“I like your smile,” I blurted. I didn’t mean to, but then I blushed, and she blushed, too.

“I think I like yours, too,” she admitted. “You’re gentle, and I appreciate it.”

I was glad someone appreciated me. I was especially glad it was Mel. I hadn’t known her for long, but she was already so special to me. I wanted to tell her, but I was afraid to. What if it didn’t work out? She might have been too punk rock, and maybe I was too hip-hop. But somewhere along the line, she made my heart dance like a rock she was skipping across the ocean. Mel made me break routine. I liked it because my life had always been set in stone for the most part. I would do the same things — go to school, get bullied, go home and cry, stress eat, gain more weight — it was a circle that led me nowhere. But then I met the hard-ass, confident, illuminating soul that was Melody. I wanted to tell her that I thought she was wonderful, and that I had a crush on her, and that she was the first girl to make me ever feel butterflies. Serious butterflies.

“Hey —” I began.

“Hey, what?” she interrupted. “If you’re gonna say something, say it.”

“I’m trying, okay?” I lowered my shoulders and took a breath.

That’s when she realized I was serious and said, “All right,” in a soft voice.

When you tell someone that you like them, there is always this awkward moment before and after you say anything, because you know something is coming, but you’re just not quite sure how it’s going to sound. I knew what I wanted to say. I wanted to tell Mel that I thought she was wonderful, and that I had a crush on her, and that she was someone I’d like to take to a dance or on a date. But words don’t come so easy when you’re terrified. So, a lot of the conversation was me reciting poetic masterpieces like: “Hey . . . I think you’re pretty great.” Or: “I’m, uhhh, pretty bad at this, but you, um, you’re great.” And the best one yet: “So, I know we have different music tastes but you’re still pretty great.”

She frowned and asked, “Are you trying to tell me that you like me?”

Even though that was exactly what I’d been trying to say, answering was still not easy. But I took a shot in the dark. “Yeah. I like you . . . a lot . . . and stuff.” I shied away from eye contact. Anxiety landed in my chest like a spiky lump. I was sure I had just ruined something great. I shouldn’t have said anything. I shut my eyes and wished the roof of the school would open up and swallow me. Then I felt her hand underneath my chin. I opened my eyes as she turned my face toward her.