the hell should I know.” Tess’s voice is thick, as if someone’s playing a recording of her in slow motion. “He just got here.”
Definitely not talking about me. A flush rises in my cheeks. Since when did
I
become so egotistical?
“He might have just gone to public school before.”
“Who cares?” Tess hisses. “As long as he’s at least passably attractive. I could use some new scenery around here.”
“He’s more than passable,” Caroline confirms. “And he must have money, too, if his parents got him in this late in the year.”
So, there’s a new kid in our class. And apparently he’s quite dashing. Already a bigger conversation-starter than I am. Mr. Conway stands up and asks everyone to pass up their
assignments from last night. It’s sort of strange to be starting at a new school partway through senior year, though. Did he get in trouble? That has to be it. After spending a few minutes
pondering what dark past our new classmate must be harboring (drugs, probably, I decide), I go back to trying to listen to Mr. Conway explain limits and continuity, but mostly I just watch the rain
outside.
I’m startled out of my reverie by the sound of the door slamming. My elbow nearly falls off the edge and I sit up with a jolt.
“Shut up. He’s in our class,” Caroline says a bit too loudly.
“He sure is,” Tess whispers. “Somebody hand me a camera, because this suddenly became a room with a view.”
I pivot in my seat. There’s a boy. An oh-my-god-gorgeous boy. He takes long strides in a pair of faded blue Converse, laces untied—and not uniform-sanctioned—to the front of
the room, where he hands Mr. Conway a yellow slip of paper.
The sight of him makes me asthmatic. In a good way I didn’t know was possible. There’s a distinct tightening of the chest, like I’m battling the effects of a peanut
allergy.
“Sorry I’m late. Some confusion at the front office,” he says. Mr. Conway slides his reading glasses up to the bridge of his nose.
“Welcome, Mr.…” Conway holds the slip closer.
“Zin,” he offers. “Levi Zin, sir.”
Thick dark eyebrows frame his almond-shaped eyes, half-covered by slick black hair that hangs low over his forehead. He’s clinging to an end-of-summer tan that hints at liquid sunshine and
honey dripping off the comb. A damp polo sticks to his chest. I find myself wanting him to look at me so that I can grasp the whole picture at once. I have an idea that the full effect can’t
live up to the bits and pieces I’ve been cobbling together through sideways glimpses.
I lean forward on my elbows, hoping that I’m not too obvious, but not willing to be more discreet. One look, I tell him with my mind. A stray, stupid thought I’m sure I
wouldn’t have if I wasn’t so completely bored in class, but for now, it feels like a game. Notice me, I tell him.
“Please, take a seat. We’re on section five.” Mr. Conway gestures to an empty seat in the front row.
Levi turns, slipping his backpack off one shoulder. For a split second our eyes meet, and in that moment it’s like two streaks of lightning converge in the sky. My heart leaps out of my
throat and firmly attaches itself to him and I have a fleeting sensation that he read my mind.
He noticed.
“I heard he’s dreamy,” says Brynn, mouth stuffed full of Cool Ranch Doritos.
It’s just Brynn, Henry, and me at lunch today since Lydia’s switched over to her other group. It’s stopped raining for a second, which means the cafeteria is only half as
crowded as usual. I suppose we should be taking advantage of the “nice” weather in the quadrangle, too, only I guess I’m not as keen as the rest of my class to walk around the
rest of the day with the back of my khakis soaked through. After all, it’s still Seattle. Just because it’s not raining doesn’t mean it’s not wet.
“Okay, hold up. Do people say ‘dreamy’ anymore?” I ask while Henry makes a big show of pretending to
Definitely not talking about me. A flush rises in my cheeks. Since when did
I
become so egotistical?
“He might have just gone to public school before.”
“Who cares?” Tess hisses. “As long as he’s at least passably attractive. I could use some new scenery around here.”
“He’s more than passable,” Caroline confirms. “And he must have money, too, if his parents got him in this late in the year.”
So, there’s a new kid in our class. And apparently he’s quite dashing. Already a bigger conversation-starter than I am. Mr. Conway stands up and asks everyone to pass up their
assignments from last night. It’s sort of strange to be starting at a new school partway through senior year, though. Did he get in trouble? That has to be it. After spending a few minutes
pondering what dark past our new classmate must be harboring (drugs, probably, I decide), I go back to trying to listen to Mr. Conway explain limits and continuity, but mostly I just watch the rain
outside.
I’m startled out of my reverie by the sound of the door slamming. My elbow nearly falls off the edge and I sit up with a jolt.
“Shut up. He’s in our class,” Caroline says a bit too loudly.
“He sure is,” Tess whispers. “Somebody hand me a camera, because this suddenly became a room with a view.”
I pivot in my seat. There’s a boy. An oh-my-god-gorgeous boy. He takes long strides in a pair of faded blue Converse, laces untied—and not uniform-sanctioned—to the front of
the room, where he hands Mr. Conway a yellow slip of paper.
The sight of him makes me asthmatic. In a good way I didn’t know was possible. There’s a distinct tightening of the chest, like I’m battling the effects of a peanut
allergy.
“Sorry I’m late. Some confusion at the front office,” he says. Mr. Conway slides his reading glasses up to the bridge of his nose.
“Welcome, Mr.…” Conway holds the slip closer.
“Zin,” he offers. “Levi Zin, sir.”
Thick dark eyebrows frame his almond-shaped eyes, half-covered by slick black hair that hangs low over his forehead. He’s clinging to an end-of-summer tan that hints at liquid sunshine and
honey dripping off the comb. A damp polo sticks to his chest. I find myself wanting him to look at me so that I can grasp the whole picture at once. I have an idea that the full effect can’t
live up to the bits and pieces I’ve been cobbling together through sideways glimpses.
I lean forward on my elbows, hoping that I’m not too obvious, but not willing to be more discreet. One look, I tell him with my mind. A stray, stupid thought I’m sure I
wouldn’t have if I wasn’t so completely bored in class, but for now, it feels like a game. Notice me, I tell him.
“Please, take a seat. We’re on section five.” Mr. Conway gestures to an empty seat in the front row.
Levi turns, slipping his backpack off one shoulder. For a split second our eyes meet, and in that moment it’s like two streaks of lightning converge in the sky. My heart leaps out of my
throat and firmly attaches itself to him and I have a fleeting sensation that he read my mind.
He noticed.
“I heard he’s dreamy,” says Brynn, mouth stuffed full of Cool Ranch Doritos.
It’s just Brynn, Henry, and me at lunch today since Lydia’s switched over to her other group. It’s stopped raining for a second, which means the cafeteria is only half as
crowded as usual. I suppose we should be taking advantage of the “nice” weather in the quadrangle, too, only I guess I’m not as keen as the rest of my class to walk around the
rest of the day with the back of my khakis soaked through. After all, it’s still Seattle. Just because it’s not raining doesn’t mean it’s not wet.
“Okay, hold up. Do people say ‘dreamy’ anymore?” I ask while Henry makes a big show of pretending to
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