Last Stand by Niki Burnham Page B

you.”
     
    “Yeah? I have something for you, too.” I lean in to kiss her, but she giggles and pushes on my chest with one hand.
     
    “That’s not what I meant, dork boy. “ She eases her camo backpack off her shoulder, unzips it, then pulls out a gift wrapped in sparkly silver paper. “I know I should wait ‘til after school, but I’m dying to see what you think. Happy anniversary.”
     
    “You didn’t have to get me a present.” Even though I got her one. I’m not the total dumbass Griff says.
     
    “Open it already!”
     
    I hike my backpack further up my shoulder and take the gift. I prop it on the windowsill and she cuddles in beside me, watching as I start to unwrap. Within seconds, I see the cover of the book. Correction: The Book. Capital T, capital B.
     
    “
Hour by Hour: The True Story of the Alamo
,” I read aloud.
     
    “You didn’t buy it for yourself already, did you?”
     
    I shake my head. It came out this past Saturday; I know because I’ve been waiting for it for months.
     
    “Oh, yay!” Her arm is around my back, just at the top of my shorts. I can smell her perfume. Or shampoo. I’m never sure which, but it’s delicious. I’ve missed that smell. Lately, she’s reeked of old grilled cheese and dried-up ice cream. Eau de Friendly.
     
    She says, “I know it’s the kind of thing you love—famous last stands and all that. Keira said you’d been talking about getting some Alamo book, and the woman at the bookstore told me this one is brand new. The guy won a Pulitzer for his book about Pancho Villa, so I figured that even if this wasn’t the right Alamo book, you might like it.”
     
    “It’s exactly the right Alamo book.” I’ll have to remember to thank my sister later. I turn so Amber and I are hipbone to hipbone, right there against the row of windows. “Thank you.”
     
    “Happy anniversary, Toby.”
     
    The warning bell for first period rings, but I just smile at her perfect, freckled face and kiss her. This time she kisses me back.
     
    Yep. I’m officially the luckiest guy in the building.
     
    Someone yells at us to get a room. Amber pulls away, but she’s still smiling, and it’s the same lovesick-happy grin she had at the beginning of the summer, on the night we almost did it. Capital I and T. The night before she started her incarceration at Friendly’s. “Time for band, I guess.”
     
    “Yep. Let’s go.” She gives me a final kiss, then slides her hand into mine for the walk outside and across the quad to band.
     
    Man, I am glad to be back at school and done with summer. I need my Amber.
     
    • • •
     
    During sixth period American History, I feel a vibration in my pocket just as Ms. Lewis finishes going over page three of the mind-numbing seventeen page class syllabus. I wait until her back is turned, then pull out my cell phone. Careful to keep it under the desk, I read the text message from Keira:
     
know you’re in class but stewie sick…daycare called…need to pick him up then take him to doc. pls pls pls cover for me for hour or so after practice? appt at 4:45 will try to be fast…will pay you.
     
    Crap. I’ll have to go straight from cross country to the coffee shop, which means no time for homework if I want to go to Amber’s later. But if Stewart’s sick, I gotta help. Mom still doesn’t get the difference between a cappuccino and a latte. Plus, Keira feels bad enough about having to live at home; asking Mom or Dad to fill in for her at the coffee shop would border on self-torture. Under the desk, I text back an okay. Between classes, I text Amber to tell her I might not be able to make it over tonight, that my sister needs help.
     
    I slide into seventh period just as the bell rings and hope like mad that Amber’s not too pissed.
     
    • • •
     
    “Toby, you so rock,” Keira says as she whips off her green Fair Grounds apron. She looks twice as tired I feel, and I just finished a three-mile run.
     
    I hope I