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clumsy, I was flung forward, my face meeting perfectly with the back of the seat in front of me.
"Are you OK?" Mark asked, genuinely concerned. I heard stifled laughter from the back seats.
"I'm fine?" I said, although it sounded more like a question. Suddenly Marc cradled my face in his hands and blew on my forehead.
"You're bleeding," he whispered so quietly I wasn't sure I hadn't imagined it.

And the he kissed me. Well, my forehead. Marc Stanley. Kissed me. I made a small yelp.
"I'm sorry, did that hurt?"
"No, it's much better," I mumbled, now certain it was a dream.
"I'll walk you home...I don't want you to get dizzy, you know..." he said. We both knew a small cut on the forehead couldn't make anyone dizzy. But we pretended it could.
"Yes, I think that might help," I said, smiling a real smile for the first time that day.

At my stop we both got up. No one, up front or in the back, suspected Marc got up to not just let me off the bus but to walk me home. When he followed close behind me I heard a whimper in the back. I glanced back, taking just enough time to notice three of the popular girls red face, their dark eyeliners streaking their well groomed faces. One could bare my small smile, she started bawling like a 5 year old immediately.
On our way to my house me and Marc held hands. In a way, I was very dizzy...

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