When we step foot back onto the school campus, we are met with the chaos of the late-bell. Students zip around the campus like a swarm of fruit flies. Carl leaps in front of me, crouched and his arms spread wide. "I'll protect you!" he shouts valiantly. 

I sigh and watch him get run over by a pack of beefy (and very sweaty) football players marching toward gym class. I glance at Miley, "Do you know where my next class is?" 

She squints --staring off into space as if she were sorting through her memory. Then she holds out a hand and I smile as I relinquish my schedule to her. Her eyes flit over the flimsy paper before her lips break out into a happy grin. She hands my schedule back, "I knew it. I just had to be sure. You have chemistry." 

I quirk a brow, "In what direction?"

"That way," she points across the courtyard and I cringe, as I'll have to fight my way through the mass of students. I go to sigh again --the air already blistering inside my lungs and ready to be exhaled --but Devon loops his arm through mine. I give him a weird look.

Why is he touching me? He can admire all he wants, but touching is a totally different story. 

"Come on. I have chemistry this hour too, and all the classrooms are grouped together in the same building. What teacher do you have?" he pushes his way through the crowd with his shoulder, and I burrow closer to his side so I can use him as a shield.

My eyes skim over my schedule, "Um, Mrs. Sanders?"

Devon beams. "I have her too. She's a lot of fun, you'll like her. She doesn't believe in packets, so we get to do a lot of experiments without all the boring work." 

I smile sheepishly, "I like her already." 

He nods. Several people bustle past and Devon yanks me out of the way before I can get trampled. I glare at the idiots who'd passed us and, in true New Yorker fashion (even though I'm not from New York), shout mean words and borderline threats at them while Devon whisks me away into the science building. "You've got a bit of a temper," he comments. 

I grumble incoherently. 

"I like it though," he continues, a blush tickling his cheeks pink. I inwardly groan and shoot him a look that says: Keep it in your pants. He looks away from me and then pulls me to a stop in front of a door. "This is is! Ready?"

The door pushes open and I step back to avoid getting smacked with it. A plump woman steps out, her brown eyes wide behind thick black glasses. Her bright red lips pull back into a grin and her eyes crinkle around the corners. "You must be Alice!" 

"Hey, Mrs. Sanders," Devon greets the older woman cheerfully. 

Mrs. Sanders squints up at him. "Devon!" she smiles widely again when she realizes said boy is the one talking to her, "Good to see you, sweetie. How was your weekend?" 

"Pretty good."

Devon walks into the classroom then, abandoning me with Mrs. Sanders. She kind of reminds me of an old witch; she looked like someone who would sit inside a house made of candy while she waited for her hungry prey to approach. She glanced me over once and brushed a wispy strand of silver behind her ear. "It's nice to meet you dear. Have you taken any chemistry courses prior to this one?" 

 I shake my head, not sure how to answer. I always thought that chemistry didn't need any precursor classes --at least that was the way it was back in my old school.

Mrs. Sanders laughs at me and squeezes my shoulder, "That's quite alright! We'll get you caught up in no time!"

"Thanks," I say uncertainly, laughing a bit awkwardly back. She steers me into the room and across the front; I almost get cornered by a black top counter stretched across the length of the room as we pass. We end up at a desk that's pushed against the wall and half hidden by a bookshelf. Mrs. Sanders releases me and snatches a textbook from the top of it. She holds it out for me to take. I thank her and hug it to my chest.

"You can sit next to Sophie," Mrs. Sanders points over my shoulder, and I turn around to face the mass of mini-black top counters that acted as our desks.

Redroots sat in one of the few empty chairs near the back, her eyes focused on me. A bright green notebook sits on the table in front of her, on top of a book. I glance back to follow Mrs. Sanders' arm and blanch when I realize that she is pointing at her. With a sigh, I collect myself, smile at Mrs. Sanders in gratitude, and then walk over to where Redroots sits.

She perks up a bit as I approach, as stiff as a board. "Your my new partner?" Her voice isn't as nasal and whiny as I'd expected it to be. But she still gives me a pretty cold look.

"No," I set my new book down onto the table and shrug out of my backpack, "I'm the new cleaning lady."

Her upper lip curls back over pearly white teeth --it makes her look like a cat whose whiskers were being tugged on. I wag my eyebrows at her, "Got any messes?"

"Ha ha," she doesn't laugh. I roll my eyes and slide into the tall stool beside her. Its a weird little chair, with the seat and back of a plastic computer chair, but it was maybe two feet away from being as tall as I am.

I stare at the whiteboard. It's covered in marker scribbles and, in big letters, reads: S'MORES!

"We're making s'mores today?" I glance at Redroots from the corner of my eye.

"Yeah."

 I let out a sigh and return my attention ahead. It doesn't take long for my gaze to wander, and I find myself scoping out the room. Devon sits several rows away, and he seems to be diligently copying notes from the front board. His head dips low every time he scribbles something down, and then it pops back up again as he looks at the whiteboard. It's kind of funny; he looks like a gopher. Blue Eyes isn't in the room, which kind of bums me out. I was really hoping to have him in another class. It would give me a better opportunity to get closer, and then eventually to get into his skin-tight jeans. There are still two periods left before the day officially closes, so I still harbor a little smidgen of hope. 

Mrs. Sanders quickly starts class once the final bell rings. Sophie is tasked with showing me around and helping me find all the lab equipment. As we tie on our aprons and slide on our ugly-goggles, Mrs. Sanders goes over a list of safety rules. Once she is finished, she sets us free and begins to wander around the room, pointing out different things and offering tips. 

Sophie goes first. She holds her marshmallow over the rusty Bunsen-burner until it catches on fire. She doesn't blow it out until she goes to put it on her gram cracker and it's a crispy charcoal black. I take my time, slowly rotating my gooey cylinder of white around in the flame. Once it's a golden brown, I squish it between two crackers.

"Mm," I moan as I chew the deliciousness, "Yummy." 

By the end of class, I've lost count on how many I've made --and devoured. S'mores were always a favorite of mine; Jake and I used to pretend to camp in his front yard with his older brother and his wife, and we had s'mores all the time. The bittersweet memories evaporate as the bell rings, however, and Devon skips over, licking his lips. 

"How was it?" 

"I think I've gained about two pounds." I remark, rubbing my stomach happily. Naturally, he assures me that I haven't gained any weight --and that, in fact, I look extremely skinny for my height, which is a total lie. I thank  him anyways and we both say goodbye to Mrs. Sanders as we walk out of the classroom.

I hand him my schedule, "So, next class?" 

"Is Art." Devon smiles down at me wistfully, "Unfortunately, I don't have a single artistic bone in my body, so we don't share this class. Want me to walk you?" 

"No," I take back my schedule and glance over the printed words. "I can figure it out. I don't want yout be late." 

"I don't mind."

I shake my head and smile at him, "Thanks though."

He sighs and nods, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Alright, well it's in the same building as your first period. It's right over there," he nods toward one of the buildings that sit several yards away. 

We separate as a wave of students washes out of the building behind us. I wave to him as I start toward the somewhat familiar building. I think my locker is also inside this building, somewhere. I haven't really been to it all day --not that I had anything in there that I needed. The cool air-conditioned air blasted me in the face as I stepped inside the building. I moved slowly as I walked down the hallway, half looking for my classroom, half looking for my locker. 

Then I froze. 

Because at the end  of the hallway, nestled against a corner, was a very familiar looking guy with slick black hair and bright blue eyes --and his dark sports coat catches the florescent lighting in a very flashy way, so it was really hard to miss-- who was passionately making out with a girl with fluffy blonde hair. 

I grit my teeth when I catch a glimpse of her face, "Oh no she didn't." 

Bimbo One had stolen my Blue-Eyes. 

Some loser kid leaned over beside me and said, in a very sarcastic and dramatic manner, "Oh yes she did, girl!"