Fallout (Crank 3)

because there’s a new guy,

sitting across from my regular

seat. He’s not like model pretty

or anything, but he is extremely

cute in a boy-next-door sort

of way, with sun-streaked hair

and dark eyes and cheeks that

dimple when he smiles. Smiles.

At me. My face goes hot as I slide

into my chair, wishing I had the slightest

clue how to flirt. I don’t. Never tried

it. I can barely manage to smile back.

And when his grin widens at my obvious

discomfort and he whispers, Hi, I think

I might just curl up in a little ball,

roll away into a corner, and die.

IT’S NOT LIKE

I’ve never been attracted

to a guy before. I’m a normal,

healthy heterosexual girl.

Okay, not totally normal,

which is why guys aren’t exactly

fighting over me. Pretty much

everyone here knows my tale

of woe. Who wants to date a loser

who uses words like “woe,” and lives

with her grandfather because

her parents shuffle in and out

of jail, for cripes’ sake?

Aunt Cora says if I’d just carry