I think the kid in front of me farted. My first day as a freshman and the idiot in front of me farts. High school has proven to me that it sucks.

I can’t wait to see Wednesday and tell her, but I write it down on a page and stuff it in my Might-Forget-To-Tell-Wednesday pocket because I might forget to tell Wednesday.

This kid in front of me, I think his name’s Josh, he farted.

Once I scribbled that down I looked back at the front of the class, at my new English teacher, Mr. Corona. Wendy (my shorter, more practical nickname for Wednesday) and I played with his name a lot. He was saying something about the color purple or something like that. I don’t know why we’re learning about purple in English class. I think he should lose his job for going off track.

When class was over I met Wendy at The Water Fountain With a Dead Cockroach, and pulled out the paper I’d scribbled my note on.

“That Josh kid farted in class.” I said.

“Are you serious? Idiot.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you seen Eric?” She asked. I shook my head.

“I can’t find him or Max anywhere.”

“You’re sure they’re even coming here?” I asked lamely. Wendy rolled her eyes.

“I think we should look for them.” She said.

“Why? Just call Eric’s mom. She’ll tell you if he’s at school, and we can look for them. They might’ve caught mono… again.”

“Great idea!”

We ran into the bathrooms down the hallway and Wendy pulled out her cell.

“Hi Mrs. Barnes. I’m fine, she’s fine, too. We were wondering if Eric came to school today.”

She nodded and made “oh” and “uh-huh” sounds.

“Okay, thanks.” Wendy hung up.

“He’s here, so Max’s here, too.”

“Okay, we’ll see them now. I mean, in all the movies you see everybody during lunch.”

“Good point.”

We left the bathrooms and followed the mass of people heading for where he hoped was the cafeteria. When we got to the cafeteria, or great imitator of that, we stood in line forever. Once we reached the lunch lady the food looked cold and angry, like the lunch lady.

“Does that food strike you as being a bit bad tempered?” Wendy asked.

The lunch lady with a big black lump under her hair net flung some reddish stuff onto my plate, and then Wendy’s. I would’ve said thanks if I wasn’t busy trying to not die of asphyxiation.

“What the hell is this?” Wendy asked once we sat down.

“I dunno. It’s gross.”

“It’s red.”

“Like blood.”

“It looks like a puddle of blood clots.”

I glanced up at her wondering how random that comparison was.

“With meat.” She added.

Some girls who were definitely older than us came and sat at the table.

“This is our table.” Said Blonde #1.

“You cannot sit at our table.” Blonde #2 cried.

“Get OFF our table!” Blonde #3 shouted.

I exchanged a quick terrified glance with Wendy before we scrambled to our feet, trays full of blood-clotty lunch at hand. We found a table that only had two boys sitting at it, and we sat down at the opposite end from them. They, too, looked older, but we hoped they didn’t go as crazy.

“I don’t like high school so far.” I muttered. Wendy nodded.

“I love it!” one of the boys chimed. The two of us snapped to look at him.

“Yeah, it’s great, you two just haven’t got any good news yet.”

My jaw dropped. I was staring to two biggest idiots in the eye, the two biggest idiots who we’d been looking for.

Surely puberty is a hard time in life for most kids, and it didn’t often leave a kid happy. Wendy and I bloated up and got slower metabolisms. We were stuck being the example of an experience that brings some kids to tears. The other girls in the grade must’ve been really happy because they were skinny and getting the dates.

Eric and Max were definitely going to be those dates.

They’d gotten taller and dateable. Eric was leaner, and the horribly gangly look he used to have had evened out a bit more, so he was kinda cute. He looked boyish, and I could tell he was taller. Max was definitely more dateable, as he’d not only gotten taller, but definitely got muscles over the summer; a lady would refer to him as being a ‘strapping lad’ I guess. He had the nerve to wear a sleeveless shirt; he went out on a limb, and came back victorious. They’re faces were different, too. They weren’t smooth and cute, like the kids you see in the Mickey Mouse Club. They were – do I dare – mannish, and more matured.

I looked back at Wendy, whose face was just as shocked as my own. Here we are, examples of the negative side of puberty. She was stuck with a wiggle-walk because of her size (a scar from slow metabolism and a PMS sweet tooth), and I was stuck hunched over wearing oversized sweatshirts to hide my very noticeable boobs.

And all this depressing information flashed through my mind in a second.

“H-hey.” Wendy said.

“Hi.” Eric said brightly. “what’s up? You guys been in Biology yet? It’s hell, I heard.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Yup.” Max answered.

“Max, how’s your sister?” Wendy asked.

“Don’t call me Max anymore, my dad doesn’t like it. He said it makes me sound insubordinate and stuff like that.”

Well damn, I almost forgot what his real name was.

“Okay, Wesley, how’s you’re sister?”

“She’s fine. She writes every day, it’s annoying. I’m sick of it.”

“Well she probably misses you, man.” Eric cut in.

“Yeah, she sure does miss her little brother, the one who set her boyfriend’s car on fire. I’d miss you, too.” I muttered.

“It was a mistake, y’know.” Max – I mean, Wesley said angrily.

I sighed and looked at Eric. Eric Barnes, you’re All-American pretty boy. Eric had brown, straight hair, bright brown eyes that were big in an appealing way, peach skin, and sweet dimples. If I had a nickel for every person who thought he’d make a great child-model I’d be rich. Now that he was puberty-stricken, it only enhanced his looks, like taking a brand new white shirt, and bleaching it ten times – you brought out a white that you never thought existed.

Wesley was good looking in a different way. For one thing, he was probably the only French-Black-Italian-British-Lebanese boy I knew. He had black messy hair, lethargic, big, heavy lidded bright green eyes (including the permanent mascara look), light tan skin and two moles; one his cheek, the other on his neck (he had some freckles, but I only know because he’d told me). He probably wouldn’t have cut it as a child model because he looked very tired all the time, and being puberty stricken he was likely to be more of a Goth chick-magnet.

“How was your summer?” Eric asked us politely.

“Boring.” We said in unison. The boys shrugged.

“I had fun in California, I guess.” Eric said thoughtfully.

“France was fun the first three days.” Wesley said lazily.

“Can we call you Wes, instead?” Wendy asked. She’d probably been thinking what I was. Wesley nodded.

“I guess.”

Good – three less letters I have to think about.

“You like Florida State?” Eric asked. I made a confused face, and he pointed to my sweatshirt.

“Oh, um, no.”

“It’s like ninety degrees out there – why are you wearing that?” Wes asked.

I shrugged and turned my attention to the food on my plate. “I’m cold.” I grumbled.

We didn’t talk much during lunch, and when it was over I felt like a knot in my stomach had loosened up.

“That was so awkward.” Wendy said helplessly. “I was hoping they’d catch acne, or get lanky, or fat, or ugly, or anything! But not cute, Jesus, cute!? WHY!?”

“This sucks so much. Now everyone’s gonna wanna go out with them.”

“Seriously.”

“Especially those fake girls…”

“I know.”

“And…” I shivered. “…Marie.”

“Oh, shit, I forgot about Marie!”

How could she? With so much of a person to fear, I can’t imagine how she’d forget. Marie was practically in the slang dictionary beside the word Wendy and I coined: Mannigirlitis. She was a man. Marie was big and scary and had a gang of mannish girls just like her. And what was terrifying was that they still dressed and behaved like girly girls, only on steroids. They were aggressive, mean and tough. They’d almost broken Wes’s neck flirting with him.

And they hated our guts. They were always angry at Wendy and I. We had no clue why, either.

Wendy and I ran by the bathrooms before going into class, and while washing my hands I got a look at myself in the mirror, and couldn’t believe I was looking back at myself.

I was staring at Kylie Morrison, four feet eleven inches, one hundred and ten pounds. My skin color was labeled light gold ninety nine percent of the time. My hair was indecisive and unreliable, so it ranged from platinum blonde to this scary tawny color. I really hated how my eyebrows were so dark, so people thought I’d dyed my hair. Hazel was my least favorite color, so, unquestionably, my eyes were hazel.

Wendy was taking a long time in the bathroom, so I kept looking at myself.

I was slouching in an oversized sweatshirt, which had become my uniform. Since my new qualities had sprouted up that summer I felt nothing but awkwardness. I’d always been under the impression that I’d grow up pretty flat since I’d had my period when I was twelve, and never got any figure, but this summer really screwed up that plan. Overnight I went through four bra sizes, and none of my pants would go around my hips. I had to wear sweats for three weeks because I wouldn’t stop growing. It was weird, though, because I didn’t get any taller. I went through a quick acne stage, but I was stuck with a new body that I really wasn’t used to. My aunt didn’t make things any easier.

“So what you got big breasts? You know that lady on TV? That model we always seein’ on TV? She paid big money for them, so you better not pick up that butcher knife any time soon, you hear me?”

Wendy came out of the bathroom, and I glanced in her direction.

Wendy got rounder this summer, but in a different way. She got bloated, seriously. Wendy looked as though she was smuggling hams under her pants. She got a huge gut during the summer, and, sadly, a double chin. Her face was still friendly, but she had a definite sad look behind her eyes.

I envied her, though. Wendy could lose weight and look normal; I couldn’t. Unless I got some crazy surgery, I’d be stuck the way I looked. She had pale skin and long dark brown hair. Wendy’s eyes were bright blue, and she had a really cute button nose.

She washed her hands and gave me a confused look.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing.” I grumbled. We left the bathrooms to go to class.