West High’s secretary greeted him with a giant smile on her pudgy face. “Wyatt!”

“Hi, Miss Stillman.” He returned her sentiment with his own grin. Wyatt let his backpack fall to the floor and leaned over the chest-high counter. The glass from one office reflected through all the others-a direct shot inside the privacy of closed doors.

Hot-girl sat with Principal Stone.

Fiery-gold ringlets draped from a single pony tail; it swished and swayed as she spoke. Her hands flew in the air. Her head tilted back with laughter. Whatever they chatted about must have been hilarious as Principal Stone mirrored her every action.

“Wyatt.”

Lips painted soft pink, skin a luscious milky white, neither marred by the strength of the sun.

“Wyatt.”

Her legs bumped the edge of Principal Stone’s desk as she crossed one knee over the other and left her calf exposed.

“Wyatt!”

He blinked. “Sorry. What?” His eyes stayed focused on her.

“Mr. Stone is ready for you.”

Wyatt continued to stare through the glass walls.

“Wyatt!” Miss Stillman rapped her hand on the desk. “Stop ogling and get in there! Principal Stone is ready to introduce you.”

Sweat broke out on his palms as he stuttered, “Yes, ma’am,” and began the too-short walk. Stuart hadn’t lied. In his dreams, Wyatt had imagined some overweight mousey girl with braces, glasses and out-of-date shoes. She’d have been short, her hair knotted and her voice gruff. Not that it mattered, of course.

Her voice will be gruff, Wyatt thought to himself. No way she’s that perfect.

With concentrated effort, Wyatt steered himself toward Principal Stone’s office and knocked on the outer edge.

“Ah, Wyatt. Join us.”