SKYLAR SQUEALED.

      "She did that in front of the whole school," I said in disbelief. "She just . . ."

     "Came out to every single student and teacher all at once?" Skylar was practically bouncing, hyper. "Genius."

      The school speakers cut off, and we were left in silence. The girls in our gym class were still a little wide-eyed.

       Our teacher, a balding man in a neon-orange tracksuit, barked, "What are you waiting for? Five laps! Get going!"

       He seemed a little flustered.

       Skylar dragged me through the open door of the gymnasium, onto the field. The other girls were already speeding up into a jog, giggling. Figures. The boys' gym class was on the opposite end of the field, and they were peeling off their shirts.

      The sky was bright, the kind of silky blue that promised the end of summer.

       "Catch a look at that,"  Skylar whispered. "I didn't know Aaron was ripped."

       I hadn't been paying attention to the boys across the field, but―

       She was right. Aaron lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing carved ab muscles. It was probably from the football.

       I shrugged. "He's athletic."

       Monroe's clear, confident voice was still ringing in my ears. I like girls. Get over it. 

       Who had the fucking guts to announce that over the school announcements?

       And her piercing green eyes . . . this morning, the way she had slung one long, lean leg over the side of her motorcycle. The way she had shaken her black hair out of the helmet . . . 

       There was something hypnotic about that memory. Something attractive.

       Attractive?

       What?

      "But―" Skylar stopped jogging and grabbed my shoulders. "Hello? Earth to Talia? Don't you see that? Come on. I thought half-naked boys were your type. You certainly sing about them."

       "I don't sing about them," I said immediately. "I'm the drummer."

      "Same difference."

      "Tara is the singer, not me. And Hannah is the one who comes up with the lyrics."

      "Okay, whatever. Your band is boy-crazy either way. Unless . . ."

      "Why are you trailing off suggestively like that?"

      "Unless . . . you're not straight. Something you want to tell me? Because this morning, I swear to God you were staring at Monroe Kingston's ass."

       "Staring at Monroe's ass!" Shit. My face was turning red. "Are you―I wasn't―you―I―"

       "Ladies! You're far behind the other girls! Catch up!" 

       When I looked behind us, Coach Roberts was wheezing. His neon orange tracksuit reminded me of those traffic cones.

       Skylar was still staring me down, so I started running.

       "Come on! No time to talk!"

       I had gone two more laps when Skylar finally caught up to me, breathless, and said something that made me stop in my tracks.

       "Listen, I think Aaron likes you."

       "What?"

       "He keeps looking at you, all heart-eyes. And he finds, like, every excuse to touch you. I know you guys are pretty close . . . but you'd tell me if you and Aaron were secretly dating, right?"

       Secretly dating Aaron?

       I laughed with all the confidence I didn't feel. "You're insane, Skylar. There's no way."

       Almost subconsciously, my eyes drifted across the field. The boys were warming up for a match of football.

      Aaron's eyes locked on mine.

      He smiled, just a little.

      And for a second, I swore I could see what Skylar was talking about. Heart-eyes . . . 

      Fuck.

     MATH CLASS USUALLY MADE  me want to die, but this was a whole new level of suicidal.

     We were waiting for a supply teacher―considering our actual math teacher had had a stroke―so it didn't surprise me when the door opened.

      Whoever the supply teacher was, they were late. I had already snapped three pencils.

       "Hey," whispered Joshua Reynard from behind me. "Isn't there that rule where if the teacher doesn't show up after fifteen minutes we can leave?"

       I hesitated, but Samantha Atkins answered for me. "No, that's a fake rule. Idiot."

       When the door opened, I turned back in my seat.

       "Hey, class. Sorry I'm late."

       Monroe's green eyes glinted with wicked mischief. 

       Every thought in my head vanished.

       "I'm your supply teacher," Monroe said, full of calm, unrelenting swagger. "So, class. I hear we're learning math?"

        "SHE GOT KICKED OUT AFTER  forty minutes by the real supply teacher, but God, she has balls."

         "She just . . . waltzed into your math classroom and taught you math?"

         "Um. Yeah." To be honest, I had no idea what Monroe had done in those forty minutes. I was entirely too flustered at the sight of her, less than six feet away from me, to pay attention to anything that happened. "Anyways, let's talk about―" I cleared my throat. "Something else."

         "How about our September goal?" 

         "September goal . . ." Shit. I had forgotten about that. "Kiss a stranger, right?"

         "Yes,"  Skylar emphasized. "Let's pick our stranger."

         "No!" 

          Wait, had that come from me?

          Cody, Aaron, and Skylar had all swiveled to look at me.

          Yeah, that had definitely come from me.

          "I mean, shouldn't we just let it . . . happen naturally?" That sounded lame even to my own years. Kissing a stranger naturally? The fuck?

          Cody just cupped my face with one hand, squeezing my cheeks. "You're so cute, Talia. Now, I call dibs on Brady from the football team."

         "Brady?" Aaron seemed dumbfounded. "The quarterback?"

         "Yeah," Cody said dreamily, his eyes drifting across the cafeteria to the muscular, brown-skinned boy laughing with his friends. "I just know he's not straight. And I've never spoken a word to him."

        "No, you can't," Aaron said unexpectedly.

        "Why not?"

        "He's―off-limits. He's definitely straight. You shouldn't."

        Cody pouted. "Are you sure?"

        "Positive."

        "Fine, then I want to kiss . . . ooh, Teagen Ray."

        Skylar high-fived Cody, whistling appreciatively. Teagan Ray was a cute girl with yellow glasses and a turtle sweater.

        I stared at Aaron for a second longer, and he looked at me, confused. What?  he mouthed.

        Nothing, I mouthed back.

        For some reason, the colour green had come to mind.

        Just as Skylar announced, "I want to kiss Monroe Kingston."

        I might have said something, but it was entirely incoherent. More like an unintelligent stream of, "You―uh―um―I―her―you―"

        Skylar only beamed, flipping back strands of her purple-pink hair. "How about you, Aaron?"

        "Talia, something wrong?" Aaron said, concerned.

        Skylar narrowed her eyes on him. "Aaron, stop avoiding the question."

        Aaron shrugged. "I guess I'll kiss Lucy Windfield?"

        "The blonde bimbo cheerleader?"

        "Yeah, why not? She's nice."

        Skylar hissed. "Try evil."

        Cody turned to focus on me just as I managed to regain my composure. "How about you, Talia? Who's your stranger?"

        Okay, so maybe I hadn't regained my composure. My tongue was refusing to work.

        Why did the thought of Skylar kissing Monroe set me on fire? I didn't even know Monroe. If anything, shouldn't I be happy for Skylar?

        Oh, fuck. Was I a bad friend?

        "Talia!"

        "Ah―uh―yes."

        "Who are you going to kiss?"

        "I don't know."

        "Come on, there has to be someone. What about Todd, isn't he cute? Or Ferris? He got back over the summer and, my God, did you see the abs on him?"

        Aaron crushed a juice box with one hand at that, but I only stood up suddenly from the table.

       "On second thought, I don't feel so good. I―bathroom."

       And with that, I rushed off.

       I FOUND JORDANA IN THE BATHROOM, which would have been fine, except I was a disaster.

      Jordana Scofield was the lead singer of our band―which we still hadn't named yet―and she was one of my friends. Granted, I wasn't as close with my bandmates as I was with Skylar and Cody and Aaron, but I liked her.

      "Hey, Talia―oh, my God, are you okay?"

     "Yeah, I'm―" I swallowed. "Fine. Totally fine. Yeah."

      Maybe it was convincing, because she just said, "Ready for practice after school? We're meeting in Olivia's garage."

      "Yeah," I said, swallowing again. "Cool. Cool, no problem."

      She smiled. "See you later, alright?"

      As soon as she pushed open the bathroom door to leave, I was in front of the sink. My hands were shaking.

      At the last moment, she turned back. I froze.

     "Hey, Talia, what do you think of Duck Duck Goose?"

     As a band name. Right. "Probably not?"

     She shrugged before leaving. "Yeah, I didn't think so either."

     THIS STUPID, FUCKING LOCKER wouldn't open. For fuck's sake.

     After saying goodbye to Aaron, Cody, and Skylar―and letting them know I wouldn't be at Aaron's house to hangout because of band practice―I was still in the empty hallway. My locker wouldn't open.

     "You were working this morning," I scolded in a low voice. "So why don't you just open right now and stop being a little bitch?"

     "Excuse me?"

     I spun around so fast the speed of light would be jealous.

     Today could not possibly get any worse.

     Monroe's green eyes were bright. "Hey, don't I know you? You were one of my . . . students this morning."

     I knew the suggestive way she said students was only because she wasn't a real teacher. But it made my heartbeat rocket up anyway.

     Maybe if I could just say something . . .

     When it became clear the words weren't coming, Monroe added, "Having a little bit of trouble?"

      Trouble? Did she mean how I had pretty much been having wet dreams about her for a week? Was that it? 

      No, she meant my locker.

      "Yeah," I blurted out. "I've been having trouble with my locker." And my sexuality. 

      Her eyes widened. 

      Had I just said that out loud?

      Had I just said I was having trouble with my sexuality?

      Out loud?

      In front of Monroe Kingston?

      The only option left now was to, simply, die.

      Okay, fine, I didn't die.

      But I did spontaneously combust.

      Okay, that didn't happen either.

      I was really beginning to wish the earth would open up and swallow me whole. The way things were going, that didn't seem likely. So I blurted out, "I mean, I've just been thinking about girls in general and it's not like I'm gay or anything, I was just thinking that maybe I wasn't straight because there are a lot of things that don't add up, like how I'm scared in the girls' locker room or how I have to purposely avoid looking at girl bodies because I don't want them to think I'm weird or that I'm coming on to them, which is silly because, you know, I've had a boyfriend and it's not like I don't like boys, I think they're a little repulsive, but doesn't every girl, really? And what I really wish is that I could make sure and I just want to kiss a girl, maybe, because hopefully that'll clear things up, but it's not like it matters and―" Oh, my God.

       Did I really just . . . say that?

       "I'll just get going." Fuck the locker. Fuck the stupid lock. Fuck my homework. Fuck the trigonometry test tomorrow. "Yeah. I'll just . . . leave now."

       Monroe was still staring at me, her green eyes unreadable.

       She thinks I'm a loser. She thinks I'm an idiot. She―

       She took two steps towards me, pushed me back against the locker, and kissed me.