At her high there were two types of boys.

The sweet, naïve, boys like Clifford, who always wanted to help someone and was always the underdog.

Then there were the popular, but mean boys. The ones who made fun of her hair, her body, her braces. The boys she always wished would notice her, but never did.

Then there was Ricky Lieberman, who fit into no category she knew of.

He was strong and tough, but not cruel. He was sad and lost, but not pathetic. He wasn't the underdog, but he wasn't the hero either.

So what was he?

She was afraid she might never get the chance to find out. It had taken so long for Clifford to break through the walls that surrounded Ricky. Finally, slowly, it seemed that he was opening up to him, to all of them.

But now, he had retreated back into his lonely mind…and if he stayed there then she would never figure him out.

He'll be back.

She had told Clifford that with such conviction, because she didn't want to think of the other possibility.

She said it because she liked being part of his world and she like him being part of hers. She didn't want him to go so far away that no one could reach him again.

When Clifford spotted him up again, pushing his bike along, she thought that maybe he wasn't completely lost to them, to her.

And as they all walked away from the wreckage of the fight later, him pushing his bike alongside her, she decided that, despite his many mysteries, and all the categories he didn't fit into, hero was one label that definitely applied.