"What happened to your eye, Ethe?" my ever-observant mother asks when I kiss her goodbye. "I don't remember seeing this injury last night."

I hoped to be off to rugby practice long before anybody else was up, but I took too long to leave Kira's room. I couldn't stop looking at her sleep, all innocent and sweet.

Yeah, I'm creepy like that.

Usually, only Mom is up when I get ready to leave. I've told her a million times that I can get my own breakfast; she doesn't have to get up so early to feed me. Day after day, while I'm upstairs getting dressed, she's down here in the kitchen making me something really good to eat - and people wonder why I'm such a Mama's boy!

Sometimes, she'll sit with me, and we'll chat while I eat; sometimes, she kisses me and goes back to bed; other times, like today, she has her coffee outside on the terrace, enjoying the early-morning cool breeze before the day gets hot. Today, she returned from having her coffee just as I put my dishes in the dishwasher after rushing upstairs to brush my teeth and grab my stuff. Dad and Deli joined her for their breakfast as if on cue.

That means that I'm late... really late.

"Did you smack yourself in the face again while you were shadow-boxing in front of the bathroom mirror?" Delia asks, dragging a chair into position so she can take her place at the kitchen table. It's a valid question; I have done that before... a few times...

"It's nothing, Mom," I assure my mother, and I mean it. It's just a scratch and a bruise... it looks worse than it feels and is a bit close to my eye, so it could've been bad, but it's really not. I've had worse just from saying hello to my friends. I don't know why it is being obnoxious, making my cheekbone look like I wrestled a cat... a big one. It doesn't even hurt much.

It's just annoying!

Smiling, I pat my mom on the head to show her how fine I am and am about to scratch her behind the ears and tell her she's a good girl, but she is still frowning at me. Instead, I drop my hand, kiss the top of her head and try to dodge past her to the kitchen door. I groan when my dad steps in my way, looking like he's about to make a puddle on the tile floor. What's wrong with my pets today?!

Maybe I should pat him on the head too... and scratch behind his ears...

"Did I do that?" he asks, looking horrified by the idea, and I'm about to say no when he runs his hand through his neatly combed blond hair, shaking his head. "I thought I saw the door bounce back from something last night when I ran up the stairs and pushed it open, but it was too dark to be sure. I'm so sorry, Ethe; I thought I'd imagined it. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it wasn't you. Besides, it's nothing! It's less than nothing." How is he even jumping to that correct conclusion so fast? Probably because he always assumes everything bad is his fault.

"Don't say it's nothing; it is really swollen!"

"It will be down by lunchtime," I grumble, starting to get irritated now. "Besides, it wasn't you who did it... it was the door... because it was being a little bitch... and got in my way."

"Ethan..."

"Seriously, Dad, I'm going to be late, and then Coach will make me run laps again... that will be worse than this little scratch," I tell him in all sincerity because it's true, and I really don't want to get into any discussions with my dad this morning. I can see that he feels bad about last night. He'll apologise for all the wrong things, and then we'll end up fighting again about the things he didn't apologise for. Things like wanting to send me to Hummelton.

This scratch is nothing; sending me to Hummelton is everything.

"I'll drop you off," he says decisively, aiming for the hook on the wall that holds his car keys and with an irritated grunt, I try to reach the door again. I don't want him to drop me off. I'll be trapped in the car for a full three minutes and 12 seconds while he goes on and on and on about Hummelton University.

I'm supposed to go to the city centre with him early tomorrow morning to help with last-minute construction work for the festival. At this rate, I will have to dodge him constantly then too. Usually, I love building things with my dad, but I don't think tomorrow's project will be any fun. I wish I could bail, but I can't; he's counting on me.

Dad and I used to be so close... I miss that.

"Ethe," he says, getting in my way again, and the look on his face is making me feel really bad now. Isn't he supposed to make me feel better? I'm the one who got hurt, after all. Why is he looking so bummed out?

"It's okay, Dad," I say, smiling my best don't-ground-me-for-breaking-a-window... again... smile. I'm good at it because I had many chances to use it over the years. "I'm fine. Please relax, sit, have breakfast, flirt with your wife, and fondle your daughter."

"What?" he says with a confused look on his face and now I know I've probably not said what I meant to say.

"Your brain and your mouth really need to get back on speaking terms, Ethe," Delia giggles and I give her an example of my best snarly face as a reward. It doesn't scare her; she just laughs harder.

"That thing you do where she sits on your lap and tickles your beard while you tell her she's the most wonderful daughter in the world, and she says, 'Oooh, Daddy, you're the bestest-estest daddy ever!' That thing," I clarify for my dad, who is studying my face as if he's searching for cracks in my foundation.

Yes, I made up a pretty cool voice for Delia, but all she can do is just glare at me now. No appreciation whatsoever.

"I don't have a beard," my father says, still looking confused, but at least he seems to have forgotten about my bruise for now. Divide and confuse! The best strategy in the book for war! My mom is sitting in her seat at the table, and she's either crying into her hands or her eyes just sprung a leak. If it weren't for the snorting laugh-sounds coming from her, I would've been worried now.

"We haven't done that in almost ten years," Delia informs me, laughing now too.

"I've never had a beard," my dad says, confusion still solidly planted on his face. Apparently, the beard is the part of the scenario he cannot wrap his mind around.

"Bonding!" I exclaim, snapping the fingers of the hand not carrying my gym bag, when the right word charges into my brain and bursts out of my mouth. "Go bond with your daughter!"

I think my father is still in the mood to argue with me. I'm pretty sure this is going to turn into another fight, so I yank open the kitchen door, almost smacking myself in the eye again - now, wouldn't that have been awesome - I hoist Kira's and my school bags higher onto my shoulders and make my escape.

To my joy, Coach doesn't make me run laps. He just makes some weird remarks about worms and birds that get up early, and I really don't like worms. Worms are pretty gross. Why is he talking about worms when I've just had breakfast and a really fast run all the way to school?! I'm already this close to puking.

Today is our last practice before the long weekend, so he decides to help us not lose our edge while we're goofing off and picking our noses... honestly, the man has the worst way with words. He's the one who should get his mouth and brain on speaking terms, not me!

To keep that edge, which I'm not sure we had in the first place - unless it's the thing where I grab Jet in a headlock for constantly poking me in the ribs - Coach decides to make us do some drills. Great, I'm not running laps; I'm running back and forth over the length of the rugby field, in line with other players - one line of 7 and one of 8 - passing the ball from one end of the line to the other and back. Over and over and over, making sure we never pass the ball forward.

Then, it's time for some scrum practice, followed by fun with lineouts. By the time he lets us out of our misery, it's hot, and I'm ready to die. I'm so tired that I don't even try to pull Lurch down when he gives me a hand up from where I'm lying on the ground, waiting to decompose. I also don't jump on Barn's back for a ride to the locker room. His back is too damn big, and I'm too exhausted to jump.

I nearly collapse when Burlap puts his arm around my shoulders to help himself stay upright; apparently, he's completely wiped out too.

"What have you been up to last night?" I ask him, reaching out to Jet for support, but the guy is made of wet paper today and just melts away under my weight, taking Lurch with him. And now the four of us are lying in a heap on the grass, and this time, we're not even doing it on purpose to have a brawl.

"What's going on with you guys?" Barn wants to know, standing straight and firm, the picture of I-slept-well-last-night, looking down at the rest of us, just lying there at his feet, all broken, picking out animal shapes in the clouds.

It's probably not clouds I'm seeing, but sweat running into my eyes because nobody else is seeing the animal shapes I'm pointing out. Jet asks me if I've taken my pills today - no, I don't know which pills he means - Lurch is just grunting incoherently, and I think Burlap has fallen asleep.

It takes Barn a few minutes to pull us up, one by one, because we're dead weights. This time, we don't try to lean on each other again. Barn ran away to prevent us from hanging onto him, so we had to face the battle one-on-one. We do, however, make it into the dressing room, pleased to see that most of our other teammates are in the same sad state as we are. Nobody is messing with anybody today and after an awesome shower, I start to feel alive again.

Also, Kira will be here any minute now!

I find her on her way to her first class for the day. At first, I just watch her from afar - yes, we've established that I'm creepy - because with the way the sunlight breaks around her, picking highlights in her hair and her skirt moves slightly in the gentle breeze, she seems to float like a celestial being.

I think I might've hit my head too hard during practice because I sound like friggin' Simon!

"Hey," I grin, wrapping an arm around Kira's shoulders and turning her towards me so that I can kiss her before I explode. She doesn't resist; she actually responds to me, and it is turning into our best kiss so far, and in public, no less! I think I'm breaking the rules in the spreadsheet again, but I'm struggling to remember them while I feel her lips, soft and moist, moving against mine.

I'm covered in goosebumps by the time I finally pull away before I really put on a show that I haven't even sold any tickets for. I fully expect Kira to slap me, but instead, she is looking up at me with wide eyes that somehow seem almost black and sparkling with stars right now.

Did I break her?

"Thanks for last night," I mutter breathlessly, running the tips of my fingers down her soft cheek to her chin. I'm trembling slightly, but I sure as hell am not cold, though my hair is still refreshingly wet. I'm not entirely sure, but I think Kira is trembling too.

"You're welcome," she clears her throat to say after the longest time while I wait for her lecture that never comes. I don't think she knows what she's saying, but I'll take it.

"Good to know," I smile, cocking an eyebrow. "Mr Big Bear? Seriously?" I grin, tugging playfully on one of her two short braids. She really looks extra cute today, and I'm struggling not to pick her up and carry her away with me to... somewhere... I can't think much further than the picking up and carrying part right now. Most of my brain cells have migrated South, and it's not even winter.

"I needed something to occupy all those limbs of yours," she shrugs. "They were becoming distracting."

A warm blush starts in her cheeks and spreads to the rest of her face, dying her an endearing pink. She shifts awkwardly, glancing around. I know we're drawing attention from the students hurrying along the walkway to their classes, but I'm struggling to care about that right now. How can I when Kira's skin is so soft under my fingers, and her eyes draw me into their depths?

Today, I'm going to drown on dry ground in Kira's eyes.

Seriously, I need to write these down and give them to Kicks so she can either slap me out of my delirium or praise me for being a poetic soul like Simon.

"Oh, Kicks, I can think of so many fun ways you could have used to occupy my limbs that do not involve a massive bear-"

Nope, I'm definitely not Simon; I'm still me, and I deserved the punch to my stomach that makes me end my sentence in the middle. Cool! The lessons I gave her on how to make a fist and give a punch paid off, but she wasn't supposed to use those lessons on me!

Being in school today is a total waste of time. Nobody is working, not even the teachers. We're all just goofing off and getting up to no good. It would've been kinder - on the teachers - just to give us the whole day off.

Tomorrow is Founder's Day; it feels like the last day of the semester, just before the holiday starts. It's not, but it feels that way. Only Ms Tidwell, the sour chemistry teacher, who always finds a reason to take away my toys... uhm... the lab equipment I'm using, insists on boring us with an actual lesson. Does she really think anybody is paying attention? I can see kids (not just me) fidgeting all over the place, and two are actually sleeping with their eyes open... one of them might be me.

In the classes of teachers who actually still have their souls, we are mostly allowed to keep ourselves busy as long as we're not too noisy or break down the class. Deli is working on the headbands we will wear for the boat race tomorrow, and Kira is being seriously boring by trying to read a book. She can do that anytime and almost anywhere, but not now! I drag my chair over until I'm close enough to lay my head on her open book and ask her to scratch my head, which she does... a bit violently.

"Seriously, you're just like Scamp!" she compliments me when I keep turning the pages in her book while she's still reading them. Burlap is just as bad as she is, but I won't disturb him when he's reading. He either won't notice, or he will casually kick my chair out from under me or smack me in the head without even looking up from his book.

I'm speaking from experience.

Messing with Kicks while she's trying to read in EVERY CLASS is much more fun and safer. She just beats me up with her book while her eyes send sparks at me. I so want to kiss her again; it's becoming sheer torture to be this close to her and not do it.

Okay, maybe messing with Burlap is safer after all.

The only classes that are not sheer torture are the one or two with my other friends in it. Barn doesn't just sit and read or sew like a civilized human being - Kira's words. He chats with me like the good buddy he is, and we play Red Hands, a game only the very brave or the very stupid would dare to play with him. I remember that when I almost lose a hand during our game.

He is, of course, more concerned over the large bag of crisps that went flying when he slapped my hand almost through the desktop. His precious snack got stuck behind a cabinet in the front of the class, far, far away from us. Since I'm also a good buddy, I brave our teacher's wrath by lying down and twisting myself into a pretzel, squeezing into the narrow gap between the cabinet and the wall. It's the only way to reach the packet, and Barn is too big to fit in here.

I fish it out, dead hand and all, and Barn gives a happy laugh when he has the love of his life in his arms again. The crisps, not me. Grinning a bright, toothy grin, he opens the packet and holds it out to me to help myself.

Barn is a kind soul who knows how to reward his heroes.

Deli dedicatedly had my back today, and not by poking me with a needle or flicking me in the forehead. She steadfastly ignored Kira's pleas for her to sort me out and reign me in, pretending to be fully focused on stitching the bandannas. I did not miss the amused grin she tried to hide nor her giggles.

When noon finally arrives and school lets out for the long weekend (see, a total waste of the morning), we cannot leave fast enough, gathering at the gate the way we always do.

"Are you sure you don't want me to give you a ride to the turtle sanctuary?" I ask Kira, putting my hands on her waist to keep her from running off - the critters at the sanctuary can wait for a minute. I won't nag her not to go and swim with us at the waterfall instead because I know how important her part-time volunteer job is to her, and she's looking forward to being there a bit earlier than usual.

"Thanks, Ethy," she smiles, and she's not breaking out of my grasp, which is a good sign... I think. "I'll be fine taking the bus; it stops right in front of the sanctuary."

I knew that, of course; I just wanted to take care of her and be with her a bit longer, but a swim right now is exactly what I need. I'm hot and with this morning's exhaustion completely gone now, I have too much energy to burn. Besides, Kira probably needs a break from my brand of care after dealing with me all morning.

"Leave your bag with me, okay?" I smile, letting go with one hand to tuck a strand of loose hair behind her ear. "I'll take it home."

"That will be great, thanks, Ethy," she smiles, and when I lower my face to hers to kiss her goodbye, she doesn't try to dodge or squirm away; she quietly awaits the arrival of my lips, shyly responding to them even though my friends (Jet and Lurch) are making stupid noises to tease us.

"Swim!" Jet belows, slapping me on the back when the kiss lasts too long for his patience to handle. I reluctantly let Kira go so she can hurry home, and I can go drown Jet for being such a friggin' pain in my... well... back, this time.

The crowd spends an hour or so splashing around, jumping from the waterfall and sitting around talking garbage and then our empty stomachs chase us to our homes. I'm feeling a bit lonely, walking home with Deli and Simon, listening to them making plans for the weekend while holding hands.

For five seconds, I consider jumping on the bus and heading to the turtle sanctuary, but fortunately, I have the self-discipline of a Spartan. When we reach home, and Deli and Simon enter our yard, I open the gate to the Crofts' to deliver Kira's schoolbag like the good boyfriend I am.

After leaving her bag in their house, I enter our yard through the gap between the Flretcher's property and ours and see the flowerbeds struggling bravely in the heat. This reminds me that my dad asked me if I would water the garden after school today.

Afraid I'll forget again in the next few minutes, I hurry into our house to drop my bags, change into old clothes, and put my school uniform and rugby gear in the wash. I'm standing by the kitchen counter, looking out at the backyard, while I eat a toasted cheese sandwich, when Deli wraps her arms around me from behind.

She and Simon made our snack today, and he'd just left to get ready for whatever they had planned for later today. I don't care what it is; my spying days are over now.

"I don't want you to go to Hummelton, either, you know," she says, resting her cheek against my back. "I think I'll go there too if you go."

"You can't leave Kicks here alone!" I exclaim, both pleased and frustrated by her words, and turn in her arms to face her. "Besides, you love it here as much as I do." She'll be heartbroken if she has to leave for long periods of time.

"Seriously, do you think Kicks will let us go to Hummelton without her?" she snorts, looking up at me with her chin pressed against my chest.

"Then Uncle Joe will be alone," I mutter, wrapping my arms around her head, suffocating her until she squirms and pinches me in my side.

"Dad will come around," she says, stepping out of my reach in case I decide to retaliate. I don't. Instead, I pop the last piece of my sandwich into my mouth, give her a double-handed hang loose sign and head into the garden to attack the plants with some water.

My eyes keep on straying to Kira's bedroom window while I unwind the garden hose, though I know she's not home yet. Seriously, I thought I would be less obsessed with her when we're finally dating, but it's getting worse. I didn't know when we started this that I would just keep on loving her more and more. Soon, my heart is going to explode, and that is going to be really messy.

I don't want to be the one to clean that up. I honestly don't know how crime scene cleaners manage to do that gruesome job. The idea of wiping up exploded hearts and vomit - my own - is making me feel queasy, so I direct the hose's nozzle away from the flowers I'm watering to spray myself instead.

"As if you weren't hot enough already," a voice calls me from my increasingly disturbing thoughts, and I look up to see Amber Dyson sitting on the brick fence separating our yard from her grandmother's.

Right, it's a long weekend; she would be here.

♂♀