I dropped my bookbag onto the cafeteria table. I wasn't the least bit hungry but I was operating on autopilot. I unzipped the pocket and reached for the lunch my mom had packed for me. There it was. The ham sandwich I would never eat featuring some mysterious new cheese that, according to Mom, was gonna change my life. I doubted it. I slumped into my seat and pulled a baggie of apple slices onto the table along with a container of caramel dip. I could pretend to be healthy while ingesting a few hundred grams of sugar.
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A note was stuck to the bottom of my sandwich bag. In Mom's cheerful handwriting it said: "It's going to get better. You'll see." I knew she had the best of intentions but I wished she wouldn't do stuff like that. I felt tightness in my chest. My stomach churned.
The familiar scent of a pepperoni Hot Pocket fresh from the microwave turned my head. Yep, it was Bryson. In one hand was a steaming Hot Pocket. With the other hand, he fixed his bangs. Stop with the bangs already. Since spring break he'd been obsessed with his damn bangs. I wondered if there was medication for that.
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"S'up," Bryson said. He plopped down at the table next to me. I shrugged and peeled the foil cover from my apple dip.
"How'd you do on the Chem quiz?" he asked.
"Prob'ly not too good." I dipped a corner of an apple slice into the caramel.
"Hey, Aaron." A sing-songy voice lifted my eyes. It was Kennedy. The summer sprinkle of freckles across her nose faded beneath her deep brown eyes. Her scent was intoxicating. Was it body spray? Shampoo? Lotion? Or was it just her? My heart raced.
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