When the weather was decent, the gym teacher, Mr. Keaton, liked to hold class outside on the football field. Most of the guys in my grade had been stupidly vocal about not wanting to change in the locker room in front of the gay kid, so I saved myself the torment by never bothering to buy a gym uniform. Every class, I sat on the bleachers with the rest of the slackers. That particular day I parked my ass a section over from the stoners and pretended I didn’t see them passing around a lit cigarette when they thought Keaton wasn’t looking. Advanced Art was my next period, so with nothing else to do, I took out my sketchbook and pencil kit.
“What are you drawing?” A shadow fell across my paper.
My gaze followed Corin as he eased down on the metal bench beside me. He had such amazing cornflo
