Chapter One: Kayla

They called him Frog. For years he had endured the most vicious pranks and bullying at the hands of his relentless classmates, even though he was kind, funny, and oddly intriguing. A month ago, Frog disappeared, and everyone forgot about him. Nobody cared that he was gone. Except me.

"Hey Morrison! Look up!"

The warning came a millisecond before the volleyball hit me in the face. Coach Hartwell blew her whistle and walked briskly up to me.

"Morrison," she said sternly, "why don't you sit out for the rest of practice? Maybe if you watch long enough you'll remember how to play the game."

I shrugged and walked over to the bleachers while another girl took my place. I felt strangely unconcerned by Coach Hartwell's comments. I should have been offended, or at least motivated to pay attention, but I felt none of these things. I just sat there and watched the rest of my team go through various drills and plays, keeping my mind almost blank, which was a skill I had mastered over the past few weeks. There were really only two things that disturbed my apathy these days. A nauseous feeling whenever I saw Wyatt Brooks, and a subtle longing whenever I thought of Frog.

It seemed like it had been ages since I had last seen him. I went over that day in my mind often, that evening when I had come to free him from the display case. It was impossible to forget the bizarre attraction I had felt for him and the overpowering emotions that ran through my body when I kissed him. When he didn't show up for school the next few days, I thought he was sick. I called and texted him a dozen times, but he never responded. After about two weeks I gave up trying to contact him, but I still wondered what had happened to him. A small part of me thought it might have had something to do with me kissing him. It was a little ridiculous to imagine that I had that kind of power over him, and yet…

"Okay, Morrison, what's going on with you?"

Coach Hartwell's gravely voice interrupted my thoughts. She stood in front of me with her hands on her hips and an impatient expression on her face.

"Maybe I'm getting sick," I responded with little conviction.

Coach Hartwell cocked an eyebrow. "Well, if that's the case, you've been getting sick for the past three weeks. You're usually our best player, but lately you've been a limp rag. You've lost all your focus, all your drive."

I squeezed my eyes shut. It was true. Lately I'd been slipping in all my activities. I had delegated a lot of my student government responsibilities to Sadie Garrett, my Junior class vice president, I was beginning to fail in my schoolwork, and I had quit the debate team. I told myself I had done it because my mom needed more help at the diner, but really I knew it was because I didn't want to interact with Wyatt.

"I'm sorry," I said finally. "I'll do better next week."

Coach Hartwell shook her head. "Morrison, if you don't get it together soon, you're off the team."

I watched her walk away, trying to find some spark of incentive, something that would spur me to action so I could counteract her threat, but I felt nothing.

*****

"You've all fallen behind in the past month, and we have a lot to cover, so be prepared to work hard."

I stared, glassy-eyed, at Mrs. Meekum, our new chemistry lab instructor. Mrs. Clements was still on suspension because of that fiasco where she nearly blew up the lab, and for the past few weeks we'd had a substitute that mostly showed us old chemistry videos. The lab was crowded since the two classes were still combined, but even with so many students in the room, there were two empty chairs. One was next to me where Miranda used to sit. She was now practically sitting on top of Wyatt, whispering in his ear while he looked smug. The other empty seat was in the back of the room, next to Milo Kowalski, where Frog used to sit.

"I'm going to give you a series of take home assignments that I expect you all to finish by next Friday," Mrs. Meekum continued, walking around the tables and handing thick packets to each of the students. I leafed through the stack of papers, noting that I would probably do none of the assignments. Just then, the vice principal, Mrs. Youngblood, came through the door.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Meekum, but could I borrow you for a second? I just need you to fill out some quick paperwork."

Mrs. Meekum gave us a stern glare and then followed Mrs. Youngblood into the hallway. As soon as she was gone, the classroom erupted into murmurs and groans about all of the homework Mrs. Meekum had given us. I pretended to study a poster on the wall, keenly aware that I had no one to talk to. Suddenly there was an outburst of giggles from the other side of the room. I turned just in time to see Wyatt tickling Miranda. As she tried to squirm out of his clutches, she lost hold of her pen and it rolled back near Milo's table.

"Oh, Milo, would you mind getting that for me?" She asked sweetly.

Milo frowned for a moment, then shrugged and started to retrieve the pen. But as he leaned over, his chair came with him and he collapsed on the floor. Miranda and Wyatt burst into laughter, and more students joined in as Milo struggled to get upright with the chair stuck to his pants.

"Oops, sorry Milo," Miranda said with a mischievous smile, "I forgot that I spilled super glue on your chair earlier." She held up the tube of glue, which caused everyone to laugh louder.

I felt sick. I'd noticed in the past couple weeks that Milo had become a victim to the pranks that had usually fallen on Frog, and he wasn't handling it well. He had turned bright red and was gripping the side of his table, as if trying to keep himself from losing control. Looking at him, I was filled with sudden indignation. For the first time in weeks, I was motivated to take action, to do something I'd never had the courage to do before. I stood up quickly and stomped over to Miranda and Wyatt.

"Stop it," I hissed, leveling a nasty glare straight at Wyatt.

Most people stopped laughing, but Wyatt continued to smile at me. "Or what?" He asked. "You'll make us all decorate for the next dance?"

There were some snickers around the room at his comment, but I ignored them.

"No, but I might put you on display," I said meaningfully.

Wyatt stood up, his eyes roving over my entire body before he looked back up at my face. "I should have known you'd try defend him," he said lazily. "Everyone knows you have a soft spot for losers."

"I guess that would explain why I dated YOU."

Some people gasped, but Wyatt just gave me a familiar smirk. The events of the homecoming dance rushed back into my mind, and I stepped back. His overt confidence made me lose some of mine. Thankfully, at that moment the bell rang, and the tension broke as everyone started heading out the door. Miranda shouldered me as she walked past, but it was Wyatt's haunting sneer that affected me the most.

I turned around and saw Milo ripping the chair off of his pants, losing one of his back pockets in the process. He looked at me and gave me a sad smile, and as our eyes met I thought I could guess what was going through his mind. I wasn't the only one who missed Frog.