Scorpion Shards by Neal Shusterman

ashamed of—peeping was low on her shame list.
    â€œI don’t care if everyone forgets me,” said Michael. “I’m just sick of feeling This Way, okay?”
    â€œWhat way?”
    â€œYou wouldn’t understand.”
    â€œHow do you know?”
    Michael looked down at the bulge in his pants. They were too tight down there, as always, and in this warped little moment, he didn’t care who he told or how dumb it sounded.
    â€œDo you know what it’s like to feel totally crazed all of the time? To wake up That Way, and go to class That Way, and not be able to sleep at night because of Those Thoughts going through your head, and then when you do sleep, to be invaded by Those Kind of dreams? They say we got hormones, right? Well, I don’t have hormones, I am a hormone—one big mutated hormone with a thousand hands and a million eyes. It’s like that hormone has eaten me alive, and there’s nothing left of me . Do you know how that feels?
    Lourdes, to her credit, took the question very seriously. “No,” she said. “But I do know what it’s like to be fat. So fat that I can’t sit down in a movie theater. So fat that I have toride in elevators alone. So fat that when I take a bath, there’s no room for any water in the tub. If anyone should jump into the sea, it should be me.”
    Michael shrugged, feeling embarrassed. “Naah. You’d probably bounce.”
    Lourdes considered this. “Or splat like a water balloon.”
    â€œGross!” Michael looked at Lourdes. She was truly hideous to behold, even in this dim light.
    Lourdes smiled at him and Michael backed off. Was this a trick? Was she just after him like all the other girls? After all, she could not be immune to his full-moon effect, could she?
    â€œNice try,” said Michael. “I’m not going to kiss you, so get lost.” He turned toward the edge of the cliff again, contemplating it.
    â€œKiss you? I don’t want to kiss you, your breath smells like onions.”
    This got Michael’s interest. “What do you mean you don’t want to? Don’t you find me irresistible?”
    â€œI can resist you just fine,” said Lourdes. “I mean, you don’t use enough deodorant, your clothes are ugly, your hair is stringy—”
    Michael grinned, unable to believe his ears. “Go on! Tell me more!”
    â€œLet’s see. You’ve got a crooked lower tooth, your eyebrows are like caterpillars, you got no butt at all . . .”
    Michael practically jumped for joy. “That’s great,” he said. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been able to talk to someone without them either wanting to beat the crap out of me, or make out with me? Do you know how long it’s been since I could talk to a girl without feeling you-know-how? This is great!” Michael could have gone on for hours contemplating the deep ramifications of their mutual lack of attraction,but hearing about how unattractive Michael found her didn’t seem to make Lourdes too happy. He looked at her swollen form and wondered how a girl could get this way.
    â€œYou know, you’d probably lose weight if you ate less,” offered Michael.
    â€œI’ll tell you a secret,” said Lourdes. Her head rolled forward on her neckless body, and she whispered in her cotton-padded voice: “I haven’t eaten in months.”
    â€œNo way!”
    â€œIt’s true—not a bite, and still I get fatter. Almost a pound every day.”
    â€œThat’s wild!”
    Lourdes smiled. “As wild as your man-eating hormone, maybe?”
    They looked at each other, both beginning to realize that their similarities ran far deeper that they could have imagined—and then, without warning, the sky exploded.
    A burst of green, and then a strange pink light lit up the heavens; it shook Michael and Lourdes to the core of their