"Meg starts all this and who has shards of glass in her face?" I said, as Chris pulled another piece out of my face, "Me! Why always me?"

"Because these types of things don't happen to Meg. They happen to people like you, people like me," he said, by way of explanation, wiping another drip of blood from my face.

"No, no, no, you've got no say in this. You're just as perfect as she is. Look at your face, no glass. You don't try in school, but you're brilliant-" I started, but he cut me off.

"You think I'm brilliant?" he asked, and cocked an eyebrow at me.

God is he gorgeous.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"Oh my God, I said that out loud," I said.

"Yes, yes you did," he grinned, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Hello," I said, gesturing at my face, "Focus!"

"Oh, I am focused. On your face," he said, "But not on the glass in it."

"Not funny," I said, turning to the mirror to try and tried to pull a piece out myself.

"Come here, come back, I'll do it," he said, pulling me towards him again, "Who knew those Pryor girls were so bad with blood, huh?"

"I knew," she shrugged, "Meg always passes out in science classes, and stuff. And this is the one reason Patty can't be a doctor or something."

"Yeah, well, I knew most girls got queasy, but I didn't know they passed out like that," he said.

"Speak for yourself," I said, "I'm not queasy and there's . ."

"God, you're such a narcissists, it's all about you all the time, huh?" he laughed, pulling another piece out of my face, which was starting to puff up around the glass. I would've told him to hurry up, but I didn't want him making fun of me anymore. My face hurt, I was scared, and it was all I could do not to cry.

"I am not a narcissist," I said, "It's never all about me; it's all about Meg, all the time. Or are you new here?"

"Well, I am new around here, but still, I can see where you're going with this," he laughed, touching my face with more gentleness than I thought boys like him could muster up.

"You could be a doctor," I said, "You're pretty good at this stuff."

"Nah," he responded, "I just used to get into a lot of fights."

"Oh," I said, "Over what? Girls?"

"Girls, stupid stuff the other guys would say about my mom, that sort of thing," he said, shrugging again.

"Do you get along well with your mom?" I asked him.

"For the most part. Just not when she's got boyfriends around," he answered.

"Same with me and my mom," I said, "Except my mom is marrying her boyfriend."

"That sucks," he said, and finally there was someone who understood things from my point of view.

"Oh totally and completely, I mean, why do you think I'm staying here? He's got these horrible evil daughters, and he wants to be my, like, new dad or something," she said, but she spoke too animatedly and her face started to bleed again.

"Stop moving around so much," he said, "And that's gotta be rough. Good thing you've got Meg."

"Yeah, well, the Pryor's are the best. Mr. Pryor's been the only real dad I've ever known, he even took me to the father-daughter dance on bandstand. I mean, he took Meg obviously, but he danced with both of us, it was really nice of him," she said, smiling at the memory, and then wincing in pain again.

"That's good. I never had anyone who looked out for me like that," he said.

"Yeah, I'm really lucky," I said, and I was going to keep talking, but he cut me off.

"You know where the washcloths are? Get me one," he said, turning on the tap to warm up the water.

I guess dad's weren't really a subject you discuss with boys who didn't have one, I thought to myself, this time making sure to not actually speak out loud.

"Here," I handed it to him, "You know, I can wash my own face."

"I figured," he said, "You're being such an independent and all."

"Give it," I said, sick of him making fun of me.

"No," he smirked, "maybe I wanna do it."

"Why would that be?" I asked, raising my eyebrow.

"Maybe I like helping out pretty girls, how about that?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry, want me to go bring you Meg to revive?" I asked, pouting slightly.

"No," he said, thumbing my lower lip that was jutting out, "I don't think that'll be necessary."

He washed my face, gently, and then he kissed me. For once someone had chosen me over Meg Pryor.