We arrive at school late.

Extremely late.

We had to stop for lunch.

She said she wasn’t hungry.

But I knew she was.

She wanted to go home.

I wouldn’t let her.

She didn’t argue.

She just said okay.

People stared at me.

At her.

At us.

We looked silly.

She had bruises on her face.

I had grass in my hair.

She didn’t ignore the stares.

She stared back at them.

My friends pulled me away from her.

They asked what the hell I was thinking.

They said I was an idiot.

And that the blonde girl was prettier.

But I liked her.

The girl with the crossed fingers.