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PROLOGUE
Ten Years Old
The last thing I want is for my whole grade to take a field trip to my family farm. It’s not so much that I’m embarrassed, because I’m not. But it’s like mixing oil and water—two completely separate parts of my life being forced together.
The school bus rocks over a bump in the road, knocking me back to the reality surrounding me. Forty-seven fifth graders sitting two to a seat are chattering at the top of their lungs, and most of them don’t even realize that my family owns the farm we’re visiting for our fall field trip. I’m making a big deal out of this for no reason. I know this, but my body has trouble catching up. My hands twist and fidget in my lap, even as I stare at them, willing them to stop.
A hand reaches over and covers mine, and the feel of my friend Jack’s skin on mine immediately soothes me, stopping my movements.
“Don’t be nervous.” His voice is low.
I keep looking down, but his gaze is locked in on me. I’ve always been able to tell when Jack is watching me.
“I can’t help it,” I whisper. “I know I shouldn’t be nervous. I just am.”
Jack and I have been riding the bus together since kindergarten. His stop is the last one before mine, and we’ve always been the first to get on in the morning and the last to get off in the afternoon.First and last, we often chant. Being stuck on the giant twinkie for two hours each day is a bond like no other. We end up talking about the most random things, which is why Jack is super aware of my fidgeting problem.
“Let’s sing the month song,” he suggests.
My head jerks toward him. “Jack, I’m not singing on this bus.”
“It’ll be fine. We don’t have to actually sing it,” he reassures me, his eyes focused on mine. “Just mouth the months with me.”
I nod slowly, following his lead as his lips part and he says, “January, February…”
I join in and we sing the song we learned in kindergarten to help us remember the names of the months. By June, my chest stops hurting, and by August, my breaths come easier. October is when I feel normal again, and my body releases all the tightness in my arms and legs as we finish off December, smiling at each other.
“Thank you.” I lean my head back against the seat, closing my eyes for the rest of the ride.
The seat squeaks as Jack relaxes against it, his hand still squeezing mine, and we sit like that until the bus squeaks to a stop at Sorrell Farms.
Thirteen Years Old
Middle school has been a crazy experience. I’ve always been good at football, and that’s not me being smug—it’s just a fact. Last year, I was the first sixth grader to make the varsity team, and in seventh grade, I’m one of the co-captains. That’s a big deal because eighth graders are usually in positions of leadership. The season only has a month left, but Coach pulled me aside and told me today he’s got me in mind for captain next year.
I’m hurrying to get on the bus to share the news with Rachel. I haven’t been riding most afternoons because of practice and meetings, but Coach Hargreeves gave us the afternoon off since it’s Halloween. I still ride most mornings, and Rachel always saves my seat, grinning at me from the fourth seat on the right.
“Anderson!” the bus driver, Donnie, exclaims as I climb aboard. “No practice today?”
“Coach gave us a break for Halloween.” I pull my straps up on my backpack as I take the last step, looking over the seats for Rachel’s smiling face.
And she’s smiling, but at someone else.
Another guy.
And he’s in my seat.
My feet are frozen to the floor. Kids start piling up behind me, but I don’t even care because there’s another guy in my seat making Rachel laugh, and it just doesn’t make sense.
Her head’s thrown back—whatever this dude said must have been hilarious—and as she turns her head, I notice the piercings all the way up her ear. The first morning I noticed them, it shocked me. A reminder of how we’ve grown apart recently.
“Move it, Anderson.” Someone pushes against my backpack, and I throw an elbow back.
“Give me a second.”
Rachel’s head jerks toward me, her eyes locking in on mine, and the smile that spreads across her face sends a rush through me that I can’t explain. Excitement, sure, but there’s also a queasiness, like when a roller coaster drops unexpectedly.
“Move on back, guys,” Donnie calls over the chattering of the backed-up line, and I take the empty seat behind Rachel and her new friend. I don’t remember his name, but he looks familiar.
