Principal Stone motioned Wyatt to the second seat, a mere inch from where she sat. In all his life, he’d never seen anyone like her. Even Julie, West’s head cheerleader and the football team’s fantasy, couldn’t touch her.

“Wyatt? This is Amiria.” Principal Stone held out his hand as Wyatt maneuvered around and lowered himself onto the molded plastic. “Amiria, this is Wyatt Moreland, our senior class president.”

She turned toward him with eyes of blazing blue. Wyatt would have sworn they held speckles like a robin’s egg. He longed for one of the ten-year-old mints in the bowl on Stone’s desk as his mouth dried out and his throat closed up on itself.

“Hello, Wyatt.” Her voice infused with the lilt of her native accent. “You can call me Mira.”

No, not gruff at all. His head lolled forward and backward once. Idiot! I should say something!

She turned back to Principal Stone when he failed to speak. This sucks. Gotta open my mouth!

“Wyatt’ll give you a tour and get you settled into your classes this afternoon, Mira.” Principal Stone folded his arms across his desk in that I’m-done-now-you-go gesture he’d perfected over Wyatt’s four years at West.

“He will-” Wyatt fumbled his words, mixing up his hand gestures until he didn’t know what he’d actually signaled. “I mean, I will. I. I will. Absolutely. Sure. Uh huh.” He nodded in her direction again. Hands tight against his thighs, he squeezed until his nonsensical ways were behind him. “Ah, so. A tour?”

She turned toward him again. Her smile grew and the corners of her eyes creased. Wyatt’s heart did one big flip flop.

I am so in love.

Charley pushed at the deep walnut door, silent on its hinges. Her heels clicked against ceramic tile as she stepped inside.

“Wet floor!” Lily’s voice struck Charley from around a corner.

She slid to a halt. Her bag slammed into her shoulder as momentum forced her forward. Hands raised for balance, she braced and took a step back onto the threshold.