him pull me up. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that yet.”

“Oh, so much rage in such a tiny, adorable little package,” he taunts.

He bumps me, and I immediately push him square in the chest,hard, making him trip back into yet another snowbank.

“So? What does the A stand for?” I ask, after he’s quit the whining and brushed the remainder of slush off his sweatpants, which I’m pleased to see now have wet splotches all over the knees—oh, and on his ass, too. I smother a laugh.

“I can’t believe you just—actually, yes, I can totally believe it, because you are an evil, sadistic woman,” Bryan says, pointing an accusing finger at me. “Anyway, like I was saying before you shoved me into the snowagain, I have two middle names, because I’m so special, and the second is Alejandro.”

I skip over the idiotic comment, and frown. “Isn’t that Hispanic?”

He sighs. “Yes.”

“But you’re…”

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