"Dude, please! We're going to be late." I struggle to put on my jeans while shaking Martin awake.

It's 7:05 in the morning, and the alarm on his phone has already gone off twice. Martin grumbles something I can't quite comprehend and turns his back on me. That's when I lose my shit. I grab hold of his covers and yank them off of him.

He jumps. "Really, John? Geez...that was cold," he says, pun intended I'm sure.

"School starts today," I say flatly, "in case you've forgotten."

"It's not like it will disappear if I stay in bed ten more minutes," he groans, but he sits up in bed anyway and runs his fingers through his tousled brown hair.

I cross my arms over my chest. "I just don't want to be late, that's all."

"Yeah, yeah. I hear ya."

I throw him his clothes and I want to explode because he gets dressed as fast as an armless sloth. Aunt Sugar knocks on the door twice and, without entering our room, informs us that breakfast is ready. I walk out into the hallway, still buttoning my white shirt, thinking I would never wear something like this if it wasn't part of the school's uniform. My red tie dangles from my jean's pocket. No way I'm wearing it a minute more than is strictly necessary.

I make a quick detour to the bathroom before heading to the kitchen. When I arrive, Aunt Sugar is busy setting up the table, and Alex the British Punk is having a cup of Very British Tea with toasts. I bump fists with him before taking a seat, and my Aunt sets a steamy cup of milky coffee in front of me, kissing the top of my head as she does so.

"Ready for your first day, sugar?"

"More than Martin is, at least," I grumble.

Aunt Sugar chuckles a little. "Martin isn't a morning person."

"I can tell."

Aunt Sugar smiles, and reties her apron at the back.

Since Mom and Dad help Uncle Owen with his restaurant, Aunt Sugar has a lot of free time, so she now spends time at home preparing dinner and breakfast. Yeah, I know; I should be able to butter my own toasts, but Aunt Sugar is so used to cooking pretty much everything at Aloha-Aloha, I have stopped trying to do those kind of chores. Bottom line? She misses her restaurant, but even so, my cousins and I are glad to have her here. Especially me. It's Mom's first job, and the restaurant is open sixteen hours a day, so it gets a little lonely being here all day without an adult around.

I'm almost done with my breakfast when a bleary-eyed Martin shuffles in. He yawns and takes the seat next to me. Aunt Sugar places a glass of milk in front of him. Cold, no sugar, no nothing. No toasts either. Martin doesn't eat a damn thing when he wakes up. Add that to the ever-growing list of things we will never have in common.

"Don't forget we have to pick your girlfriend up before school," I tell him, and his interest perks up a bit, replacing his frown. This is the only thing in the world that actually interests my cousin: Girls. About this girl? Martin met her last Friday at the beach, and started dating her the next day. This has been my cousin's past month in a nutshell.

"Ah, fuck!" he says, his frown returning. "Amanda. I almost forgot about her." He gulps down his glass of milk in one go.

"Wait," I say. "Wasn't her name Delilah?"

"Was it? I have no clue."

"Well done, little brother," Alex says, shaking his head.

"Dude, seriously?" After messing around with her for three days, he can't even remember her name. This is also Martin in a nutshell.

"I gotta break up with her anyway," Martin admits, like this is something normal people do on any given day. No big deal.

Alex chuckles lightly at this and sets his cup in the sink. "Yep. Avoid commitment like the plague."

"You got that right, big brother."

"You're a demon, Martin," Aunt Sugar scolds, pouring him some more milk. "I can't believe I raised such a cold and heartless young man."

"I can't believe it either, sweet Mother," he says, shrugging. "I wonder where you went wrong."

We all laugh at him, because no matter how infuriating Martin can be, he can play the clown like no other.

Fifteen minutes later, we're out of the house and walking to school.

"So," I say. "Why are you going to break up with Amanda-slash-Delilah?"

Martin frowns at me as if I'm a few bricks short of a load (like he hasn't been doing that ever since I got here). Therefore, I raise an eyebrow at him so he knows I'm asking a valid question and I'm expecting an equally valid answer.

He shakes his head. "Uh, hello? Classes start today?"

"Yeah, and?"

"And, duuuuuh! I have to be single for all the beautiful ladies I'll meet this year. It's dating 101, dude. Honestly, sometimes you ask some stupid shit, cousin."

If you were expecting a deeper, more insightful reply from this kid, well, I'm sorry to disappoint you. Instead, Martin just smiles, squinting into the sudden burst of sunshine as it comes up over the trees. We must look pretty much like Alex does after he's smoked a couple joints.

Here's the thing, though: Martin is as shallow as one can get. But the mystery? Girls really drown for him. I guess you could attribute this to his looks, with those bright emerald eyes and that irritatingly perfect smile. But on top of that, this kid is confident, charismatic, and doesn't seem to have the slightest hint of shame when he decides to approach a girl. Just as he has no problem breaking up with them as soon as he finds someone he considers better-looking... as it turns out... like Delilah.

As I said, this is how Martin operates, his sick routine. Go to the beach, find a girl he likes, and conquer her. Toy around with said girl until a new one shows up. Break up with the old one. Rinse and repeat. His only redeeming point is that he never cheats on any of them.

When we're almost at the high school, I come to the realization that we never picked Delilah up. I point this out to Martin.

"Hey," he says, anger in his voice. "Would you stop being my fucking mother, bitch?"

Oh, yeah. Did I mention Martin is the poster boy for the International Cussing Society? But don't let his foul mouth deceive you; he's not really angry. It's all for show.

"There's a strategy, dude," Martin explains. "The girls need a reason to be mad at me so I can dump them on sight with no explanations, broken hearts, or hard feelings. You get it?"

A resounding no; I don't get this guy one bit.

"So, that's why we never picked her up," Martin explains. "It works like a charm."

I take a mental note to make new friends at school.

Speaking of school, we're finally here: Camden Jordan High School. Or just CJ High. The whole place is bustling with kids of all ages going in a million different directions. Martin and I are starting eighth grade, so we're among the youngest. But, as I soon discover, it doesn't mean Martin isn't well known. I try to stray behind as he walks through the main hall. Lots of students constantly greet him; it's like walking with a movie star or something. Some older guy—a tenth grader at least; he's wearing the mandatory burgundy tie—approaches Martin and slaps him on the back.

"What's up, dude? Are you joining the soccer team this year, too?"

"We'll see, Kev."

"You could probably make it into the first team this year."

"Yeah, that would be great," Martin replies, but he walks straight past this Kev and the rest of the crowd, like he has more important things to do.

We've been assigned classroom nine, and as Martin promptly explains, that's upstairs. I follow him to the end of the hall and up a wide staircase packed full of people. At the end of the stairs, a long aisle stretches in front of us and we discover our classroom is the last door on the left. We find some empty seats in the middle of the room, and sit next to each other. That's when Martin's phone buzzes.

"And this is how it starts," he says, showing me a message from Delilah, except it's not Delilah; It's Dalilah. And she's definitely not happy with Martin. "If this is how she wants to play it, so be it," he says, tapping on his phone, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

I shake my head without a word as a cute girl with the longest black hair I've ever seen silently enters the room. I try not to watch her, but I notice she sits down at a desk a few rows to my left.

My attention turns back to Martin. "So, what? You're breaking up with her? Just like that?"

"Hey! I'm not the angry one," he replies, like he didn't give her a good reason to be angry. She's probably still waiting for him and is now going to be late for her first day.

A beautiful girl walks past Martin, purposefully nudging his shoulder with her backpack. He looks up at her and his wide, dimpled smile gets even bigger. "Johanna! How are you, honey?"

"Jerk," she replies coldly. Her eyes are hard, but then she notices me and her face takes on a curious look. If I were a socially functional person, I'd probably wave a hand, except... I'm not. So, as usual, I sit there doing and saying nothing.

Martin notices, though, and introduces me to this angry girl. "This is my cousin John."

"Your cousin, huh?" The girl says as she chooses a seat two rows behind us. "Looks like a nice kid, but looks can be deceiving, can't they, Martin?" Her eyes turn cold again, but out of my peripheral vision, I see Martin wink, and then I see how Johanna tries not to smile.

"Come on, Jo. Are you going to be angry at me forever?" Martin pleads. He's totally doing the puppy-dog-eyes thing.

"Well, would you blame me?"

"What if I said I missed you?"

"Uh-huh. Sure, you did." She rolls her eyes. It's a good one: a 9.5 in the eye-rollympics.

"I did!" Martin says. He pushes his chair back and walks back to her desk. Then he tries to sit within her chair, successfully getting her to make room for him so they're sitting face to face.

"Here it comes!" Someone says, catching sight of Johanna and Martin, and the rest of the kids cheer and root. Some of them, (mostly girls), cheer for Johanna. But I turn around in my chair and stare at the whiteboard. I have no interest in this, even when the crowd goes wild, whistling and all. I refuse to look back. I won't give my cousin the satisfaction. But I bet he probably kissed her.

When I get sick of staring at the whiteboard, I notice the long-haired girl isn't interested in the drama behind us, either. She suddenly turns her head my way and I look away to avoid eye contact. A minute later, a woman who looks to be in her twenties walks into the classroom. Everyone shuffles to their own seats (even Martin), and it's official: classes have begun.