I was bullshitting with Joey, cropping photos while he glued them down onto the page, when Kinzie Evans walked in to our classroom.
“What’s Kinzie doing here?” I said.
“How the fuck should I know?” Joey didn’t even look up. “Go and ask her.”
“No… I don’t think–”
“You chicken,” Joey taunted, making chicken noises, “Bkawwk!”
“I don’t see you walking over, either!”
“I’m not the one infatuated with her.” He glued down another photo.
I protested, “I’m not infatuated!”
Kinzie Evans was just about the hottest girl in our school, in a way different league than Joey or me. Cute, cheerful, sparkling eyes, a nice rack, and she moved with this certain aloofness, as if she existed on a whole special world separate from the comings and goings of us common folk. Like now, just drifting into Yearbook midway through the period. If anyone else had showed up without a pass or even a good story, our teacher would’ve kicked them out. But not with Kinzie. No, she was just casually chatting with friends, not buying into school as anything more than a social opportunity.