Reasons I Fell for the Funny Fat Friend - By Becca Ann Page 0,3

takes to shower and get dressed, morning stank has officially left my room, replaced with cologne and aftershave.

I yank out my homework and slam it on top of my cluttered desk. Homework blows. I asked Quynn once what the point of it all was. She just rolled her eyes and told me to shut up. Then I think I blacked out watching her bend over to pick up all the papers I’d tossed to the floor. Man, that ass.

Whoa! Brody, focus! She’s not even here and you’re mentally stripping her.

First, Calculus. Better get the tough stuff over with.

Two hours later, Calculus book has a drool stain on it, and Mom’s yelling down the stairs.

“Brody! Answer your phone!”

Huh?

The standard ringtone gets cut off as soon as my fumblin’ fingers hit the answer button. “Hello?”

“Hey, you got a bunch o’ crap at my house. Come get it before Nicole gets here. She needs the room.”

Ah, douchebag brother.

“Nicole’s moving in?”

“Yeah. So come get your stuff.”

“Fine.”

Click.

Yeah, I really don’t know why I own a phone.

“Yo, Mom!” I call into the kitchen as I tug my shoes on by the door. “Mind if I take the car to Gabe’s? I got stuff there he wants me to grab.”

“Sure, but please don’t stay long.” The edge to her voice says everything she thinks about my brother right now. “And take your phone!”

“I got it.” Door opens. “Be back in a bit.” Door closes.

One of these days I’ll get my own car, but for right now I have to make a Chevy Corsica look cool. I got my work cut out for me.

Douchebag brother lives about twenty minutes away, but with the way I floor it, I’m there in ten.

My ‘crap’ is on the porch. At least I don’t have to talk to him.

I chuck the box in the trunk and crank up the radio. He makes everything turn to junk.

It starts to rain, and the windshield wipers need to be replaced. I put it on my mental checklist of stuff I gotta tell Mom. Right next to ‘no more tomatoes’ and ‘disowning Gabe’.

Clunk.

Did I hit something? What the hell was that noise?

Thump.

Uh, yeah. Can’t be good.

The car slows.

What now?

The car stops.

Dammit. No gas. Wish Mom would’ve told me it was running on fumes. But at least I didn’t just kill a little girl’s cat.

The rain picks up—of course—and I hurry and push the car to the side of the road. Please let me have a gas can.

“Brody?”

I whip around. “Hayley?”

Her curvy figure comes into focus as she jogs over. She’s carrying an umbrella and balancing a book on her head, her high ponytail holding it in place. I have to blink a few times to make sure I’m not hallucinating.

“Do you need help?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Okay, do you seriously think I’m goin’ to ignore the book on your head?”

She giggles. “The safest place for it is up there. It’s a library book, and I don’t want it to get wet.”

Bizarre girl. Why am I laughing with her?

“Well, I’d offer you a lift, but I’m kind of stranded.”

I pop the trunk. Oh good, a gas can.

“How about this…?” She puts the umbrella over my head and takes a step closer. “You let me put my book in your car to stay dry, and I’ll walk to a gas station with you so you don’t have to look like you’ve just gone diving in the South Pacific.”

I chuckle… again. Dude, what is that?

“Deal.” I don’t mind getting a little wet, but I don’t mind company either.

“Awesomesauce.”

Do people actually say that? She grabs the book and chucks it in my trunk before I shut it.

“Okay, you have to hold this ‘cause you’re taller. I’m not tiring my arm out for you.”

Why do I keep laughing at her? It’s not like she’s being funny. And I’m not normally a nervous laugher. Huh…

“Hello?” She waves the umbrella and the rain splashes down my back.

“Sorry,” I say grabbing it from her. “I got this, so you have to hold this.” I stick the gas can in her hand. She jerks back when I touch her.

Maybe she’s a germ-a-phobe.

“How gentlemanly of you,” she jokes. Crap, should I have carried both?

She starts giggling and swinging the gas can as we walk, so I don’t feel as bad about it.

“You don’t live around here, do you?” I’m horrible at small talk.

“Nah. I was at the library and missed the bus, so I decided to walk to the next stop. I hate waiting.”

Duh, Brody. “Guess