BAE BOY

2-7

Sat down on the grass by the big patio where a lot of kids sort of hang out during lunch. Kind of off from the little cliques, around the side of the cafeteria building, to avoid all the pushing and shoving and screaming.

Which turned out to be a smart move because these big food fights kept breaking out at all the picnic tables and even in the snack bar line. And one girl just walked up and dumped her big blue Icee on another girl. God knows why—guy shit, probably.

Two big football players grabbed the Icee lobber right quick, though, and hauled her off somewhere. The one that got doused ran to one of the bathrooms with her crew.

"Code blue" averted. That's what you hear on the walkie talkie things the admins and monitors and cops have, when there's a fight somewhere. There are other "codes," and some numbers, too. But that's the one we all know best. Everybody scrambles when they hear it.

I hid from all that out of habit, to be honest. Lunch time is chill time for me. A few minutes when I can drop the forced smile and just watch the crazy, instead of being right up in it.

But I also wanted to check in with my better half, finally. Find out what the doctors told her. Or, actually, I just needed to hear her voice before the bell sent me back through the gates of hell.

And I was about to do just that when these three sort of nerdy little white girls sort of sidled up to me all nervous.

I'm trying not to be mean. But some of those kids looked like they were still in elementary school. I mean, like their mothers bought all their "school" clothes from WalMart or Target or something at the start of the year. T-shirts with those weird "You Go Girl" type of slogans on them—you know what I mean.

Or they'll have on shirts that represent the heroes from the movies and books they're into. Comic Con, gamer stuff—My Little Pony, even.

I never even knew there were cards for that until I listened to some kids talking about it one time in class. But there's a whole grown up fandom and all. People dedicated to toy horses named Princess Celestia and Twilight Sparkle.

I really worried about their safety at a school like ours. But I was also aware, we all were, that what they were going to contribute to the world later on as real rocket scientists and chemists and all would be 'way more crucial than anything the "cool kids" were going to do.

So God protects them from us. The bubble of impenetrable weirdness they live in? He made it for them. To make sure they lived to blow our friggin' minds one day.

So anyway, after they'd exchanged glances a few times, trying to get somebody to step up, one of the threesome finally sort of gulped and said, "So your name is Colton, right?"

I said, "Who wants to know?" But more like asking for her name than trying to shame her.

So she relaxed and said, "I'm Dylan."

Another Wyatt name. They were everywhere that day.

So I said, "Too lit. So what's up?"

And one of the other girls, one with green fright wig hair, takes out her cell and shows me the video JJ's geniuses had put up. Not playing, just paused there on her screen, ready to be played.

And she said, "That's you, right?"

"Guilty as charged."

I could feel the little electric thrill run through all three of them like a current. So cute.