Chapter 3: You think I have cooties?

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"So, let me get this straight, your brother Finn gave his friend John a birthday cake but when Finn ate the cake he had an allergic reaction to walnuts that weren't even in the cake but had touched it?" I take a deep breath after finishing my sentence.

"Yup!" Bubbles says.

"And you're happy about that because...?"

"I never liked John. Finn isn't allowed to see him anymore. John's mum said," she winks, smiling happily, her bright blonde hair bouncing around her in a ponytail.

"I wish my life had been so full of drama when I was six."

"No, you don't. A depressed and guilty six year old crying in his bedroom all night is not something you should wish for," she frowns sarcastically. "It would keep your big sister, big brother and parents and dog awake all night as well."

I laugh. "I understand then."

I open my locker and take out my books. Bubbles continues chatting to me as people walk beside us. We begin to walk to Bubble's locker together when a hand wraps itself around my waist. I smell men's cologne and immediately know who it is.

"Hey babe," I say, closing my locker and turning my head to look at him.

"Hi dude," he replies and smirks.

"Get off me," I growl and shove him into a locket.

"Ow," he rubs his shoulder and glares at me from under his Ray Bans. I smile sweetly at him and then walk off quickly. He chases after me. Bubbles gives us a look, grins evilly and runs off.

"Bubbles," I growl after her. He grabs my hand and drags me along after him. I quickly pull my hand out of his.

"No need to put your germy hand in mine," I say, walking beside him.

"You think I have cooties?"

"Yes."

"Ok," he scrunches his eyebrows down and looks at me weirdly.

"It's not my fault you caught the disease!"

"What the hell?" he mumbles under his breath and I shove him. He laughs. "Don't push me! I have cooties, remember?"

I roll my eyes but smile anyway. He pokes me in the side and I squeal.

"Now you have cooties, too," he says.

"No, I don't!" I say.

"I thought it was a contagious disease," he smirks, and I glare at him. Before I can say anything, or sprint away from him (the preferred option), he swoops down, pulls my legs off the ground, and throws me over his shoulder. I pound on his back as he picks up my bag and sprints off.

"Alex! Alex!" I whisper yell, not wanting to yell at the top of my lungs for the whole school to hear. "Put me down!"

"Nope," he says and sprints up some stairs at the speed of a cheetah. I let out a scream. He chuckles and runs faster – if that's even popular. I suddenly have a great idea, yelling out, "ouch!" I go limp and he immediately stops and puts me down.

"Are you alright?" he asks me, holding me up by the arms, worry and guilt etched into every corner of his face.

I burst out laughing and he pulls his hands off me and scowls. I stop laughing and put a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry," I try to say sincerely. But it comes out more sarcastic. He rolls his eyes with his arms crossed but smiles anyway. "Hey, you were the one that ran across the school with me on your back without my permission. See you in calculus."

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