Free How to Break a Heart by Kiera Stewart Page A

was last night. It’s like without Sirina, I have no Mariela powers at all.

    Amelia’s my lab partner in second-period Biology. Despite my saggy, soggy, heavy heart, today’s The Big Day. Today is The Day We Dissect a Worm. I’ve prepared for this day. I’ve said good-bye to my last enjoyable gummy worm. I’ve come to terms with the idea that I will cut into the flesh of a real being. I’ve even thought about whether I should have whooping cough today or not, and have decided that I should not. For today is a rite of passage.
    Also, turns out I was vaccinated against whooping cough.
    Other people are naming their worm things like Pepe or Brutus, or even Bait, but Amelia decides we should name our worm either Pat or Terry, because it’s both a boy
and
a girl. I don’t like either choice. “How about something like Kai or Drew?”
    She makes a face and considers my suggestions, then declares our worm Dylan. “So, do you want to watch or cut?” she asks me.
    Cristina would watch. But
Mariela—
now,
she
would cut.
    So I say, “Cut.” I put on my gloves and stand over the worm.
    “Now,” our teacher, Ms. Frederick, says, “as you begin your dissection, think precision. Steady hands. Remember, class, you are not cutting into a Hot Pocket. You are performing surgery on a delicate and lovely creature.”
    I hold my hand out. “Scalpel,” I say to Amelia. She looks at me strangely, but hands over the knife, and I slice carefully into Dylan. This is no butter knife. And I see it for myself. Five tiny little hearts.
    “Look!” I say to Amelia. “Isn’t this amazing?”
    Amelia leans over to look closely, then recoils.
“Ew!”
she says. “Gross! What is that?”
    “Dylan’s hearts,” I say. “They’re fascinating.”
    “Honestly, Mabry, you’re the only person I know who would think worm guts are ‘fascinating.’”
    Kipper, sitting across the lab table, glances at me shyly. “My worm has some dirt in its crop.” Then he smiles. “Her name is Glenda.”
    “It’s not a
she
,” Amelia corrects him.
    “Kipper’s just getting all excited about the girl parts!” Brian Stead, his lab-partner-slash-bully, says, whooping with laughter. The other guys around us laugh and bump fists, until Ms. Frederick tells them, in teacher language, to shut up.
    Kipper looks up at me and smiles with quiet dignity. I smile back. Sirina was right. He did deserve some positive press.
    In the stretch of hallway visible over Kipper’s shoulder, I see
Nicolás
. He walks slowly, and his face is blotchy and almost as red as his sweatshirt, like he’s been crying. The teasing must still be going on. It’s like someone’s picked a little scab off my heart and it’s bleeding again.
    I force my attention back to the gentle Dylan and his various and magnificent parts.
    It’s a bit ironic. You always think of love conquering all. But I’m starting to wonder if that’s true. I mean, just look around the room of one-hearted, mean-spirited creatures like Brian, cutting open the bodies of
five-
hearted,
gentle
-spirited creatures like Glenda and Dylan.
    Forget doves. Why isn’t the worm the universal symbol for love?

    I make a quick stop to change at my locker between fourth and fifth periods. As I’m changing out of the heels and into flats, a boy voice says, “Heard you’re doing an article about the crime scene.”
    I spin around. It’s Abe. Patrick stands just behind him.
    Abe continues. “Dude, you should talk to us. It was
manic
.”
    “What happened?” I ask. I know Sirina wouldn’t approve of me talking with the rumor mill, but what else do we have at this point?
    “Okay,” Abe says. His head bobbles and his eyes are wide. “So we were downstairs, just, you know, practicing fight moves—”
    “Yeah,” Patrick says, crouching suddenly. “
Hi-yah!”
He completes a series of stiff hand movements that seem to go on way too long.
    “So you two were doing karate when this happened?”
    Abe says, “Yeah,