Excerpt of Hey, Nobody's Perfect by Ann Herrick

I took a deep breath and worked up the nerve to approach Brad. He was six–two, so I had to crane my neck to look up at him. "Hi." Brilliant opening remark!

"Hi, Sivia." Brad's blue eyes crinkled as he bestowed one of his devastating smiles on me. "What's up?"

What's up? So casual, so relaxed, so not like me. "Up?" I chewed my lip, trying to think. Up? Up? What was up? Basketball! Yeah, that was it. Basketball. "Um, I just wanted to wish you good luck in the game tomorrow night."

"Thanks." Brad put his hand on my shoulder. The vibrations zapped straight to my heart, among other body parts. "You going? We need all the support we can get if we're going to beat Springfield."

"Of course. Sure. I'll be there! I wouldn't miss it for anything," I babbled. Why did I have to suddenly be conversationally challenged?

"Great." Brad winked at me. "See you there."

I nodded and gulped, so uber–excited I couldn't speak. Where were my always–get–an–A–in–Language–Arts skills when I needed them? I watched Brad stroll off to class. Class! I had thirty seconds to get to the absolute other end of school.

My shoes squish–squashed as I walked as quickly as possible without breaking into an actual run. Running was a cardinal sin at Willamette City High, and there was nothing Vice Principal Whipple liked better than to lurk in the shadows just before classes started and pounce on unsuspecting violators. His speed and quickness in collaring students earned him the well–deserved nickname, The Whip.

I race–walked into the Home Arts room just as the bell rang and took a seat at a table by the window. Except for not wanting detention, I really had no reason to hurry to this class. I signed up for Holiday Cooking only because I needed a Home Arts credit. I could've waited, but I decided to take it now in my sophomore year and get it over with.

"Ah, Miss Groner. Nice of you to join us," said Ms Baker, an aptly named Home Arts teacher if ever there was one. "But please store your books over on that counter." She glanced at the clock. "I'm expecting a new student and he's going to need to sit at the end of the table right where you deposited your books."

I grabbed my books and trudged over to the counter, wondering why this new student just had to sit at the end of my table.

"Ah, Mr. Parrish. You're late," I heard Mrs. Baker say. "But since it's your first day at Willamette City High I'll excuse you this one time. You may take your place over there."

"Oh, thank you Mrs. Baker." The voice was faintly sarcastic and remotely familiar.

As I sat down I recognized the messy dark hair, the lopsided smile, and eyes that took in the whole room. "You're the jerk—"

"Hello again." He stuck out a bike–gloved hand. "I'm Keeley Parrish. Sorry about splashing you." Briefly, he flashed a grin. "It was purely unintentional, I assure you."

I didn't want to stare. But I was afraid to look away. I was so surprised to see him that it'd taken a couple seconds for it to register that he was in a wheelchair.

Then I saw his legs. Or rather, I didn't see his legs. I mean, he didn't have any legs, except for these stubs that ended a few inches above where his knees would have been. That explained parking where he did. I felt myself shrinking. "S–s–s–o you're Keeley," I finally managed to whisper as I reached over to shake his outstretched hand. With a nervous glance at Ms Baker, who was thumbing through some file cards, I added, "I–I'm Sivia Groner."

"You're friendlier than I thought from our first encounter." One corner of his mouth twisted upward. "Why is that?"

I studied his face for a moment. He completely didn't strike me as someone who was looking for pity. "Because you're not as much of a total jerk as I thought you were."

Keeley threw back his head and let out a deep laugh.

"Mr. Parrish. Ms Groner." Ms Baker tapped the file cards on her desk. "If you're quite through introducing yourselves, I'd like to get on with class."

Keeley's mouth twitched as if he was holding back another big laugh, but I felt my face turn red and hot. Five minutes into my first class of the term, and I was in trouble already! Plus, my feet were wet and cold. This Keeley Parrish guy was not getting my day off to a good start.