I shuffle through the halls at Silver Rush Middle School, staring down at my feet. Don’t want anyone seeing my face. It feels like a million eyes are watching me. I peek up at the other kids, chilling out by their lockers. I swear they’re whispering about me.

They know. They all know what I’ve done.

I slip into the bathroom to escape their voices. I know it’s all in my imagination. Nobody was looking my way. Nobody was whispering secrets. But it feels so real.

Mr. Ike, the janitor, must’ve just cleaned up in here because the bathroom smells all bleachy. A fan in the ceiling clatters away, so I can’t hear the kids in the hall anymore. I bend over the sink and splash cool water on my face. It feels good on my warm, red cheeks.

When I stand up, a horrible sight waits for me in the mirror. My breath catches in my throat. I cover my mouth to keep from screaming.

Oh… My… God!

My reflection stares back at me with big, horrified eyes. Another brown hair grows right out of my cheek. And it’s long. Like the stuff you pull out of the bathtub drain.

My stomach flip flops. I feel like I’m gonna puke. I pinch the hair with nervous, shaky fingers. I’m about to rip the thing out of my face when the bathroom door swings open.

“There you are,” says Sarah. “I thought maybe you were sick and stayed home.” She stands right next to me, checking her long curls in the mirror. Somebody jammed a gooey piece of gum in her hair. “You don’t have a brush, do you?”

My palm covers up the long hair growing out of my face. I try to sound normal, but my voice cracks. “No. No brush. Sorry.”

Sarah sighs. She grabs a paper towel and wets it under the faucet. She tries to pluck out the gum with it, but the sticky stuff is glued in there like cement. “Stupid Dorian thought he was being funny,” says Sarah, scrunching up her eyebrows all angry like. “Asked if I wanted some ABC gum. Then he tossed this in my hair before I could answer. You know what ABC means, right?”

I’m barely listening to her. “Like the old people TV channel?”

“Already. Been Chewed. What a Butthead, huh? I mean, we’re not six years old anymore. We’re in eighth grade. So immature.”

“Yeah,” I mumble. “Major butthead.”

“He’s kinda cute though, don’t you think? For a butthead, I mean. To be honest, I really wish he wasn’t, but what can you do? The dumb dork is cute.”

“Sure,” I say.

Sarah stops messing with the gum and glances over at me, one eyebrow doing that arch thing. “What’re you doing in here anyway? You know the bell rang like three minutes ago.” That’s when I notice the plastic card hanging around her neck—the words HALL PASS in big block letters. It’s like the world’s dorkiest necklace.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“No way,” I say. “I didn’t even hear it.”

More like I was too busy freaking out to notice it.

Sarah squints at me. “Kat, is something wrong? You’re acting all weirdo. I mean even for you.”

I turn away so she can’t see me rip the hair out of my cheek. “Everything’s fine” I tell her as I hurry out the door.

“You sure?” Sarah calls after me. But I ignore her.

I head towards class, hiding the long hair in my clenched fist.

***

TWAP!

An arrow plunges into the bullseye like it suddenly appeared there out of nowhere. Like it teleported there or something. More than 100 feet from the target, Justin reaches in his quiver for another arrow. If he notices me walking up to him, he doesn’t show it.

I realize I’m still holding the long hair that I’d pulled out of my cheek. It’s clenched tight in my fist so someone would have to pry my fingers open to see it. While Justin keeps his eyes on the target, I unclench my fist and let the gross thing float to the grass. “You aren’t supposed to do that here,” I say.

Justin pauses, looks at the bow in his hands, then looks at the row of targets across the grassy field. “You sure?”

“I mean, without a teacher. You aren’t supposed to be shooting arrows without a teacher present.”

It wasn’t weird to see archers on the field—Silver Rush had and award-winning archery team. A few years ago, a kid from the high school even tried out for the Olympics. But you never saw students out here in the middle of the school day while classes were going on. And you never saw them alone. Just being out here beside him made me nervous. My brain kept screaming at me. You’re going to get in trouble.

“Why don’t you leave then?” asks Justin.

“What?” I feel my eyebrow do that downward arching thing. Did he read my mind?

“You keep looking over your shoulder like you just robbed a bank. If you’re nervous about being out here, why don’t you skedaddle?

Did he just say skedaddle? What kind of kid talks like that? What does that even mean?

He lets the bow string go. It makes a whispery TWIPPP sound and another arrow punches into the center ring. “It’s Kat, right?”

“What,” I say again dumbly, even though I heard him. He knows my name?

And why do I even care? Like I’ve said, I’m not one of those dude-obsessed girls who follow them around, laughing too hard at their dumb bro jokes. Those girls are so cringey it hurts. No, I’d rather spend my time on my games and manga.

This boy though… This boy is interesting.

Justin pulls another arrow from his quiver. Doesn’t even look my way. “What are you doing out here, Kat?”

“I don’t know,” I tell him. And it’s the truth. On my way to class, I saw him out here on the archery field all alone and started walking towards him. No thinking involved. I was just drawn to him, like I had known him my entire life. Super weird.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” says Justin. “I need someone to bear witness to my two bullseyes in a row.”

First, he says “skedaddle.” Now, he’s saying “Bear witness.”

“Looks like our time is up.” He nods his head towards a figure in the distance. It’s Mr. Ike, the janitor, marching onto the field. I’m too far away to see his face, but I’m guessing he isn’t happy. His shoulders are all tight and his steps are big, angry stomps.

“Oh, crap.”

“I’ll keep him busy.” Justin walks straight towards Mr. Ike. “You go the other way and keep your head down. Maybe he didn’t recognize you yet.”

I open my mouth, but Justin jogs off before I can say anything. Dropping my head, I hustle towards the classrooms. I throw a glance over my shoulder, watching him meet Mr. Ike in the middle of the field. Justin has his bow and arrows slung on his back and his hands on his hips. He doesn’t look like a teenager about to get in trouble. The way he stands there reminds me of my dad. Not just a grownup, but a grownup with authority.

Who is this kid?