Smack.
The class stared. Miss Hana stared.
Tommy, turning Elmo-red, his hand on the cheek Claire had kissed (and then licked, just to get her point across), looked at her like she’d sprouted a second head, covered in green slime. His eyes were shiny; he looked like he might puke.
Cooties were a big problem this time of year.
Well, that’s what he got for pushing her face into the sandbox.
Later, in the principal’s office, a smiling Tommy and his mom passed her.
Claire licked her hand, wiggled spit-slick fingers at him, and watched him run out the door.