Chapter Four

February 7th,

The worst thing I ever lost was my virginity. No, I’m just playing; I still have that. Seriously, though, it was the opal ring my mom gave me when I turned eleven. It was my grandmother’s, the ring my grandfather gave her when he proposed, and Mom thought I was mature enough to wear it. Turns out she was wrong.

I didn’t even have it a month before I lost it at school one day. It was my first year in Italy, and I had just switched schools the week before. Considering the language barrier between English and Italian and the cultural gap, I was almost desperate for a friend, any friend. So when Ana, one of the most popular girls in my class, oohed and aahed over it, I couldn’t get it off my finger fast enough in my attempt to let her try it on. She had no trouble getting it on her finger, but when she tried to get it off, it was stuck.

We tried everything. She pulled; I pulled. Even the teacher gave it a go. She tried soap and cold water at the bathroom sink, and even that didn’t work. We were sent to the school office.

Signora Di Cicco, the office administrator, called the maintenance guy, who brought, like, tin snips or something. He cut it off, and I almost cried. I was happy to have the ring back, but it was damaged, no longer wearable, and I was sure my mom’s heart was going to be broken over the fact that I’d taken it off in the first place. I tucked it into the little zipper pocket in the front of my backpack and prayed my mom wouldn’t notice it wasn’t on my finger.

She noticed at dinner that night. I tried hard to keep my hand in my lap under the table, but I slipped up and reached for my drink with the wrong one. My mom has eyes like a hawk, and she zeroed in on my bare index finger immediately.

“Where’s Abuela’s ring?” Her tone was accusatory, and I immediately gave up any idea I’d had about hiding the broken ring from her. I told her the whole story, start to finish, and when I was done, even though I expected her to be furious with me, she smiled. It was a sad smile, but it was still a smile.

She told me, “Mija, you never have to hide things from me. I love you. Yes, the ring was special, but you are more special. Besides, we can always have it repaired. Go and get it; let’s take a look.”

But when I went to get it out of my backpack, it was gone. I’m almost positive Ana took it. The pouch was zipped tight, and she was the only other person who knew it was in there. So my grandmother’s ring wasn’t just broken; it was gone. There were tears in my mom’s eyes when I told her, and I know it was because that ring was one of the few things left of my grandmother’s. But my mom stood by her word and didn’t get mad at me. She told me she knew I didn’t lose it on purpose, but still, to this day, I feel like I let her down in a big way. I feel like I’m letting my mom down again now by not acclimating well enough to the new home I begged to move to.

She was waiting at the door for me when I got home from school. For the second day in a row. She looked for all the world as if she were barely restraining herself from asking how my day was. Somehow, she must have sensed the aching loneliness I was feeling when I got home. The only person who’s even spoken to me in two days is Will, my sidewalk Romeo. He’s killer hot, but I’ve been a loner for so long—by necessity, never by desire—that I’m not even sure where to begin.

…

I put down my pen, close my journal, and lean back on my bed, resting my weight against the headboard. That’s enough touchy-feely for now. I didn’t mean to pour my heart out on the page, and I certainly didn’t intend to write about that particular experience, but something about the way I felt when I lost that ring reminds me of the way I feel now.

I mentally replay my first two days of school, of floating through the hallways filled with other students, of sitting in the office waiting for my schedule. I could easily have connected with any one of those other students. If I’d only known how. Besides Will, the closest I’ve come to making a new friend is Jamie, and I didn’t see him again at all after he showed me to my class. My brain hitches on the flyer I saw for drama club tryouts, and I have a lightbulb-over-the-head kind of moment. I’m not into drama, or anything that would put me in the spotlight, really, but surely there’s another club. One where I could meet people, feel normal, and still be inconspicuous.

I set my journal on my bedside table, not bothering to hide it. Maybe I’m hoping my mom will find it and read it. Maybe I just don’t care anymore. I’m suddenly looking forward to school. First thing tomorrow morning, I’m going to find an after-school club to join, and I’m going to make friends. I practically bounce off my bed, invigorated by anticipation, and head downstairs in search of dinner.

…

By the time I’m halfway to school the next day, I’m doubting my plan. What if I find a club and hate it? I could stay just to make friends. Or what if I find a club I like and it’s the one and only thing I have in common with any of the other members? I try to shake the doubt away. I’m probably way overthinking this. It can’t be that hard to make friends; people do it all the time. I’ve met people before, made friends before. Right? At this moment, I can’t call to memory a single time I’ve put myself out there to make a human connection. I mentally recount the friendships I’ve valued over the years, and they all have one thing in common: the other person made the effort, and I let them. Am I so guarded that I’ve never purposely made a single friend?

I’m so lost in my own musings, I don’t give it a thought when someone falls into step beside me. Until I realize he’s keeping perfect pace with me.

“Hey, flower!” The rich timbre of the familiar voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I stop walking and whirl to face Will. His expression is warm, and his look is clean-cut: white-as-snow sneakers, dark jeans, and a blue polo under a bomber jacket. His dark hair is parted slightly to one side and hangs over his forehead in a way that almost makes me want to reach out and brush it back. Almost.

“What’s up?” My voice is louder than I’d intended, and I bite my tongue against the urge to immediately apologize.

The grin on his face is friendly and genuine and doesn’t falter in the slightest at my hard tone. “I saw you here and thought maybe we could walk together. You know, since we’re headed to the same place and all.”

He wants to walk with me to school? My cheeks heat, and I hope he attributes my flushing to the cold.

“Sure.” It’s stupid, but it’s all I’ve got. Besides, what am I going to do, tell him no, he can’t walk with me, and make him stay ten paces behind me for the next hundred or so yards? I resume my trudging pace toward the school, and he falls into step beside me once again.

“It’s a nice day, huh?”

I look up at the sky and chuckle before I realize he’s serious. He’s enjoying the overcast, cold morning far more than I am. I’m all but shivering inside my winter coat, and I’ve had my hands balled up in my sleeves since I left the warmth of my apartment building. I shoot him a sideways glance, like that’s somehow going to help me figure him out, but drop my attention to the pavement when our gazes meet. “Sure, it’s okay.”

“You’re probably used to more sun where you’re from, huh?”

I consider not answering him. I mean, I can’t exactly tell him the truth, can I? I’m more used to moonlight than sunlight because I’m an international jewel thief from a long line of jewel thieves, and that’s more of a nighttime career. Oh, and I’m here hiding out from a European crime boss my mother and I pissed off. He’d either think I was lying or crazy. Or both. And on the off chance he did believe me, the truth would only put him in danger. I settle for the simple truth.

“I didn’t really spend a lot of time outside during the day. But I suppose the weather is only what you make of it. Actually, my favorite is rain.”

“Rain, huh?”

“Sure. Not like a thunderstorm or anything but a soft drizzle, just enough to make some noise when it hits the window.” I sneak a glance at Will to gauge his reaction.

He’s staring thoughtfully up at the sky. “My favorite weather is the very beginnings of snowfall. Before there’s really any powder on the ground but there’re snowflakes in the air that land on your face and hands. And tongue.” He closes by sticking his tongue out in a mock attempt to catch invisible snowflakes, and I laugh.

The air between us is silent for the rest of the walk, but it’s not an awkward silence. There’s something easy about being near Will, like he’s not expecting anything of me and is just content walking quietly together.

When we pass the spot on the retaining wall where I first saw him with his buddies, they’re there waiting for him, and Nicky jumps to his feet to high-five Will. “He-ey, Cam-Bull!” And then to me, “How’s our new friend?” He’s not as put together as Will. In fact, he looks like he rolled out of bed and threw on yesterday’s wrinkled black tee and jeans and topped it with a gray hoodie that, judging from the looks of it, probably smells like dog.

“Hey.” Will greets his friend but doesn’t high-five him. “This is Marisol.”

He does remember my name.

To me, he says, “You met Nicky already—and that’s Anton.” He points first to the hot mess blocking our path, then to a more subdued, and more put together, boy still sitting on the retaining wall. The other boy lifts a hand to wave shyly before returning his attention to his phone.

“Hi,” I say, but don’t know what to add after that. Even if I was good at small talk, I don’t like the way Nicky’s looking at me like I’m just Will’s latest conquest.

“You guys are getting pretty cozy, huh?” Nicky smiles a knowing smile.

Even though the idea of getting cozy with Will sets off a flurry of nervous energy in my gut, my cheeks heat, and I shift so there’s a few extra inches of space between Will and me.

“Don’t mind Nicky,” Will tells me. “He’s been trying to live vicariously through my love life since Wendy McGillis sat next to me and not him during circle time in kindergarten. He means well. He just doesn’t understand boundaries.” Will punctuates his last word with a playful punch to his friend’s shoulder. Nicky grabs his shoulder in an exaggerated gesture and pretends to fall back on the retaining wall, catching himself at the very last moment, and Will laughs.

I take a step toward the building, then another. “Hey, I gotta hit up the office for something. I’ll catch you later.” I throw the words over my shoulder as I reach the front door. Will is right there next to me and opens the heavy metal door.

“Thanks.” I slip through and continue toward the office.

He catches up to me with easy strides, and I feel like a hamster running with tiny legs on a big wheel, trying to shake him and getting nowhere.

“You don’t have to come with me.”

“Okay, see you in class.”

I fight the urge to watch him as he strolls away, busying myself, instead, with my phone. I think about checking my timeline, but I already know there’s going to be nothing new there. I don’t have any close friends to leave me status updates or fun memes. So I text my mother to let her know I’ve made it safely. Her response is almost immediate:

Have a great day! Love you!

I tuck the phone back into my pocket and sneak a self-conscious glance around. Not that anyone’s close enough to see who I’m texting. But I’m still a little self-conscious about messaging my mom to let her know I’m okay after a three-block walk to school.

When I get to the office, I spot Jamie behind his computer and smile. He waves back at me. Then I head straight for the rack with all the flyers, doing my best to blend in, even though there are far fewer students in here now than there were a couple of days ago.

I zero in on the call for drama club auditions almost immediately, but I can’t find a flyer listing any of the after-school clubs.

“Hey, Marisol! Can I help you find something?” Jamie sidles up next to me.

I hesitate and almost don’t answer him right away. Will he think I’m pathetic trying to join a club to make friends? So instead, I stand there staring at the wall of papers. I’m not nearly as self-conscious around Jamie as I am with Will, but it’s still uncomfortable admitting I don’t know how to make friends. Finally, I almost whisper, “I was thinking about joining a club and thought there might be some information about different offerings here.”

“Oh cool! Yeah, we have a lot of clubs.” He scans the racks quickly, then grabs a paper and hands it to me. “I’m in a couple of clubs myself. Student government, and stuff like that. If you need any help picking, let me know.” He smiles brightly, and the last of my nervousness evaporates.

“Thanks!” I scan the half-page list, then fold it and tuck it into the back pocket of my jeans for safekeeping. I’ll look it over when I get home. “I’ve got to get to class.” We exchange awkward goodbyes and I escape into the hall, then head for class.

Will’s sitting low in his desk when I get to Mrs. Leonard’s room. His head is tipped back, and his eyes are closed. Is he taking a nap? At 7:50 in the morning? I take my seat in front of him and pull out my book. No sooner have I settled myself than I hear him suck in a shaky breath.

“Even your hair smells like flowers,” he whispers almost imperceptibly, and his breath is warm on the back of my neck. Goose bumps break out everywhere his words touched.

The late bell rings, and the teacher enters the room. The door closes with a heavy thud behind her a heartbeat later. Great. How am I supposed to concentrate on math with my nerves on fire and every cell in my body hyper-focused on Will?