Cycler by Lauren McLaughlin

Author:Lauren McLaughlin
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780375892479
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2008-08-26T04:00:00+00:00

Love, or something like it, must be in the air. In chem lab, Steven Price giddily recounts his successful attainment of a prom date with fellow trombone player, Petra Klimova, an accomplishment that apparently eviscerates any residual mal feelings he has for me. So we’re back to being buds. Then, just as the bell rings, Ramie pushes the door open, all excited to fill me in with the “deets” about her window guy.

Placing the last beaker in the drying rack, I grab my bag and head into the hallway with her.

“Did you cut class early?” I say.

Nodding, she hooks her arm through mine and rushes me down the hall.

“So,” I say. “Full disclosure.”

“Like I ever leave anything out,” she says. “Jill, when I say he’s hot, I’m talking supernova. I’m talking the big bang. I’m talking—”

“Very nice, Ramie. Who is he?”

She shrugs theatrically.

“What do you mean you don’t know? What’s his name?”

She shrugs again, then throws her arms around me and nudges her nose behind my ear. “I think I’m in love.”

Behind us, a pair of freshman boys giggle; then one of them blurts out, “Kiss her.”

Ramie glances over her shoulder at them, then grabs my face and plants one on my lips.

I shove her away and wipe her spit from my mouth. “Ramie! I am deeply not into that Girls Gone Wild crap.”

The freshman boys are already cheering.

I grab Ramie’s bony wrist and yank her along with me. “You’re such a deviant,” I say. “How did you meet this guy?”

“He just showed up at my window,” she says. “But the weird thing is, Jill, I feel like I know him. Don’t ask me how. It’s like we have this—”

“Don’t say ‘connection.’ ”

“We do!”

“Ramie!” It’s déjà vu all over again. “You mean like you had with that Lansdale kid?”

“He’s not a Lansdale kid.”

Lansdale is a sleepaway school for boys from broken homes. Sad cases. Every once in a while, a Winterhead girl gets mixed up with one of them and it always ends badly. Ask Ramie.

“So,” I say. “What did you do with him?”

Ramie gets all swoony and says, “We mostly just did, like, tongues and stuff, but he was lying on top of me and he had his hand up my shirt.”

“And you don’t even know his name?”

“What’s in a name?” she says.

“Right,” I say. “And when are you seeing him again?”

She shrugs.

“You don’t know?”

“It’s not a conventional relationship, Jill. Don’t be boring.”

“So, it’s a relationship now?” I say.

Ramie nods.

“Oh, this is promising.”

“Yeah,” she says. “I know.”

When we get to the art room, I pull her aside. “Ramie, promise me something.”

“What?”

“Promise you’ll call me the next time he shows up at your window.”

“Why?” she says. “You want to watch?”

I poke her bony sternum with my finger. “You are a sick and dangerous individual.”

She smiles sweetly. “I know. But you’re the one who’s dating a bi.” She winks at me, then skips down the hallway, her wild black hair flowing like a wave.

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