The Bro Code (Wattpad Books Edition)

RULE NUMBER 2: A BRO SHALT NOT GET "OUT" IN DODGEBALL.

Two mornings later, it was the third day of my fourth and final year of torture, otherwise known as high school. My Mustang gently clanked as it came to rest in our favorite parking spot: last row, last space in the student lot before the neighboring baseball field. Whoever had come up with the idea to end an outfield right at the parking lot was an evil genius—every time a player hit a home run, it could fly right into some kid's windshield— which turns out to be an extremely effective way to stop students from loitering after school.

Mr. Hoover, the morning hall monitor, was for sure going to give me a tardy slip. Even though the school day had started ten minutes ago, I still stopped to rest my head against the steering wheel, a soft buzzing making my thoughts fuzzy.

Last night's sleep had been a frenzy of kind-of worries and almost solutions. There were too many things to think about, from my stupid psychology homework to how super annoying my dad was to the possible extinction of bananas and how devastating that would be to pancake breakfasts everywhere.

The student parking spaces were in the back of the high school, and the faculty lot was in the front. Only upperclassmen had spots, since you needed a license to get a permit, but that didn't keep freshmen and sophomores from hanging around the rear entrance with their disgusting smoking and worse gossip.

Seeing them, I groaned and forced the sticky car door to creak open, wincing as the muggy August air welcomed me to hell. My backpack weighed on my shoulders as if trying to prevent me from taking another step.

"It's my backpack's fault." Yeah, Mr. Hoover would give me two tardy slips if I'd tried that one.

The sun hid behind damp clouds, which made the school's "Go Owls!" graffitied brick walls and fractured sidewalks stick out even more. You'd never guess the entire building had been renovated three years ago—glistening hallways, no more fluorescent lighting, and alarms that'd go off if you tried to leave through emergency exits. A handful of students loitered around the back staircase, greeting me with fist bumps and "'Sup, Maguire?"

Their puffs of grassy weed hung in the muggy air like sad balloons. Holding my breath, I nodded back and hurried past them, careful not to get any whiff of it on my clothes, or Coach Dad would run me extra hard for a month. It had never occurred to the teachers that students would start smoking that early in the morning, though you'd get suspended on the spot if you tried it in this same exact location a few hours later.

As I reached the top of the dank, dirty staircase, the door clicked open and crashed into my shin. This would've hurt, except all my years of soccer had shot those shin nerves ages ago.

"Oops," came the voice of Madison Hayes. Her rosy perfume did not mix well with the smoke, making me cough when she stepped closer.

If someone were to say I was "in a relationship," it would be with Madison. We were the total opposite of official, though we'd been known to have some PDA that could rival any other couple, Instagram relationships included. Madison was cool about it, though, and didn't make "us" to be a whole big thing. The few times we did talk to each other, it was mostly complaining about our families.

Madison pushed her chest into mine and trapped me against the rusty railing. Her wavy black hair tossed itself onto my shoulder, sending shivers down my arms as she pulled back.

"Long time no see, handsome," she said.

I cleared my throat. "Yo."

"Nick Maguire, don't ignore me." She put her foot out, somehow filling an entire doorway with her crystal eyes and stickthin stature.

Despite the heavy humidity, she wore an oversized sweatshirt and cut-off shorts. Other (probably jealous) girls often said that Madison tried too hard to look like she wasn't trying hard. I had it on good authority, however, that the sweatshirt was intended to cover up whatever, um, teeny tiny little hickeys might have, uh, appeared on her neck a few days before.