Page 7 of Kiss Collector
His face goes a little slack. “The Bronx, yeah.”
I’m rapt. “Let me read it. Please?” I may or may not tilt my head cutely and pout with duck lips.
His eyes go straight to my mouth and he pauses, wavering. Yes! Dean is not immune to my charms! His hand wavers over his paper before he suddenly puffs out his chest in defiance.“Not unless I can read yours.”
Dang it! I really wanted to find out about that girl. I think her name was Jenna. The name was far too sweet for her, though. Rumor was, she’d been sent to live with her aunt and uncle here in Virginia to avoid being put in the New York foster-care system. She’d had a wicked accent and a permanent badass scowl. I never officially met her since we didn’t have any classes together, and before I knew it she’d been sent back to New York. She got in two fights during the four months she was here, and the only person she ever talked to was Dean. Rumor also had it that they “did it.” A lot.
“Okay, class!” Mrs. Warfield called. “Let’s wrap it up. The bell’s about to ring. Place your poems on my desk as you leave.”
I give Dean a fake angry glare, letting him know he wins the battle this time but I’m not done with him. He chuckles.
“Whatever, girl. You’re too cute to scare me.”
I stop glaring. Dean Prescott just called me cute. He’s always been friendly, but never flirtatious. Before I can think of any joking comeback, the bell rings and Dean is out of his seat, moving toward the door.
I notice with some satisfaction that his ears are, once again, tinged red.
Chapter Three
Idrive Lin, Monica, and Kenzie home from school. Lin doesn’t have a license yet. Monica’s mom only has one car. And Kenzie ran over her family’s mailbox the first week she got her license, so she’s scared to drive now. That was three months ago. As long as they’re not too embarrassed to be seen in the fourteen-year-old minivan that sometimes sputters when it starts, I’m happy to keep giving them rides.
I drop them at their houses and drive to my neighborhood of crammed-together brick-and-siding town houses just as my brother, Zebby, is getting off the middle school bus. I wave when I see his curly brown hair, and he trots over. Each day I give him a ride to our home around the corner, at the end of the street. We live in an old neighborhood bordering some of the only forests in the county that haven’t been torn down for more houses and stores.
Zeb slumps in the passenger seat and crosses his arms, staring out the window.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask. “Hey, put your seat belt on.”
“Seriously? We’re only driving for a minute.”
“Have you seen how some of the crazies drive around here? Why are you so grumpy?”
His response is an incoherent grumble.
I pull into a visitor’s spot down the street, since our parents use our two assigned numbered spots. I wish we had a garage. Sometimes I have to park two streets away and run through the rain. Zeb reaches for his door handle, but I grab his arm.
“Tell me what happened,” I say gently.
He huffs out a loud breath. “This kid on my bus is a dickwad!”
Whoa. “Don’t saydickwad. What’d he do?”
“Every day on the bus he’s like, ‘Dude, your sister’s so hot. When you gonna hook me up?’ And when I tell him to shut up, he laughs and keeps going. Talking about all the stuff he wants to... you know... do to you.”
Ah, one ofthoseboys. I want to laugh at the thought of this middle schooler who thinks he’s got game, but I hold back because Zeb is too out of sorts. His cheeks are splotchy with anger. Aw, my cute, protective little bro.
“Who is it?” I ask.
“Rob.”
“Weren’t you on the track team with that kid? I thought you guys were solid.”
“Yeah, we were. Kinda. He’s always had a big mouth, though.”
“Zebby, you need to ignore that idiot. He’s just trying to piss you off. He knows exactly how to get to you and he thinks it’s funny. Some people are like that.”
Zeb grinds his teeth together. “I’m gonna kick his ass someday. I swear.”
I rumple his hair and open the door. “Don’t sayass. And you better not get in a fight. That sh— stuff will follow you.” I climb out, silently vowing that if I ever see that little Rob creep I’ll kick his ass myself.
