Lola strolled down Eighty-second Street Monday after school. She hadn’t seen Andie since she dropped her off at homeroom, and she’d spent the day feeling helpless and alone, like the geeky girl in some after-school special. In world history, a cute blond girl had asked the teacher if the Ashton Prep uniform included days-of-the-week knickers. Everywhere she went, it seemed like people were whispering about her and giggling behind her back.
The afternoon sun warmed up her body and she smiled as she turned down Fifth Avenue, remembering where she was headed. She couldn’t wait to see Kyle. He’d promised her a “first day of school” ice cream after his band practice, just like old times.
Lola approached the Mister Softee truck on the corner, where a little boy with a fruit punch mustache waited in line with his mother. Across the street, two muscular guys were break dancing on a sheet of cardboard outside Central Park. Lola waited patiently. Any minute, Kyle would be pulling his baritone horn up the street on his hand trolley, with his too-big-for-his-face glasses. She smiled just thinking about him.
“Sticks!” an unfamiliar voice called out her old nickname. Lola turned back to the ice cream truck. In front of it stood…
“Kyle?” she squeaked.
The boy standing before her was almost unrecognizable. Kyle had filled out and gotten a tan, and he wasn’t wearing his glasses. His brown eyes twinkled against his dewy skin. His hair was still spiky, but less Harry Potter dorky and more Zac Efron hottie. And…he was tall.
“Hey!” Kyle grinned as he handed the man in the truck a few wrinkled bills. The man set them in a battered shoe box, gently patting his sweaty forehead with a single.
Lola stepped toward Kyle, her long skinny legs feeling suddenly unsteady. She eyed the black guitar case slung over his back. “Um, what happened to your baritone horn?” she asked stupidly.
Kyle laughed and pushed his bangs off his forehead. “Oh man, I forgot about that thing. I’ve been playing guitar for the last couple years.”
Lola untucked her blond hair from her ears. Across the street, one of the break-dancers spun around on his head.
“You still play the viola?” Kyle asked, taking two chocolate cones from the man’s hands. Chocolate ice cream and Fanta orange soda had always been their favorites. Bonus points if had together.
“I do!” Lola said, her voice a little shrill. She stared into Kyle’s warm brown eyes, suddenly nervous. She could feel the sweat pooling at the small of her back. She glanced at Kyle’s ankles for reassurance, but the white tube socks and Tevas he used to wear had been replaced with Adidas sneakers.
Kyle handed her a cone and Lola grabbed for it quickly, knocking it into the front of his shirt. The cone smashed onto the ground, leaving a trail of brown sludge behind it.
Lola pulled a tissue from her pink Gap purse and pressed it to his shirt. It fell apart, leaving huge white papery clumps. “Oh, no…”
She brought her hands to her freckled face and stared at the sidewalk. The chocolate puddle inched toward her Reef flipflops.
“I guess some things never change, Sticks.” Kyle laughed, pulling the wet fabric away from his chest.
A group of Ashton Prep girls crossed the street toward the park. A redhead with a squished face pointed over her shoulder at Kyle and the other girls stole glances at him.
Lola’s whole body felt like it had been set on fire, her skin hot and red. It was obvious what they were saying: Who on earth is Kyle Lewis with? And more importantly, um, why?
And suddenly, Lola asked herself the same thing.
They’d met up less than five minutes ago, but already Kyle could be filed under PEOPLE WHO WILL NOT BE SEEN IN PUBLIC WITH LOLA CHILDS, right next to Stella, Cate, and everyone else in New York City.