Surviving High School

cheered her on.
    As Dominique finished the last slice, the crowd applauded and held up the empty pizza boxes for the rest of the cafeteria to see. A couple of the guys peeled off from the crowd and walked away, talking to each other. One was huge, his tight blue T-shirt straining to contain his bulky muscles. He also had the worst haircut in the world: a terrible buzz cut with the words GO LIZARDS shaved into the back, stretching from ear to ear.
    The other boy, though, was gorgeous. He wore a red-and-white-striped polo shirt that hung loose, except for the sleeves, which clung to his well-toned arms. His dark brown hair fell just over eyes that sparkled with intelligence. Emily bet he had a nice smile, too, but he wasn’t smiling now.
    “Dude, a hot chick who can pack away that much pizza is basically a goddess,” said the bigger one, whose letterman jacket read SPENCER on the chest. “I’m all over that.”
    “Yeah,” the hot one said without enthusiasm. “Sure.”
    “You okay, man?” Spencer put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You seem—I dunno—off, or something.”
    “Just bored. One day back and I’m already bored. Maybe there is something wrong with me. I just can’t get excited about a girl putting away two pizzas.”
    “Are you crazy?” asked Spencer. “Dominique is basically the perfect woman. She’s like a guy—but in an incredibly hot girl’s body. And did you hear that she watches every NFL game on Sundays while she runs on the treadmill—for sixhours? I started fantasizing about her listing quarterback ratings while she wrestled me to the ground and—”
    “Okay, okay, I get it,” said his friend. “But can you imagine going on dates? She’d totally empty your wallet every time you went out for dinner. I’ll stick to girls who only want a slice or two.”
    “Whatever, man,” said Spencer. “I still say she’s hot. I could see her perfect abs through her dress ! Where did she even put those pizzas?”
    The guys began walking toward the door, on a path that would take them right past Emily and Kimi’s table. Emily instinctively looked down, preparing herself to avoid eye contact, and then she remembered the banquet she’d laid out for herself. I’ll stick to girls who only want a slice or two. Great. This guy clearly wasn’t going to be impressed by her megacalorie meal. Now the only boy in the world she actually thought was hot (besides Taylor Lautner, maybe) was going to think she was just as high maintenance as Dominique.
    “Kimi!” she said, trying to keep her voice down. “Help!”
    “Help what?”
    Emily picked the bread and turkey off the table and laid them on the bench by her side. She reached for her vitamins next. Catching on, Kimi picked up the almonds and set the can in her lap.
    Emily was reaching forward, trying to hide one more thing when the guys walked by, and she tried to sneak a glance at the cute one. As he passed, a strong scent filled her nostrils, something like a combination of vanilla andchocolate chip cookies. Emily couldn’t believe it: She was literally salivating over a guy.
    Suddenly, the boys stopped. Right in front of Emily and Kimi’s table. Emily tried to act like she’d been looking at something over the guys’ shoulders.
    “Uh, hey. Are you okay?” asked the cute one.
    Emily looked up to confirm that, yes, he was actually talking to her. He had a confused look on his face, but she detected the faintest hint of a smile arcing up at the side of his mouth.
    “I’m—fine,” she finally said.
    “It’s just”—he glanced down at the table—“you have your hand in a bowl of yogurt.”
    Emily looked down and saw that what he’d said was true.
    “Oh. That’s. Yes. That’s, uh. I burned my hand on—a beaker. In Chemistry. And the yogurt is supposed to help the skin heal.”
    The guys stood silent for a second, looking at her. Then the cute one broke out into a big full-faced smile that reached all the way up to his eyes.
    “Chemistry, huh?” he said. Then he turned and left, laughing a little to himself as he and Spencer walked out the side door. Emily took her fingers out of the yogurt and wiped them off on a napkin. Perfect. Now the rest of the container would taste like her hand—meaning it would taste like chlorine. Maybe she could make up the yogurt calories at dinner.
    “I can’t believe it,” said Kimi, putting the almonds back on the table. “You were just talking to Ben Kale!”
    Emily spent the