The (Almost) Perfect Guide To Imperfect Boys Read Free

mean—”
    Zachary shrugged. “Hey, no problem. I’ve been expecting all that Freakazoid stuff. And I’m fine with it, in fact.”
    Maya shot me a look. “You are ?”
    â€œYeah. I think it’s funny.” He blinked at me. “Don’t you think it’s funny, Finley?”
    â€œNot really,” I said, trying to spot his ears underneath the new hair.
    The second bell rang, but we didn’t move.
    â€œSo anyway. What are you doing here?” Maya asked, probably a little too curiously.
    â€œWaiting for my mom,” he said. “She’s in with Fisher-Greenglass.”
    Maya and I exchanged glances. Ms. Sara Fisher-Greenglass was the principal of Fulton Middle. You were “in” with her only if you were “in” big trouble. Or possibly getting out of it.
    â€œHuh,” Maya said. “So that means you’re coming back?”
    â€œMaybe. Don’t know yet.”
    â€œThen you might? Didn’t you get expelled for fighting with Jarret?”
    He looked surprised. “They said that? Oh no. Not expelled.”
    â€œSo what happened to you, exactly?” She folded her arms across her chest, the way she did when she thought someone was lying. “You basically disappeared in the middle of seventh grade.”
    â€œIt’s kind of complicated,” he said flatly. “You know, family stuff.”
    â€œReally? Like what?”
    â€œMaya, we’re late,” I muttered. “Señor Hansen’s going to kill us.”
    Zachary looked at me. “Hansen?” he repeated. “You have Hairy Hands for eighth-grade Spanish?”
    â€œYeah, we do,” I said. “Unfortunately.”
    â€œHow did that happen?”
    â€œWho knows. Maybe he liked torturing us so much in seventh grade he wanted a second crack.”
    â€œBut that’s not fair,” he argued. And right then he sounded exactly like the old Zachary, the one I remembered.
    â€œOkay, well, we’d better get going, then,” Maya said. “See you around, Zachary.”
    â€œYeah,” I said. “See you.”
    â€œBye, Finley,” he said, catching my eye.
    Maya and I started running down the hallway. My legs were twice as long as hers, but she was still half a step ahead of me. “ Bye, Finley,” she repeated. “What was I, invisible?”
    â€œNo, of course not. But you were sort of rude.”
    â€œHow was I rude?”
    â€œYou called him Freakazoid,” I said.
    â€œ Everyone called him Freakazoid.”
    â€œAnd you were grilling him about getting expelled. Like you didn’t believe him.”
    By then we were almost outside Spanish, so we slowed down. “Well, sure,” she murmured. “Don’t you think it’s slightly incredible that he’s back, all of a sudden? In the middle of eighth grade?”
    â€œWe don’t know what happened with his family,” I pointed out. “And anyhow, he might not be back. He said maybe .”
    â€œFisher-Greenglass wouldn’t be meeting his mom just for girl talk, Fin.”
    â€œI guess.”
    I didn’t say anything for a bit. Then I blurted out, “He did seem different to you, didn’t he?”
    â€œYou mean Froggier?”
    I laughed. “Well, yeah.”
    â€œWhat a shocker, right? Zachary the Frog. It was like he did all his Croaking in private.”
    â€œI know. Or maybe he jumped over the whole Croaker stage.”
    â€œHe couldn’t have,” Maya insisted. “Croaker is when Tadpoles get legs. You can’t jump if you don’t go through the getting-legs stage.”
    â€œTrue.” I glanced over my shoulder, but the hallway was empty. “Or maybe,” I said, “he was just a totally different person.”
    By then we’d reached room 302, so we stopped.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Maya said, laughing. “Are you saying that cute boy was an imposter