Bombshells by T. Elliott Brown Page B

purse.
    The bus is still cool, though the sun is strong in the windows on our side. The bench seat feels stiff and hard. At the next stop, a column of boys with crew cuts comes marching down the bus aisle. “Looks like we might have to move.”
    “Let me handle this, okay?” Steph folds her hands on top of the notebook in her lap like she’s sitting in church, holding a hymnal.
    “Sorry, little girls, but you’re in the wrong seat.” Buzz, the bully from elementary school, props his elbow on the seatback in front of us. The short sleeves of his shirt are rolled twice, and he flexes his stringy bicep for us before leveling an evil grin at Stephanie. The other boys take that as their cue to sneer.
    I nudge Steph and gather my purse and notebook, ready to head for higher ground. I don’t want any trouble from these hoodlums.
    She elbows me back, harder. Tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder, she says, “Shut up, Buzz. We’re not going anywhere.”
    “Oh yeah?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Well, who’s gonna keep me from making you move?”
    Stephanie flips open her notebook and points to a name and telephone number written in red ink. “This is my sister’s new boyfriend. He told me to let him know if anybody gave me any trouble.”
    I didn’t even know Cherie had a new boyfriend. Over Steph’s shoulder, I read, Clint, EV5-4367 . Clint who?
    Obviously, Buzz knows Clint. Buzz’s evil grin fades and he studies Steph’s notebook for a few seconds. Then he backs away, motioning for his friends to move up the aisle to take another seat. Buzz flops in the seat right in front of us. “Tell Clint I said hey, okay?”
    Stephanie smiles like she has a buttery after-dinner mint in her mouth. “Sure, Buzz, I’ll tell him.” She winks at me.
    I’m dying to know what’s going on, but can’t ask with Buzz sitting right in front of us.
    I don’t get a chance all day. Of all the rotten luck, Steph and I don’t have any of the same classes. Not even the same lunch. I never did get my locker open in the morning and ended up lugging all of my books around the whole day.
    Now I stop at my locker to try one last time to ditch my books. I sure don’t want to carry them home when I don’t need them for homework. I fumble with the combination lock again, and tug on it.
    It doesn’t budge. “Damn.” I bang my head against the blue metal locker. At least it’s cool against my skin.
    Stephanie swishes up beside me. Her new crinoline hasn’t lost any of its bounce since the morning. “Hi, Mellie. Wasn’t today just the best day ever?”
    I stare at her. “Good grief, Steph. Did we live through the same day?”
    “Yeah, it was great! I’ve been asked to join the Beta Club, and Marianne wants to sponsor me for the junior varsity cheerleaders.” She pauses to adjust her notebook. “What about you?”
    “Okay, I guess. I’ve got to collect current events from the newspaper for Social Studies. My teacher says,” I pause and imitate her voice, “ We are witnessing one of the most challenging, and therefore, one of the greatest, times in the history of our nation.”
    “Yeah. I have to get current events, too. I hate that.”
    “And my English teacher wants me to work on the yearbook.”
    “Oh, that’s good.”
    Steph keeps turning her head, like she’s looking for someone. “By the way, I’ve decided that we have to have our first kiss by the end of the Sadie Hawkins Day Dance in three weeks, okay?” She waves at two older girls in straight skirts. “Well, let’s go get our seat on the bus.”
    I slam my locker and catch up with her. “You’re not serious about the kissing stuff, right?”
    “Sure, I am. C’mon, Mel, you’ve gotta grow up.”
    “Hey, we’re the same age, remember? Twelve. We’re as grown up as twelve. Anyway, what’s the deal with Buzz and this Clint guy?”
    “Oh, Clint just told me to let him know if Buzz gave me any trouble.” She dabs a little pink lipstick on, then slips the tube