This from one of the four football players who’d just caught up to them. Forced to run in their pads by their coach, they slowed down to pass, three of them eyeballing Summer with leering grins.

Ignoring them, Summer smiled only at the fourth boy. He was Danny, the school’s star quarterback. Tall, dark, and yummy, he was the cutest guy in the school, and she wanted him to take her to her prom so badly she could taste it. She’d been wearing her lucky charm bracelet all week in hopes that it would work its magic.

“Hi Summer,” he said in a reverent tone, taking an elbow in the ribs for doing so. He gave an elbow back. “How are you doing?”

She felt a dopey grin split her face. “Good.”

“Oh, jeez. Move.” One of the others shoved Danny out of his way.

If Danny was the cutest guy in Ocean Beach, then Mitch was their village idiot. Still jogging backward, he sent a bunch of wet disgusting kissy noises toward Summer while two of his fellow idiots hooted and hollered. “What do you say, Flower Power Girl? You and me. Tonight. Ditch Fat Boy here and let me show you what a real guy does with his hands. And trust me, it won’t be taking pics—unless you want me to.”

“Shut up, Mitch,” Joe said.

Summer glanced at him, silently begging him to let it go. But he never let anything go. Instead he wore his heart—and temper—on his sleeve for the world to stomp on. The last time he’d confronted Mitch and gang, he’d gotten a black eye and fat lip out of the deal. Little damage compared to what Joe’s father could do on a drunken rampage, but still.

“Come on, Summer.” Mitch had a nasty smile that made her skin crawl. “How about a little show ’n’ tell? I’ll show you mine, you show me yours. And I don’t mean your fancy little crystals either.” He laughed uproariously over this until Joe growled and lunged forward, hands fisted, camera banging awkwardly around his neck.

“Joe, no,” Summer cried, and hauled him back by the shirt.

“Joe, no,” Mitch taunted, but Danny finally grabbed his friend and shoved him along, flashing a glance back at Summer with an apology in his eyes.

She smiled her thanks.

He smiled back.

It made her knees wobble, and for a moment as they kept running, she just stared after him, sending ask-me-to-the-prom thoughts his way. Then she turned to Joe.

He’d left the track.

“Joe? Where’re you going?”

He didn’t slow, and given the speed he’d taken on, he’d finally gotten his second wind.