A Girl Called Dust by V.B. Marlowe

him
being laughed at because he always said or did something completely off the
wall. I hoped he didn’t embarrass himself, not that Fletcher was ever
embarrassed, but when people laughed at him, I was ashamed for him.
    Fletcher
stood at the front of the room, holding his paper in front of him. People
snickered, sitting on the edges of their seats, waiting for the show. As usual,
Fletcher didn’t appear to notice or care.
    He
cleared his throat. “Title. Why I like dust and why you should too.”
    By
then the laughter was more evident. Mrs. Amparo rapped on her desk with a
ruler. “Enough.”
    Mrs.
Amparo wasn’t one to be played with, so immediately the laughter stopped and
Fletcher continued. “When people think of dust, they think of the dirt that
accumulates on objects and surfaces. This type of dust seems trivial and
unimportant, but there are different types of dust. Many types of dust are
beautiful and special. One kind is fairy dust. Obviously fairy dust is used by
fairies and possesses magical properties. Fairies use fairy dust to do
incredible things.
    “Another
type of dust that is very beneficial to us is gold dust. Gold dust is fine
particles of gold. It can be very valuable and beautiful. And then there’s
stardust . . .”
    By
then everyone struggled to hold in their giggles as Mrs. Amparo looked around
disapprovingly. They weren’t laughing at Fletcher’s words but laughing because
they knew he was doing it for me.
    “Class,”
Mrs. Amparo warned, and the laughing stopped a little.
    Fletcher
went on and on about the different types of dust and the wonderful things they
do. I probably should have been embarrassed, but I wasn’t. I thought the fact
that he had dedicated his essay to making me feel better was sweet.
    During
lunch, Fletcher and I sat at an abandoned picnic area we’d discovered on the
other side of the school. It was far away from the cafeteria and the restrooms,
so it was deserted. We had to leave a minute or two before the bell rang to
make it to class on time.
    I
sat on the table close to Fletcher as we both devoured turkey sandwiches.
“Thanks for what you did in class today.”
    Fletcher
nodded. “I just wanted you to know that all dust is not a bad thing. But I
still think if it bothers you, you should say something so they’ll stop.”
    That
would never happen. They’d called me Dust for over two years now. I’d grown
used to it anyway.
    The
words Fletcher had said earlier during his speech were etched in my mind. “Did
you mean those things? What you said?”
    Fletcher
looked at me. “Of course I did. I wouldn’t have said them if I hadn’t meant
them. Mrs. Amparo only gave me a B though. Maybe I wasn’t persuasive enough.”
    At
that moment, I couldn’t help myself. His lips were just too pink and
perfect—looking as if they were begging to be kissed. I leaned in and pressed
my lips against his. His lips were soft and warm. He didn’t pull back or flinch
with disgust. I pulled away first, looking at him hopefully.
    He
watched me for a moment and then looked down at the remainder of his sandwich.
“Arden, I can’t love you.”
    Despite
Fletcher rejecting me once again, I went to sleep dreaming of fairy dust.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Part 2
     
    What I Really Am
     
     
     

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Ten
     
    We had been in school for six weeks, and
fall was in full force. Most kids had moved on from the crayfish fiasco,
although some felt obligated to bring it up from time to time when there was
nothing better to talk about.
    Bailey had somehow fallen back into
Lacey’s good graces, and she and the other bees acted as if nothing had ever
happened, but that was typical of Girl World.
    Needless to say, I was stunned on Monday
afternoon when Bailey joined Fletcher and me for lunch in our private lunch
area.
    “Hey guys,” she said a little too
cheerfully. She plopped herself on the table, leaving me sandwiched between her
and Fletcher.
    I was busy gnawing