“Hey!  Hey!” squeaked Peter, completely bewildered by the forward action of the apparently headstrong Amy, grasping roughly at her fingers in an effort to get himself put down, but her grip was far too strong to budge.  “I… I… s-sorry, really, but p-please…” he gasped, his legs dangling hopelessly in the empty space.

                “Amy!” whispered Kimmy hurriedly.  “Don’t get us DETENTION on the first day!”

                “Relax…” cooed Amy to her friend, waving an uncaring hand.  “I’m just saying hello.”  She brought her face in closer to Peter, squinting, and made a comical face at him with widened eyes and a lopsided smile.  “How you doin’ little guy?”

                “I… I…”

                “Amy, let him down,” said Sharon, rolling her eyes, obviously more annoyed at Amy’s childish behavior than fearful for Peter himself.  “FYI, Amy: Totally not going to take the hit for this when the teacher blows his stack at you.”

                “Okay, okay, cool it,” groaned Amy, lowering her hand back to the table and roughly releasing her grip on Peter’s shirt.  She winked at him, the corner of her mouth tipping slightly upward.  The tip of her tongue poked out from between her lips playfully.  “He knows I’m just playing, right?”

                “Um,” gulped Peter, remembering his promise to himself to not mess up the opportunity to make friends.  “Y-Yeah?”

                “Amy, look!  You scared him!” moaned Kimmy, laying her head on the desktop.  “You’re gonna make him hate us, and we just met him.”

                “I’m not scared, really!” interjected Peter, wanting to maintain any kind of positive relationship with any of his fellow classmates.  “It’s okay.  I… I normally just like being asked first, that’s all.”

                “See?  Told you,” complained Kimmy over to Amy, who was feigning remorse with a shrug and a roll of her brown eyes.  “Now look what you did.”

                “Okay, okay.  Look.  I’m sorry, Peter, okay?” asked Amy, looking partially cross-eyed at the tiny boy before her.  Clearly, she wasn’t so much sorry as just sick of hearing her friend’s pestering.

                “It’s fine, really,” laughed Peter as reassuringly as possible.

                “Morning, class!” called out Mr. Browning as he marched into the room with a spring in his step.  “Summer’s over, and school is IN, so I want heads off the desks and minds alert, because we’re going to learn about your favorite subject!” he cheered over-enthusiastically, the sarcasm thick in his voice.  “Now, I’m sure it said it on your schedules, but my name is Mr. Browning, and I love HISTORY.  As I’m sure you all do, as well,” he said with a sly grin as the class half-moaned at the mere idea.  “Before we get going, though, I think, since we’re all in high school now, it would be nice to get to know each other a little.  So, I want you to find someone you DON’T know.  Yes, someone who’s NOT your best friend.  And I want you to chat with them.  Make a new friend.  It’s fun.  Okay, go!” he rattled off with a clap of his hands, clearly practiced at his yearly opening routine.

                Peter’s eyes scanned around the room.  Most of the people were clearly ignoring Mr. Browning’s instruction and grabbing the arms of their friends to form a group.  Only one person besides himself didn’t lunge for another human being.  In the corner of the room sat a girl Peter hadn’t even noticed as his sister placed him on his chosen desk. 

The girl’s red hair seemed almost to be catching aflame from the sheen of its radiance.  Her face was speckled with freckles, all along her rose cheeks, which seemed to pop even more with her sparkling green eyes.  Peter’s own eyes traced along her simple olive sweater, down her jeans, and to her worn-out white tennis shoes.  He was almost surprised, just as he had been upon seeing Kimmy; the girl appeared rather short, and Peter guessed she couldn’t have been more than a couple inches over five feet.  Of course, to Peter, this was still massive, but the boy had learned to accurately gauge the relative size of people despite the fact that everyone he met dwarfed him like an office building might to a regular-sized being. 

Peter couldn’t help but blush a little; she was cute.

                More than her physical appearance, though, Peter noticed how isolated she appeared in the back corner of the room.  He opened his mouth and reached out an arm as if to call out to her, but he found himself quickly snapped back to reality as a gigantic, tanned hand came crashing down in front of him, fingers splayed, slapping into the desk within reaching distance of his tiny arms; the force, to Peter, felt equivalent to a tectonic shift, and he rolled onto his back as the surface vibrated violently, the hand’s thumb coming calmly to rest right in front of him.  He heard the deep, slightly throaty laugh that followed, and didn’t even need to follow the long, toned arm back to its owner to know it was Amy who had done it.

                “Amy, oh my God, seriously?” whined Kimmy, rubbing at her hair nervously.  “What’s wrong with you?”

                “Nothing’s wrong with me, Kimmy,” answered Amy almost dreamily, as her wide eyes were still fully trained on Peter as she lifted her hand off the desk, curling her fingers together into a soft fist.  Her chocolate brown irises seemed to hide a thirsty glint: a glimmer of unbalanced desire.  “I just wanted him to look at me again.”

                “It’s fine,” blinked Peter a few times, biting his lip.  Just nerves, he told himself meekly in his mind.  New experiences.

                “Is it really okay, little guy?” asked Amy, scrunching up her face cutely and speaking in an over-exaggerated baby voice to Peter as she stared down at him uppishly.  “I didn’t scare you, did I?”

                “No, no, no… I’m… I’m fine…” stuttered Peter.

                “Guess what?” she asked with a huge grin, her wide pink lips parting, revealing her perfect white teeth.

                “Uh… what?” gulped Peter more anxiously than he meant to sound.

                “I want YOU in MY group,” she chuckled, gently placing her curled fist against her chest to indicate herself, as if Peter wasn’t clear on this fact.  “How’s that sound?”

                “I… um,” swallowed Peter.  However, he quickly reminded himself that he simply had to bite the bullet and keep on going in order to make some friends.  “Sure.  Yeah, that sounds great, I…”

                “Cool,” she sighed, propping her arm up on the desk, and resting her chin on her upturned palm, gazing down at the small boy before her, only semi-aware of her friends by this point.  Peter could see her thoughtfully biting her lip, as if contemplating something.

                “Tell us about yourself,” said Kimmy eagerly, leaning forward and brandishing her partially discolored teeth with a proud smile.  “What’s your favorite movie?”

                Peter opened his mouth to answer, but he was quickly cut off before he could speak.

                “Oh, don’t ask him that,” said Sharon, annoyed again.  “Who cares about that?”

                “I do…” mumbled Kimmy, crossing her arms and sticking up her lip in spiteful defeat.

                “Well, I don’t,” shrugged Sharon, locking eyes with Peter and causing him to tremble with the intensity of her stare.  “Sorry.”

                “That’s… that’s f-fine…” said Peter as calmly as possible.  He wasn’t sure what it was.  Amy was still making him nervous, but he was pretty sure it was just due to her overly aggressive nature.  And Kimmy was just being a little immature.

                But Sharon.  Something about Sharon was causing a cold sweat to form along Peter’s back.  She hadn’t done anything to call for this.  But as Peter stared into her eyes, he couldn’t help but get the sensation that the steely sight of those oceanic blue-grays was going to turn him into stone.  Like she was acting physically on him without moving a muscle.

                A simple stare.

                Peter felt woozy, and he had no idea why.

                “Tell me,” said Sharon, leaning forward confidently.  “What’s it like… being so small?”  Despite the questioning way in which Sharon worded it, there was a calm, understood immediacy in her sentence.  As if she was commanding the boy to answer her.  It sent a fresh set of chills down Peter’s spine as he watched her silvery-blonde hair hanging like an endless fleece draped over her angelic face.

                “Sharon!” groaned Kimmy, laying her head back down on the desk.  “And you told me to…”

                “It’s okay, really,” said Peter with a wave of his hands and a reassuring grin, snapped out of his stupor.  “I… I don’t mind talking about that.”

                “Great.  So… tell me what it’s like,” repeated Sharon, her voice warm.  She leaned forward even further until she was straining across her own desk, her head now very close to the edge of Peter’s desk.  He took a few steps forward, as if compelled mentally to do so.  He stopped himself quickly, though, clearing his throat.

                “It’s not so bad, really,” said Peter.  “I know I’m different and everything, but my family helps take care of me, and I’ve got friends.  And… I just like to learn stuff.  Anything I can.  I used to be homeschooled, but now I’m here.  It’s… a little harder.  Than for most people, anyway.  Probably.  I mean…” stuttered Peter, losing his confidence as he attempted to avoid big-headedness.

                “Relax short stuff.  I get it,” said Sharon.  By now, she was so close, her hot breath was able to roll over Peter as if from a dry ice machine.  It counteracted the chills, making him feel like he’d just stepped into the aura of a stone oven from a snowstorm.  Goose bumps popped up along his arms.  He inhaled, the stinging scent of her cinnamon chewing gum piping along his nose and mouth.  The air around him had suddenly become warm, sticky, and spicy with the fragrance. 

Intoxicating.

                “That’s really, really awesome,” said Amy, shaking her head in seeming acceptance, her unblinking eyes still locked to the little boy.  “So… you just decided to come to normal school?  Just like that?”

                “Um, yeah, I guess,” said Peter with a nervous smile, scratching at the back of his head.

                “I know new schools can be freaky,” said Sharon, catching the boy’s attention again, as his consciousness had momentarily been fully diverted to taking in the massive and lanky Amy’s brief statement as she leaned back in her chair, still towering over him like a healthily colored monument.  “I moved to this city a few years ago, so I know what it’s like.  Believe me…”

                “Oh…” said Peter, not sure how to respond as he received another steaming blast of cinnamon air.

                “So you’re going to be our friend.  And we’ll help you out.  You know, ‘til you get used to it.  Right, girls?” Sharon asked, shooting a side glance to Kimmy and Amy, both of whom shook their heads with cheeky smiles.

                Peter gulped, nodding and returning the gesture.  “Yeah!  That’d be… that’d be great!”  Even as he spoke the words, though, Peter couldn’t help but feel a strange sensation in his gut.