by Seven Steps
I adjusted the camera on my shoulder and walked into the room. My eyes went to Mr. Walters. He was in the same position I’d left him in: reclined at his desk, script in hand.
“Am I too late for the virgin mojitos?” I asked.
He shot up in his chair, his hand going to his heart.
“Hey, look who’s back! Mrs. Scarlet Letter herself.”
“In my defense, my A was not deserved.”
He stood and squeezed me into a side hug. “Good to have you back.”
I hugged him back. “Thanks.”
“Megera!” Poppy slammed into me, nearly throwing me backward before I found my balance. “Thank God you’re back! My camera broke!”
She held up the camera as evidence. It didn’t look broken, but for some reason, there was duct tape around the middle of it.
“When did your camera break?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. When did you leave? It was right after that.”
I laughed.
“Please be head cinematographer again. I can’t live with so much pressure!”
“Well, I think that’s a decision for Mr. Walters.”
“You were hired back the minute you walked through the door,” he said quickly. “And please, never leave us again. Poppy can’t even spell cinematographer.”
Poppy nodded. “It’s true.”
Sarah sidled up next to me. “Welcome back, stranger.”
Sarah. I’d missed her so much the entire time I was away. “No jokes for me?” I asked.
“Maybe later. Caleb’s been helping me out, but not all of his jokes are appropriate for high school students.”
Caleb looked up from his bean bag and jerked his head in my direction.
“That hasn’t stopped her from laughing at them,” he said.
“No, no, no!” Madeline screamed. Sophia and Homer were still standing on desks, rehearsing their lines, while Madeline looked red enough to explode. “Dear God, please send me actors—not you, Sophia. You’re amazing. It’s your co-star. He’s delivering his lines like he’s a backyard wrestler.”
Homer glared at her. “It’s called intensity.”
“It’s called buffoonery!” Madeline screamed back.
Yup, I’d missed this place, more than I could say.
After club ended, I walked back out into the hallway, camera in hand.
Suddenly, someone lifted me from behind. My legs flew up, and my camera went flying.
I screamed.
“No!”
The camera traveled in an arc through the air and I held my breath, waiting for it to hit the floor with a crash. Then a body slid across the floor on its back, catching my camera in its chest seconds before it made impact and shattered.
“Hey! Great hands, Summers!” Julius shouted from behind me. He put me down on my feet, and I turned to him and glared—well, tried to glare. The second our eyes met, I knew I couldn’t be mad at him for too long.
“Sorry babe,” he said. “Good thing Josh was around.”
“Yeah, good thing.”
I punched him in the arm, and he pulled me into a hug, crushing me against him.
It was my favorite place to be.
“How was film club?” he asked, slowly releasing his grip on me.
“I’m glad to be back.”
“And I’m sure they’re glad to have you.”
He smiled at me. I knew what that meant. His hands went from my waist to my neck, and I tipped my chin up for a kiss.
Julius’ kisses—I could write an entire book about them. They were warm and gentle and perfect, just like him.
Oh wait—my camera!
I reluctantly pulled away from Julius’ lips and searched behind me.
There it was, still in the hands of Joshua Summers—or, rather, he was looking into the viewfinder while Poppy Pritchett was showing him how to use the buttons.
And looking rather cozy doing it, too.
“Looks like Summers made a new friend,” Julius said with a grin.
“Looks like it.” I pulled the camera from her hands, and I didn’t think they even noticed.
Hand in hand, we walked out the school doors and to Julius’ car. He held the door for me, and I climbed in. The car was old and beat-up, but I loved it. The seats were comfortable, and it smelled amazing, just like him.
I buckled up and waited for Julius to climb into the car and do the same. We clasped fingers and he kissed my knuckles.
“Where to Coats?” he asked.
“Tacos?”
He grinned. “Tacos!”
The car sped forward into the setting sun.
“A little music for the lady?” he asked.
“Why not?”
He turned on the radio and a familiar song came on: “Quit Playing Games With My Heart” by the Backstreet Boys.
It was our song. We sped through the city, laughing and singing our heads off, just me and my Golden Boy.
I’ve never been happier.
The End
Rebels, Love Letters, and the Secret Crush
1
PETER
In retrospect, it was a bad plan.
I, Peter Swift, would wait for Wendy Darling, my dream girl, to walk out of after school fencing practice. When she arrived at her locker, I’d hold up my sign, asking her to choose me for the Winter Formal choosing ceremony. Xander and Xavier, my younger twin brothers, would each hand her a bouquet of roses while Barry Jackson sang the chorus of “Life Support” by Sam Smith, accompanied by Hunter Rosinski on the violin.
It’d taken a hundred bucks to bribe Hunter to play in a non-school sanctioned activity. We were friends, but Hunter was one of those play by the rules sort of guys. The kind that thinks spontaneity was a dirty word. Luckily for me, his sense of self-preservation had a price.
Barry’s voice had cost me five times what I’d paid Hunter. Apparently, Barry could sing on YouTube in front of millions of people for free, but I — his best friend since kindergarten — had to pay. He called it a “personal appearance” fee. Whatever. I didn’t care.
Wendy was worth the risk.
She was worth everything.
You have to understand that Wendy Darling’s the perfect girl. She’s smart, funny, insanely beautiful, not to mention kind, patient, and crazy good with a sword. There’s just one problem: to her, I don’t exist.
She’s never looked at me or said my name or even brushed by me in the hallway. We’ve never shared a class—except lunch—and I’ve never danced with her at a party. We weren’t even close to being in the same social circle.
But those things didn’t matter because Wendy Darling was meant to be mine, and after today, she was going to finally see me. That’s all I wanted—for Wendy Darling to see me.
The hallways of St. Mary’s Academy were silent, save for my ragged breathing and racing heart. I watched the red hand tick around the clock above Gym A’s blue double doors. The gazillion and one after-school clubs were still in session, and would be for another twenty seconds.
Nineteen seconds.
Eighteen seconds.
Seventeen.
Sixteen seconds until my life would change forever.
And it was all because of her.
I was glad it was because of her.
The bell rang, and my heart echoed its harsh clangs. My throat dried to desert levels, and my armpits and hands leaked sweat, making the white board I held slippery. I wiped my hands on my jeans, one at a time, and searched the crowd for the heart-shaped face and deep blue eyes I’d dreamed about for three years.
She wasn’t yet among the students strolling out of their classrooms and into the hallway. No one seemed to be in a particular rush. Regular school was work, but afterschool programs were more about socializing and sports. People participated for the comradery and the love of something, not just for a grade.
A few people slowed down their already turtle-like pace to examine my sign, or the flowers my brothers were holding. Walter Bra
dley threw a rolled-up paper ball at Hunter before laughing and jogging away. Barry tucked the mike in his pocket, making him the most inconspicuous one in our little group. My gut was so twisted up I thought I’d puke right there in the hallway.
Don’t puke, I begged my nervous stomach. Please don’t puke.
After several insanely long minutes, two familiar faces strutted out of Gym A. Moira D’Angelo and Angela Washington. They were Wendy’s best friends, not to mention the permanent arm candy of Wendy’s gargantuan brothers John and Michael Darling.
Moira and Angela looked more like supermodels then students with their perfect makeup and fitted, trendy clothes. They even wore heels, which I think is hot but completely impractical in a high school setting. I mean, they’re just asking for broken ankles.
Their eyes swung to the flowers in the twins’ hands, then to Barry’s mostly hidden mic, Hunter’s violin, and finally, my sign. Their perfect lips rose in derisive smiles. Then they giggle behind their hands and turned away.
Great. I was hoping to see Wendy before I saw my two least favorite members of her brute squad.
But Wendy wasn’t with them. She was always with them. They were like a Charlie’s angels, with Wendy being Farah Fawcett of course.
Where was she?
I passed my sign to Barry and jogged to reach the girls. A few feet behind them, I heard the tail end of a conversation involving the words “loser” and “in his dreams” before they turned.
“Hello ladies,” I said, shoving my sweaty hands into my pockets.
Their brows knit together in an oddly similar fashion, as if shocked I would dare to speak to them in such a public venue as the hallway. That didn’t surprise me. After all, Moira and Angela, were at the top of the social food chain, while I was more mid-level popular, thanks to my accomplishments on the track team.
Moira flicked her ink black hair over her shoulder in a way that I can only describe as intimidating. The way her nose curls, and her forehead wrinkles makes me feel like dirt beneath her zebra striped, Louboutin heels. Angela is no better. One hand goes to her hips, and her full, brick-red painted lips are pursed, as if me standing here breathing her air is annoying her.
But this is about Wendy, so I clear the thickness from my throat, and stand my ground, forcing them to acknowledge me.
Finally, they do.
“Um, can we help you?” Moira asks.
Her makeup was flawless, but her attitude was a mess. What did Wendy see in these girls? Wendy was so kind. So down to earth. Nothing like these Kardashian wannabes.
“Yeah, I, uh,” I cleared my throat, trying to sound casual. “I’m looking for Wendy. Have you seen her?”
Angela’s light brown eyes scanned me, then she tilted her head to the side, staring at me as if I were a rain cloud on a good hair day.
“She’s not here,” Angela said shortly. “What’s it to you?”
I took a deep breath, knowing that my next words would rock their worlds and, if their boyfriends got wind of it, possibly end my life.
“I’m going to ask her to choose me at the Winter Formal choosing ceremony.”
Did I suddenly spout a red nose and clown shoes? I must have, because Moira and Angela looked at each other with amused grins, then looked at me, and burst out laughing.
Ouch.
Moira scoffed. “You want to take Wendy to the Winter Formal? In your dreams, dork.” Moira’s eyes zeroed in onto me. “First of all, her brothers will break you, and your geeky friends, in half. Second, she’s going with James Hawking. You know him, right? Tall, hot, king of lacrosse, allergic to nerds.” She patted my head like I was a dog, and I bit back an unkind retort.
Angela made a shooing motion. “Run along, loser. Wendy’s not into you.”
The two girls laughed again and walked away, leaving me red-faced, angry, and embarrassed.
I was used to bullies, though they’d left me alone after junior high school. The boys, I could handle, but there was something about a girl’s mocking that made me feel emasculated.
I squeezed my lips together and pushed back my mop of dark brown hair. My shoulders slumped, and my enthusiasm was beginning to slip away. Those girls punched a massive hole in my pride, and I was powerless to do anything about it.
I pivoted on my heel and walked back toward my friends.
Maybe Angela and Moira were right. What made me think a girl like Wendy would go out with me anyway? Maybe I was just a loser like those girls said? Maybe Wendy was more like those girls then I realized. But how could that be? She didn’t make fun of everyone like Moira and Angela did. At least, not that I saw.
No, Wendy wasn’t like those girls. She didn’t look down on people or talk to them like they were ants ready to be stepped on. And later, when she saw me with my sign and flowers, and heard the song that always reminded me of her, I was sure she’d recognize that I wasn’t like those other jerky guys. She’d see that I was different. That I loved her.
“Peter.”
I looked up and saw Bella French standing next to a locker. “Hey, Bella.”
I’d known Bella for three years. We were friends. She was even briefly popular once. Not anymore though. Now she was a mid-lister, like me. Come to think about it, wasn’t she in a cover band with her ex-jock boyfriend? Yeah, she may rank a little lower on the popularity pole now. But she was nice, and one of the fastest girls I’d ever seen run. Seriously, she should try out for the track team one day. She’d be unstoppable.
Her locker was open, and she had a pile of winter clothes in her arms, ready to bundle up against the January chill.
“Looking for Wendy?” she asked, giving me a knowing smile and pulling on her gloves.
I nodded. Everyone who knew me knew I had a thing for Wendy Darling.
If only Wendy knew.
“I was going to ask her to choose me during the Winter Formal choosing ceremony, but, as it turns out, she’s not here. She must’ve left after lunch or something.”
“No, she’s here. I just saw her.”
My eyes went wide, and my back straightened. Maybe there was hope after all?
“She is?”
“Yup.” She closed her locker and pulled a black hat over her dark brown curls. “She’s in detention.”
My heart screeched to a stop. Wendy’s in detention? What could she possibly have done to merit going to detention?
Bella smirked. “She kicked James Hawking in a, let’s say, very sensitive area.”
I snorted, hard. James Hawking was a jerk who deserved worse than a shot in the giblets, but I’d take it. And the fact that it came from Wendy was encouraging. Looks like she wouldn’t be choosing him after all.
I smiled gratefully. “You’re a life saver, Bella.”
She smiled back and slipped her arms into the sleeves of her brown and white pea coat. “Go get her, Peter.”
Confidence restored, I ran back to the guys. Behind me, I heard Bella mutter, “This isn’t my coat.”
I didn’t hang around for the rest of the story. I was too ready to continue with my plan.
I run over to my friends and brothers. They’re staring at me in awe, like I’ve just come from climbing Mount Everest or something.
“Did you just speak to Moira D’Angelo and Angela Washington?” Xander asked.
“What did they say?” Hunter asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“What did Angela smell like?” Barry added.
“Guys, guys,” Xavier chimed in. “The real question is, are they now single and looking to mingle?”
I shake my hand, as if swatting away their crazy questions. I succinctly answer them in the order they’ve asked them.
“Yes, not much, rose pedals, and no. But that’s not the point. Wendy’s in detention.”
They look at me in disbelief.
“What’s she doing in detention?” Barry asked.
I grinned. “She practically neutered James Hawking.”
I’d have to remember to
look on social media tonight to see if anyone posted the video. Seeing James get his was an experience I did not want to miss.
Barry’s glasses slipped down his nose, and he used his free hand to push them up.
The twins slapped each other five. “Awesome!”
“So, I guess this is it, then,” Hunter said. “It’s too bad. Barry and I spent like three hours practicing that song.” He pulled at his navy-blue polo shirt and held up his hands defensively. “You’re not going to want that hundred back, are you? I have a no refund policy.”
I waved his comment away and rubbed my hands together. A plan was already taking shape in my mind.
It would be risky—dangerous even. But I’d already faced the two meanest girls on the planet today. How could things get any worse?
“Gentlemen, the time for action is nigh. We’re going to bust Wendy out of detention. And I know exactly how to do it.”
2
PETER
We peeked around the corner of the hallway, Barry above me, and Hunter and the twins below, like we were in a spy movie or something.
Directly in front of us, to the right, was the main office. Across from the main office, was Principal Mann’s office. The chemistry lab was at the end of the hallway, on the right.
Our target.
Xavier pulled back. “I don’t know about this. What if we get in trouble? We could go to jail.”
Xander craned his neck back to glare at Xavier.
“Quit being a baby,” Xander hissed. “Besides, we’re too young for jail—they’d put us in juvie.”
I heard Xavier swallow behind me. I swallowed too.
Yes, I’d been the ringmaster this whole time, but I still felt nervous. If we got caught, I’d be in detention for the rest of my life, if I was lucky. If I was not so lucky, I’d be expelled. Maybe even arrested. And not just me, but my brothers and friends too.
I looked above me, then below. I was willing to risk everything for Wendy, but I didn’t want the others to suffer for it.
“Look.” I stepped back along the wall and faced them. “This is dangerous. If we get caught, our lives will be over. If you want to back out, I won’t hold it against you.”