Page 1

Prologue

Kitty

Guy Stelle was new in town, and it was June. He and his mom moved into the one duplex on our street, occupying the second and third floors of an old house. I watched as mysterious items were unloaded from their U-Haul. Were those hockey sticks? My brother came up beside me to see what I was looking at.

“Ooh, is that a new boy for Bitty Kitty to have a crush on?” he teased.

“Shut up, Frankie,” I hissed, slapping him on the arm.

I was turning fourteen that summer, and sixteen-year-old boys were very much of interest to me. Not as much interest as say, One Direction, but sixteen-year-old boys were slightly more tangible than Liam and Niall. The problem with sixteen-year-old boys, though, was that they were Frank’s age, and thus, he would give me endless grief for having such interests.

“Quit gawking at ‘em and go take ‘em this chicken and tea,” our mom, Heather, called from the kitchen. “Their U-Haul tags are Canadian. They’ve probably come a long way. Could use some supper.”

“Supper,” Frank and I mouthed at each other. We made a constant hobby of mocking our mother’s country way of talking.

“I heard that,” Mom jabbed. “Get out there. Have some manners.”

“Yes, ma’am,” we whined, sliding on our flip-flops before we headed out the door. Frank grabbed his basketball, presumably to shoot hoops before he committed to befriending the newcomer. He shoved the jug of sweet tea at me, which I rejected because I was already carrying the chicken.

“Don’t make me carry this over there by myself,” I protested. “They’re from Canada. What if they don’t speak English?”

“Canada speaks English, dummy,” Frank said.

“Not in French Canada,” I argued. Frank dribbled the basketball with his open hand, and I slapped it away from him, kicking it into our yard. He’d never admit it, but I was kinda better at basketball.

“Hi!” I waved my arm over my head to the mom.

“Bonjour,” Frank muttered.

“Shut up,” I mumbled under my breath.

The mom rested the basket she was carrying on the porch, turning to us with a smile. She yelled something into the house that sure didn’t sound like English.

“Told you,” I whispered to Frank.

She was petite, with an elegant bone structure, shoulder-length black hair pulled back in a low bun, and a charming gap between her front teeth. One look at her and I already knew I wanted to be her when I grew up. She exuded ease and friendliness.

“We brought you something!” I said, gesturing to what Frank carried.

“Oh, that’s so kind. You don’t have to bother with us,” the mom said.

“No bother,” Frank said, his voice strangely sweet. I knew that tone. He totally had a crush on her. I silently saved that information as ammo for pestering him later.

“I’m Eva,” she said. “My son will be out here in a minute.”

Frank and I introduced ourselves. Eva smiled, but something more complex hid in her eyes.

Then, her son emerged from the house, flopping his feet with a morose expression. His wavy brown-almost-black hair was a shade lighter than his mom’s, long for a boy but not able to make it into a bun or ponytail. It poured over his forehead, and he flipped it to the side something like Justin Bieber. His eyes were a brooding deep brown that made me think of coffee grounds. His nose looked like it had seen some combat, but in an endearing way. Being a boy past puberty, he had some dark peach fuzz at his jaw. I knew Frank, who was still baby-faced, would be jealous. He was long and lean. I fought a swoon and hoped that my sweat could be attributed to the sweltering summer day.

How was I so lucky that I was the first girl he was meeting in Charleston? Dibs would have to be called as soon as I talked to my friends.

“Introduce yourself,” Eva said, prodding him. “This is Kitty and Frank.”

“I’m Guy,” he said, with a thick accent. It sounded more like “ghee.”

“How do you spell that?” Frank asked, scrunching up his nose.

“G-U-Y.”

“Cool if I call you Guy?” Frank asked, pronouncing it “gai.”

Guy shrugged, non-commital. I, however, committed mentally at that moment that I’d always call him by his proper name. I wasn’t an uncultured rube like my brother.

“Frank and Kitty brought us some food. Isn’t that nice?” Eva offered.

Guy gave a grimace of a smile for his mother’s benefit. He was clearly miserable. But I could swear that when his eyes finally met mine, they softened just the slightest bit.

I was in trouble. Big trouble. This was going to be the crush to end all crushes.

P a rt 1 : The Crush