• Chapter 1: Frogs Are Gross. Really, Really Gross


    Today, Riley talked to me. I mean, actually talked, not just some stupid, little “Hey.” It’s all thanks to Mr. Lane, me Science teacher. He has this thing where we partner up and do a project, then create a presentation with said partner, on said project. The whole process takes about a month and at the end, we present the presentation. Guess who my partner is. The smart, mysterious, hot… Riley Matthews!!

    It started when we changed seats, and I sat next to him. “You’re Haliegh Cameron, right?” I nodded, and there was no need for me to ask him; he’s the most well known guy in the whole grade. He even got an offer for the Ducks (more about them later) but he declined and that made him even more popular.
    I nodded, “Yup.” Fighting to keep cool, I remember my best friend (Sky) who freaked out when she tried to talk to him. She kind of stammered a lot then ran away. “Do you have any idea of what we’re doing?”
    He shook his head, and just then Mr. Lane’s was walking into the room, carrying a big box. He set it out on the counter, then brought another one in. Riley and I peered over our table, trying to see into the boxes.
    “Is that…?” I trailed off, feeling green.
    “Frogs.” Riley finished for me, then swallowed.
    Mr. L. passed out worksheets and told us to cross off the organs as we found them. I notice Kayla (one of my friends) making a face. Then, he passed out the frogs.
    Ours was frozen, formaldehyde-dunked, and hardly green anymore. I swallowed, and tried not to breathe in the stench. “Wa-Wanna go first?” I asked quietly. He shot a look at me, probably mad I put him on the spot, I waited a second or two, adverting my eyes. Finally he made a cut into the underbelly of the frog and slushy, barely-red-mostly-purple-ish blood squirted out. I kinda threw up in the back of my throat.
    “Oh-Oh God!” I muttered. I raised my hand quickly, “Mr. Lane, may I go into the hall?”
    He nodded, “Mr. Matthews, kindly escort your partner out.” On the last word, he flourished his hands toward the door.
    “Yes, sir.” He does that exactly. It’s too soon for him to hold my hand or put his arm around me, but that doesn’t stop me from wishing. As soon as I’m into the hall, I leaned against the wall, tipped my head back, and took a deep breath. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” Riley whispered, leaning against the wall RIGHT NEXT TO ME!!!
    Nausea forgotten, I started to hyperventilate. My heartbeat picked up as I said, “I-uh… You’re welcome?” I mentally berated myself for blubbering like Sky.
    “Oops! Erm, awkward.” His laugh echoed throughout the hallway. He sat next to me, and I slid down the wall, smiling at him and sitting at a more comfortable (slash way less embarrassing) distance away. He gets serious again. “But, honestly, please, Haliegh, just tell Mr. L. that I got sick or something.”
    “Sure thing.” It made lots of sense; the formaldehyde smell was really thick. “See you tomorrow?” I asked.
    “Yeah, well, bye.” And he just walked into the office.
    I walked back into class, told Mr. Lane he puked in the bathroom, bunkered down, then got to work, separating the small intestine from the large intestine, distinguishing the liver from the stomach (with the help of gross and detailed picture aids) and manage to make it home alive. Science is, thankfully, my last class.

    Back in the present, I may as well explain him, Sky, the Ducks, and me.
    Riley’s almost a year older than me, but that’s only because I skipped third grade, and now I’m stuck with kids all “almost a year older than me”.
    Anyway, he’s super-gorgeous. He used to be this weird kid with floppy-ish black hair, pretty, green eyes that every one made fun of, and this odd facial structure that had me hooked since the first day I ever saw him. Then he was gone last year (some say home-schooling, others say boot camp) and came back this fall. I don’t see that much difference, aside from pointer ears (weird, right?) and more muscle, but it’s like he realized he was hot, and now I’m not the only one falling for him.
    I on the other hand am completely, utterly boring. My dumb, long, dark brown hair is too thick to do anything with, and it only burns when Sky tries to straighten it. The most interesting thing about me is my eyes, which are blue-gray. And they’re still pretty boring.
    The Ducks are my school’s (MacBride High) popular group- on account that our school’s mascot/team is the MacBride Mallards.
    Needless to say, we don’t get to championships very often.
    Sky is as excitable as a chipmunk, and with enough friends to be in the Ducks. Except they only let in kids who are popular, beautiful and rich. Sky’s dad got booted into unemployment a couple months ago- right before school started. It’s October 11th now, a day and a week from my birthday.
    “Speak of the devil and the devil shall come.” I don’t really know who said that, but anyway, Sky just called me. “Hello?” I answer.
    “Ohmigod! Em told me that Alex just texted her that she heard from Kayla that you’re partners with Mr. Hottie in Lane’s last period!!”
    The sentence is so complicated it takes me a few moments to figure out what she said, but finally I am able to answer. “Er… Yes! We both got sick from the frogs.” I imagine her face scrunching up in disgust.
    “Okay… Ew… Ooh! Gotta go!” And she hangs up before I can say bye.
    Mom calls me into dinner before I can really think about it too much. Both my parents are strict vegans, but they’re cool enough to basically let me eat whatever I want. They’re usually cool about everything as long as I keep bringing home A’s.
    I hurry down the stairs to baked potatoes and salad. I greet my parents and promptly pig out. “Hey sweetie,” My mom starts, “You know what I just realized?”
    I look up from the lettuce and spinach, “What?”
    Mom continues, “Next week, your birthday is going to be on a full moon!”
    Dad chokes on his drink. “Hun, r’you sure?” She nods excitedly.
    I gasp. “Can I please, please, please come to the Full Moon Ball with you guys?!” I squeal. The Full Moon Ball is this dance that’s (according to my parents) “for grown-ups only”. It’s once r twice a month, on the full moon. It starts when the sky get’s dark, and ends when the Sun comes up. My parent’s haven’t missed it since before I was born. Also, since it’s an all-nighter, it always surprises me when they aren’t completely pissy and crabby the next day.
    Mom and Dad smile at each other. “Sure Honey. I think that would be great for your Sweet Sixteen.” Dad says.
    Oh yeah, this Full Moon, I’m turning the big one-six. It’s pretty damn exciting. At approximately 6:15PM, I will be as old as Riley (okay, I’m officially hopeless).

    The next day, my first ten (or so it seems) classes go by at the speed of a stampede of turtles, walking through peanut butter… On Mars.
    But finally it’s science and I’m sitting next to Riley and it’s not totally awkward! I’m so happy I don’t even know how to describe it.
    Class is going great, and we’re pretty much on a talking basis (and I manage not to mention next week, even though I’m still bursting with excitement).
    “So, anything exciting happening today?” I ask.
    “Not much, you?” He replies.
    I shrug. “My birthday’s next week on the full moon.”
    He smiles, “Hmm… Mysterious.” We both laugh. Mr. Lane starts passing out packets for what to base our project on. Groups start to discuss. “So what do you want to do?” I ask, scanning the list.
    “Hmm…” He’s doing the same. “We could do a timeline of a frog’s life.”
    “Or how to formaldehyde stuff…”
    He nods. “As long as we don’t have to bring anything in!” And we both burst out laughing. I make a neat check next to:
    “FORMALDEHYDE – HOW DOES IT WORK?”