But then another voice said, “What did you just say?”

Afton’s voice.

Chloe and I both turned. My sister had been standing behind us the whole time. A mighty third grader.

She handed her backpack to one of her friends. “Hold this for me,” she said. “I’ve got to tear this girl’s hair out.”

Chloe didn’t wait for her to act on the threat. She started to scream for our teacher. “Mrs. Yowell! Mrs. Yowell! I’m getting bullied!”

“Not yet, you’re not,” Afton said grimly, and then BAM—she punched Chloe in the nose, a punch that would have made Pop proud, but we didn’t know Pop then. A single heartfelt punch.

“AHHHH!” bellowed Chloe. Her nose was bleeding. Mrs. Yowell was running over. All the kids around us were yelling.

Afton took my hand then, and we ran, past the grown-ups who tried to intercept us like a game of football, dodging and weaving, along the school’s driveway and out onto the street, then down the street, running as fast as we could, until we ducked down a side street and hid behind someone’s trash cans.

“Why’d you do that?” I panted.

Afton rubbed her fist. “Because I’m your sister. Nobody gets to pick on you but me.”

I smiled. “You hit her.”

“It kind of hurt.”

“We’re going to be in so much trouble,” I said.

She nodded. “I will be. I’ll explain that it was all me.”

“No.” I put my hand over hers. “I want to be with you.”

“Okay,” she said.

We waited for a while and then went into a store and asked to use their phone and called Ruthie to tell her where we were and what had happened. And we did get in trouble, but Chloe got in trouble, too—in fact, the entire school had to go through another no-bullying assembly again—so it felt like justice had been served. And I learned another valuable lesson.

Afton was with me. And I was with her.

Chapter 36

36

Everything feels different, Saturday morning. For real this time. Fingers crossed. It seems like birthdays sometimes do: you wake up, one year older, and ask yourself if you’re different now, or if you’re going to be different after today.

After tonight, I think, I won’t be a virgin.

Will nonvirgin me be more of an adult? Will people sense that and treat me like a grown-up? Will I think more mature thoughts? Will I finally understand the ways of the world?

I kind of doubt it. But at least I’ll get to check the event off my life’s to-do list, so I won’t have to worry about it anymore.