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Prologue
Thor
1976
Bleak High School
I was not prepared for her. As a sophomore, I thought I knew everyone in town. Everyone knows everyone. But I was wrong. She breezed in the front doors with the wind at her back. I had to know her. As I get closer to her, there’s something familiar about her. Very familiar, but I can’t place her.
“Hey, Foxy mama. Where have you been all my life?”
“Are you talking to me?” she asks shyly.
“Of course. Who else would I be talking to?”
“Oh, in that case. I’ve been right here in Bleak. I live two houses down from you, Thor.” Thor? No one calls me Thor. I’ve been Tom for as long as I can remember, given that it’s my dad’s name too. Then I start thinking about the fact that she lives two houses down from me.
“Stacey Hansen?” I ask incredulously. She’s my best friend Kyle’s little sister.
“Yep, in the flesh,” she says, giggling.
“Shouldn’t you be over at the junior high?” I ask, jokingly, though I do remember that she’s younger than I am. My sixteen to her fifteen almost sixteen. Kyle is seventeen and while he’s my best friend, he is dumber than a box of rocks. Though, I think he does stupid shit on purpose. I haven’t seen her all summer. She was away at camp. Gone is the baby fat, and in its place are so many curves. She’s a stone fox, and I don’t like the idea of other guys talking to her. Hell, I don’t even want them looking at her. I don’t understand where this jealous possessiveness is coming from. It has to be her.
“Not at all. I’m a freshman,” she says, sounding pleased with herself.
“You look amazing. I mean that’s amazing,” I find myself saying.
“Thanks, Thor.” I never much liked Thor as a name, but hearing her say it makes it so much better.
“Come to the movies with me tonight.”
“You want to go to the movies with me?” she asks, pointing to herself.
“I want more than that, Stace, but the movies are a good start.”
“What movie?” she asks, and I know she’s mine.
“Monty Python and The Holy Grail is playing in St Paul,” I say. It’s the first movie that came to mind.
“Fine. Pick me up at seven, stud.”
“Let me walk you to class,” I say, taking her backpack from her. I don’t want her out of my sight.
“Sure. I’ve got Ms. Haverfield’s English class up first.”
“Me too.”
It turns out we have all of our classes together this semester. I was in love by the end of the first period. It’s crazy how some people wait a lifetime for love and find I find it at fifteen. For the rest of my life, Stacey Hansen will be it for me. My best friend’s little sister. I would never have thought that, but now it makes so much sense. She’s been one little step behind me since kindergarten, but now we’re equals.
That night, I prepare to knock on the Hansen’s front door, but it opens before I can do so.
“Hey man,” Kyle says, punching my shoulder. “Did we have plans? I gotta break them if we do. I’m taking Jessica Grant parking,” he says, looking pleased with himself.
“Ah. No. I’m taking Stacey out.”
“You’re taking my sister out?” he asks, sounding pissed.
“Yeah. You got a problem with that?” I ask.
“Yeah. I do,” he says, shoving me.
“I’ll take care of her. I promise.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
“Kyle, stop it,” Stacey says, coming outside.
“Go back inside, Stacey. You aren’t going anywhere with him.”
“Mom and Dad already said I could. Just calm down.”
“Fine, but I don’t have to like it.”
“It’s not up to you, dipshit,” I tell him.
“Whatever. Don’t let anything happen to her, and we’ll be square.”
“I would never let anything happen to her. You have my word.”
“You better not,” he says, stalking off to his car. It’s loud when it starts up, and he peels down the street.
“What was that about?” Stacey asks.
“Guy stuff,” I say, turning back to her. She’s gorgeous, wearing some kind of jumpsuit with a crocheted pattern on the top. The green of it brings out her red hair and green eyes. Her hair is styled in the newly popular Farrah-do.
“You’re not saying anything,” she says, smoothing the fabric on her thighs.
“I, uh,” I begin, then clear my throat. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks. Are you ready?”
“Yes, of course. I borrowed my dad’s car.” We walk down the street to where my dad’s Mustang is parked. I open the passenger door and help her into the seat. After the movie, I take her home. We sit in her driveway for a long time, talking about her summer.
“It was a co-ed camp, but I didn’t like any of the boys that were there,” she says.
“Why not?”
“None of them were you,” she whispers before reaching out and taking my hand from my lap. My heart clenches at her words. Before today I had never looked at her as anything more than my best friend’s little sister. For the first time, I wonder why?
