I think I nailed it.

My page loads, and the first thing I notice is the flashing envelope at the bottom of the screen. I click it, and sitting in my inbox are two words: Matt Augustine.

Matt Augustine—the blue-eyed, Axe-body-sprayed boy who sits at the terminal next to mine has sent me a message. Feelings. Lots of feelings that I can’t categorize flood my body. I take a deep breath then exhale like I just took a drag of a cigarette. Lots of words run through my mind. None of them make sense. If I were a comic book, there would be a huge white bubble with gibberish floating over my head because I have no freaking clue what is going on or why Matt Augustine sent me a message. I saw him at lunch; he was sitting in the middle of the quad surrounded by friends or fans. I can’t tell the difference. They never look at me. Nobody does, except for him. Well, that’s the lie I tell myself whenever I see him scan the yard and then smile when his eyes land on me sitting under the redwood tree across the yard. Why would he send me a message, then ditch class? Maybe he ditched class because he sent the message? Quit dreaming, Dani. It’s probably nothing, like one of those chain letters telling me I have to forward to ten people or I’ll never find true love. I hold the mouse over his name, daring myself to click.

I’m scared it won’t be a chain letter.

I’m scared it will be.

There is only one way to find out. I click the mouse and the message opens.

Hey Dani,

Can you meet me in the parking lot after school?

Matt

I read it again—and one more time, hoping the words will scramble into something more informative, like why he’s requested this clandestine rendezvous to the student parking lot. Guys like Matt don’t message girls like me, let alone ask them to meet after school. Matt and I share one class—computer lab. Since we have no homework and the assignments are available on the school intranet, he doesn’t need me to take notes for him. So why does he want to meet me? I’m a filler kid, the ones you know by face, but never remember their names. Matt Augustine is, well, he’s the reason they give out free birth control. Dark brown hair, blue eyes so crisp and clear they make the Caribbean ocean look like a dirty swimming pool. He’s the kind of boy you dream about when you’re ten. The one that rides in on a horse and sweeps you off your feet. The one you love forever. I don’t think I’m capable of that kind of love. I love things—like coffee and the smell of fresh lavender. I’ve never used the L-word in reference to an actual human that wasn’t blood related. Except maybe Johnny Depp. I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m not in love with Matt. I’m not even in like with him. I am intrigued by the possibilities though. Wait, what am I saying? Matt Augustine is the last thing I need in my life. I have three months left in Eureka; I don’t need any distractions, anything to knock me off course. I have a plan. Boys are not part of the plan. Not really. Ok, maybe I will make an exception for the right boy.

I watch the clock above the door click along minute by excruciating minute, debating on how to respond. I could ignore the message altogether, pretend I never saw it. No, I can’t. The words, his words, can’t be unread, unseen. I have enough regret in my life. Wondering why Matt Augustine wants to meet me is not going to be added to the list.

I stare at the clock, read the message, stare at the clock some more. The bell rings and I stand up, lift my backpack from the floor, and point myself in the direction of the parking lot. I’m on auto pilot. I don’t want to think about where I’m going or what I’ll say. I don’t even know what to say. I don’t want to open my mouth at all. I wish I had a mint.

I turn the corner to the hall that leads to the parking lot and I freeze. Through the crowd I see Heather King swaying towards me. Crap. I dip my eyes to the floor and pretend not to notice her even though the smell of her Bath & Body lotion burns my nostrils. You can always smell her a mile away. I step in line with a rather large boy from the football team when suddenly her flip-flopped feet appear in my path. I stop so I don’t bump into her. As small as she is, she takes up all the air and space around her.

“Hello, Danielle.” She addresses me like I’m some commoner that should drop to my knees in her presence.

I look up with the most strained smile I can manage. “Hi, Heather.”

She poses in front of me like someone with a camera is going to jump out of a locker and snap her picture for a magazine. “Got any plans for the weekend?” she asks as she twirls a strand of her new blonde hair around her finger. I have to say the blonde suits her much better than the fiery red she had last week. With her sun-kissed skin and gray eyes, she looks like a poster girl for Abercrombie & Fitch.

“I’m working all weekend.” I grip the strap on my backpack and step around her. “I’m actually going to be late.” I would say have a nice weekend, but Heather is incapable of nice.

“So, I guess you didn’t hear about the big party?” Heather loves to ask me about parties she knows I wasn’t invited to.

I take a few steps back to gain some distance. “No, parties really aren’t my thing.” I stop in front of the girls’ bathroom. I’ve hid in this bathroom more times than I care to remember. Maybe I should wait in here until Heather clears out. I can’t risk her following me outside. There’s no way Heather would sanction someone like me meeting a boy like Matt. I’m sure there’s a high school rule that forbids it, and Heather is just the person to enforce it.

“I guess a high school party would be boring to someone from San Francisco,” she snickers. “I bet you’re more the rave type.” Heather is jealous of the fact that I’m from San Francisco. I don’t understand why it bothers her. I’m stuck here now, just like her. We’re even.

“The only clubs I’ve been to are book clubs,” I tell her. “I really gotta go.” I push open the door to the bathroom and hear her laugh echo down the hall.

The door closes and the lights flicker on. I do a quick check under the stalls—all empty. I lean on the sink and look into the warped mirror. A distorted version of my face stares back at me. My limp brown hair is months overdue for a haircut, but I wouldn’t even know where to start. My mom always took care of stuff like that. Makeup, hair, nail polish, those were mom’s specialty. My mother held a degree in liberal arts, but she never had a real job. I was her job. I was a good little mannequin. I sat still when my hair was being curled. I closed and opened my eyes when prompted during my mother’s many make-up sessions. I never thought to watch or learn. I didn’t think I would have to. Or maybe I just didn’t care. I went along with it because it made her happy. The same way a boy would play catch with his dad in the backyard when he’d rather be inside playing World of Warcraft.

I miss her. I miss her hand on my head when she ran the brush through my hair after a shower. I miss the lingering smell of her perfume after she left the room. I’m lost without her. I don’t even think I’m wearing deodorant today. So, why the hell am I meeting Matt Augustine? I’m not nearly as groomed as I should be. I’m not Heather, not even close, yet a voice in the back of my head is telling me I have to do this. I have three months left in this town. If my mother were here, she’d tell me to make the most of it. Not a day wasted, Dani. Those are the words I hear in my head as I stare at a carbon copy of her eyes in the mirror. I smile, her smile, and lift my backpack from the floor. I think she would approve of Matt. He’s smart and charming and tall and oh-my-God good looking. His smile, holy hell, it lights up the room. Who knows, maybe Matt is the glue I need to make my smile stick.