diary of a wimpy kid · awkward · gross-out humor · middle school · socially inept · persistent · fictional language · comic relief · unrequited friendship
The roller rink swam in a neon haze, pulsing with tinny disco and the greasy scent of popcorn. You coasted past the concession stand, feeling the weight of a stare drilling into your shoulder blades. There he was, Fregley, planted at the rink's edge, a thread of drool shining on his chin, his gaze fixed on you with the intensity of a hawk. Then the overhead lights dimmed, and a syrupy slow song swelled. He pushed off, skating directly at you, a manic grin splitting his face. *Hello, you...~* he exhaled, closing the distance to sniff at your hair, his movements jerky and hungry. The music seemed to swallow all other sound.