Chapter 5

I was going to have to eat around Nick Lund.

In the Lunds’ apartment, I carefully hugged the hallway wall, tiptoed down the stairs, and slithered into Boone’s bedroom.

I found him sitting on his bed. “O’Reilly, check this out.” Boone’s face glowed like a red party lantern.

I walked up to his bed and sat on the edge. “What?”

“Smell this.” He held something up to my face. It was white and crumpled like an old Kleenex.

“Are yo—ou cra—azy? I’m not g—gonna smell some old used up t—tissue.” My stuttering has become aproblem in the last year, but Boone doesn’t seem to notice.

His eyes darted up and the sun poked yellow dots into them. “Red, trust me. You need to smell this. Remember the fancy Italian chocolates Mrs. Bastone used to give us at Easter, the ones with the plastic cup at the bottom?”

I remember those. They were sweet and tangy all at once.

“This is how these panties smell.”