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Elsie took her basketball outside, the one with her name written in purple marker across it. She made a shot from the edge of the lawn. It didn’t even manage to hit the basket.
“Go away,” Carson told her in the cuttingly impatient way big brothers had. “You’re bugging us.”
Elsie hurried after her ball before it rolled into the street. “Three people can play,” she said. “Lucas and Jace play with you all the time.”
“Yeah,” Carson said, dribbling the ball with such ease it looked like his hands were magnets the ball was drawn to, “but you’re no good. Go play dolls or something.”
Even though Elsie didn’t know who Kye was, she felt the extra sting of being insulted in front of him. She clutched her ball, tears welling in her eyes. Her name, so proudly written on her ball, blurred in her vision until the letters melted together.
“It’s okay.” Kye came toward her. “She can be on my team.” He effortlessly hoisted her up on his shoulders. Ranch work had made him stronger than he looked. “Now we’re taller than Carson,” Kye said, “so it’s almost fair.”
She giggled and beamed and cheerfully missed shot after shot. Kye didn’t seem to mind. He kept saying things like, “Dang—the basket ducked out of the way. That should’ve been a three-pointer.”
He probably had only recruited her on his team so he had a reason to lose. Maybe he didn’t like being reminded of his deficiencies in basketball any more than Carson liked being reminded of his shortcomings in math.
It didn’t matter. After that, Elsie adored Kye, worshipping him with a dedication only an eight-year-old could sustain. Elsie renamed all of her Ken dolls Kye. Her family went to the same church as Kye’s, and while the congregation bowed their heads in prayer, Elsie would peek open her eyes and blow Kye furtive kisses. She looked for him at every one of Carson’s school events and ballgames—Carson played them all: Football, basketball, baseball, and soccer. Kye did eventually get taller and better at not only basketball but football too. She cheered for him louder than she cheered for her brother.
Every time Kye came over during his high school years, she hung around like a stray puppy waiting to be noticed.I am going to marry you, she told him silently. She basked in those unsaid words, felt the power of them lifting her.
Kye never did notice her, though. Not really. Not in the way she wanted to be noticed. He was always nice, but it was the sort of niceness granted to everyone. Once when he came over, she was clearing the snow off their walkway, and instead of walking by her, he took the shovel from her and finished the job like it was nothing.
If she could have kept some of the snow as a reminder, she would have.
He grew even taller and more muscular. His glasses disappeared in favor of contacts. His boyish features sharpened into the crisp handsome lines of a young man.
On the night of his senior prom, Carson, Kye, and several of their friends brought their dates to the house. Elsie sat sulking on the stairs while her mother cooed over everyone, snapping pictures and throwing out compliments like they were confetti. Not once did Kye look in Elsie’s direction or smile at her. She was thirteen and in braces, completely inadequate in the face of the glittering girls who glided around Kye and the others.
Elsie’s mantra of future marriage was drained of its magic that night. The words no longer had the power to lift or warm her. The sentence sat in a mangled heap around her feet, deflated.
That was the last image she had of Kye before he went to college: Him in a tux, achingly handsome, never once turning to glance in her direction.
Now that same man was heading toward her car, and he was close enough she could see the amusement in his eyes—and something else, something she couldn’t quite pinpoint. Annoyance maybe? Or worse, pity?
If her last Kye McBride sighting had ended on prom night, things wouldn’t have turned out so badly. Elsie eventually stopped acting like she wanted to be one of the guys and embraced all things girly—fashion, shoes, and makeup. She grew out her dark brown hair and had a way of running her fingers through it that made guys stop, pause, and take notice.
The only vestige of her crush on Kye was a permanent placement in advanced math. She had devoted herself to math back in elementary school on the off chance Kye would notice her report cards lying around and consider her brilliant. This never happened, but by the time he’d left for college, she was too well entrenched in the gifted math program to let it all go.
If Kye hadn’t come back, Elsie would’ve remembered him as a childhood obsession that flared into and out of existence along with her crushes on actors and musicians. That’s where those crushes belonged—behind the unachievable and anonymous walls Hollywood erected.
On the first day of her senior year, Elsie walked into her honors calc class and saw Kye writingMr. McBrideon the whiteboard in the front of the room.
Her arms went slack and her calc book slid from her hands onto the floor.
Kye turned at the sound. Elsie blushed bright red, hurriedly picked up the book, and slipped into a seat at the side of the room. He smiled at her, but it was just a piece of kindness—a sort of welcoming smile that saidI’m not the sort of teacher who eats students. He showed no recognition, didn’t speak to her at all, until after he’d gone over the class rules, the syllabus, and was taking roll.
“Allie Anderson…Madison Basha…Tyson Boggle…” He marked off each student when they answered back.
Kye paused, and Elsie knew he had come to her name and recognized it. He looked around the room, trying to spot her. His gaze passed right over her without stopping. “Elsie Clark?” he asked.
“Here,” she called back, already uncomfortable at the tone she’d used. It sounded too nervous, too questioning, as though she wasn’t sure herself if she really was here.
Kye’s gaze shot to her, and she knew he still didn’t recognize her. She’d watched him grow up during his four years of high school, but he had never seen her change from the eight-year-old he’d played basketball with.
She breathed softly, carefully waiting for some sort of pronouncement from him.Notice me now, she told him silently.Really see me. I’m every bit as beautiful as the girl you went to prom with.
Kye’s eyebrows dipped together. “Are you Carson Clark’s little sister?”
“Yes.” She fought a blush that threatened to creep back into her cheeks.
