“Three what?” I ask, smiling, and reach up to touch her hair. A risk. Trust, even before Solange’s song “Don’t Touch My Hair,” I received the memo. But Carli just kissed me, so I figure I get a pass. Plus, I’ve never seen hair so big and long and red and brown and kinky and coily on one person’s head at the same time. It’s soft and smells like jasmine.

“Four . . . five . . . six. Oh, that one’s nice,” she says, and turns to touch my face with her free hand. She grimaces and straightens out a little. “But I think I like this one best,” she says, and rubs her pointer finger in a tiny circle on the side bridge of my nose before bringing her arm back down.

She must be talking about my moles. I hate my moles. Hardly ever have to see them since I avoid mirrors. But hearing her talk about them is almost making me want to break out my phone and look at myself. Almost. Instead, I bend down and press my lips to her hand. Then I lift her hand—slightly, gently—and hold it between my hands. “Thank you,” I say.

“Sure thing,” she says, and nods.

“No, not about the moles.”

“So, what are you thanking me for then? Kissing you?” she asks, head cocked to the side, cute and confident as can be.

“No,” I say, and laugh, trying to think of a good way to put it. But I can’t. Man, it’s like one day I’m getting through life alone, hanging on to any kind of happiness I can find. I mean, I’m doing pretty good, despite the circumstances.

But then—bam! —here Carli comes, and it’s like a whole new world. A world where I don’t have to feel so damn lonely anymore. “A whole new wooorrld,” I’m singing before I can even stop myself. Man, this girl has me acting corny as hell!

She laughs the cutest laugh, high-pitched and throaty, with her button nose pinching along the bridge and her straight white teeth showing.

I’ll be a cornball all day every day if this is the reward.

“Aladdin? You are not singing the Aladdin song right now!”

And then a different voice, a much deeper voice, from behind, “Rex!”

A whistle blows. Sneakers squeak against the gym floor. People around us chant “Defense!” as our JV team takes the ball up the court. Two girls, a bench up behind Carli, are snickering and looking at us. Trying to reorient myself to the world outside of Carli is making me dizzy. Everything’s rushing at me all at once.

“Rex!” I hear again, closer.

Carli looks up, over my right shoulder, and the residue of laughter wipes clean off her face.

CARLI