Chapter One

Him

I was young when we met. I was about to turn nine, I believe. It was fourth grade. I remember that much. Boy, was he cute. He had this beautiful black hair and eyes like the sea on a summer day. Meeting him for the first time, I was so distracted by his eyes that my friend who introduced us had to nudge me to get my attention back. They were so startling blue and contrasted with his hair so much that the effect was dazzling, and boy was he cute. Did I already say that? Guess I did.

Anyway, we became friends after that. We hung out at lunch all time. I didn't tell my parents about him, because he felt like my personal little secret. He was my secret.

But, because I came from a military family, we moved that year after I finished out my fourth grade. To say I was heartbroken, is putting it lightly. I was absolutely devastated. I remember the day we left with startling clarity. We got up at an obscene hour, I didn't know when though, since we were in a hotel and I had no bedside clock. We piled into the car, and because our suitcases were already in, we began to drive. We went to the front of the hotel, where my mom got out and checked us out of the hotel. I was all the way in the back of the minivan, which was good for me, because I could hide my tears. When mom came back, she looked at all of us, and my brothers were sound asleep, and since it was too dark to see me, my tears went unnoticed.

We arrived in Connecticut, where we were visiting family before heading up to our new station in Montana, a place that seemed a world away from Texas, where he had been. I had hated Texas with a passion, but him being there made everything worthwhile.

Two weeks passed. We'd gone to my favorite place on earth: Cape Cod. The sun, sand, and sea. I felt like I was finally home. I felt… complete. Finally whole. Whenever I was gone, I was missing a piece of myself, and I didn't belong wherever we were. That has been true for my entire life. I've never really belonged anywhere. I've never really fit in. My life has been a constant state of change; I've never really had any kind of stability or s sense of belonging. But here… I could lose myself and I wouldn't care. That would just be ok.

We went on a whale watch this previous summer, and I can't remember ever being happier. Without him, anyway. Dolphins swam underneath us, not five feet away, and whales splashed us from where we watched, feet away. My parents don't believe in magic, but if you ask me, that was magic in its purest form. We then went to lunch at one of my favorite little restaurants: a little café that served crepes and sandwiches. I got a strawberry and chocolate crepe, a Caesar salad, and a raspberry Italian soda. It was delicious.

I'm getting off track; as I was saying, two weeks had passed and I already was tired of Montana, even though I'd never been. We left Connecticut, promising my family we'd be back next year. I waved to my aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins etc… and once again, I left behind everything I knew for a new venture into the unknown.

We arrived in Montana, and to my surprise it was warm, not melt-the-paint-off-your-car hot like it had been the past four years in Texas. Also, it was beautiful. Mountains surrounded us on every side, and a thin cloud barrier covered them. The air smelled like trees and water, and the breeze felt good. In Texas, the breeze eased the burning of the sun for about two seconds, before it resumed its relentless scorching. I remembered the smell of exhausted and cooked pavement, the cactuses, the dead grass and sticker burrs and pricked my skin and made me bleed. I remembered the inherent fear of walking barefoot in the grass. I mean, who knew what was lurking there? Fire ants, scorpions, tarantulas, scorched earth, sharp dead grass…

It took a few months for us to get into a house. There was a limited number of houses on base, and we had to wait our turn for a house to become available. While we were living in the temporary housing on base, I quickly made friends, trying to get him off my mind. None of the friendships I made there lasted for any amount of time; once we left the temporary housing, I never spoke to them again. That was ok, though. I lucked out big time when we moved into our house. There was a girl in the house next to us who was my age, in my grade, went to the same school, and as luck would have it, we were even in the same class. We quickly became best friends. She introduced me to her friends as well, and I was happy, for the first time in months. I decided that I needed to forget about him. I would never see him again, and I just had to live with it.

Winter came around, and it was like a completely different planet. The snow fell in heaps, covering everything and turning the roads to slick ice. I had my share of falls, and I gained a few ice scars along the way. I hadn't even known it was possible to get scars from ice, but apparently it was. I had brand new winter clothes that year, and for what felt like the first time in forever, I could play in the snow.

Now granted, I hadn't lived in Texas forever. But I was young, and I couldn't really remember anything before it. I had lived in Connecticut for the first six years of my life. I had actually started school a year early, and was in kindergarten when I was four, first when I was five, second when I was six, and so on. Most people start when they're five, but some start when they're six, so I was always the youngest in my grade. He had been a few months older than me. His birthday was in July. July 14th, to be exact.

Fifth grade ended, and it had been one of the best years of my life. I made so many friends, and was friends with practically every person in my class. There weren't many times when I was sad, but when I was, it was when I was thinking about him. Summer was a great time for me as well. We went home for a couple weeks, and on Cape Cod, I once again felt whole. Cape Cod is in Massachusetts, so even though my family was in Connecticut, that wasn't home to me. They say home is where the heart is, and to me, it had always been Cape Cod. My grandparents had a house there that looked out at a lighthouse and several houses lined up along a narrow stretch of beach. Nothing about that house ever seemed to change, and I always knew exactly what to expect when we went there. We only ever spent a few days there whenever we visited, so it was technically only about 3-4 days a year that I actually felt like I belonged somewhere. It was just a taste, and I so badly wanted to stay. When we left, as we always did, I did my best to keep my heart closed, because I knew that if I didn't, I would just start crying like a baby. No one wanted see that.

Then sixth grade began, and one day out on the playground (sixth grade was still elementary where we were, and in some places it's not, which is just weird to me), I saw something which completely threw me for a loop. There was an elementary school across from the street from mine, outside the fence, off base. I looked over and saw a boy. He had the darkest black hair I'd ever seen, in a style I knew. It couldn't be though. He looked so much like him, but he couldn't be him. After all, he was in Texas. I was in Montana. There was no way he could be here, so close and yet so far. He went inside after that, and I felt my heart fall to my feet. I wanted to see him. The boy across the street quickly became my addiction. I'd steal glimpses when we were in class, since we had windows facing the other school. I would glimpse that way when we were at recess, watching him play with his friends. I wanted to hear his voice, look in his eyes, or see his face, anything.

Finally, the day came when I saw him up close. I was out around the base, and I went to the store. I saw him there. THE boy. The one I always saw across the street. I started to walk towards him, and suddenly he turned around. He was by himself for some reason, but at that moment, it was perfect. Because it really was him. He was here.

"It's you." I said, and a grin spread across my face. "Hi." I said, giddy.

A huge smile broke out across his face, and he run towards me. I melted into his arms as he hugged me, and then I had the strangest sensation sink over me: the strange feeling of being home. I didn't understand it, and I didn't know how to feel about it, but at that moment, I didn't care, because here he was. He was here. I could touch him, see him, and be with him. The world suddenly corrected, like it had been crooked, but I hadn't noticed it before. He was here. I couldn't believe it.

When we finally broke apart, he looked into my eyes and said "I missed your gold eyes."

And I replied with "I missed your ocean eyes."

And we spent the day together. I learned that he had ridden his bike here, and so had I. We rode around a little, and I showed him where my house was. I didn't want him to go in, though. After all, he was my secret. I didn't tell anyone about him, because for some reason, I felt like that would make him belong to me only.

One day, when he had school off and I didn't, his mom came by with him and his younger sister, looking to get her transferred to our school. I wished she would transfer him too, but I didn't want to pull him away from his friends either. That day, he came out to the playground where we were. I had wandered off from my friend group, and was sitting on the soccer field against the goal when I saw him walking this way. I almost couldn't believe it. But then he came and sat next to me, and asked me to be his girlfriend. At the time, I didn't really know what that meant, but I agreed in a heartbeat anyway.

"Ok. I will." I said, blushing as red as a tomato.

He smiled. "Good. Because I don't want to share you with anyone else." He said.

I couldn't help smiling back, despite my blush. "You're a dork, Lucas."

"I know, Lilly." He said, and I laid my head against his shoulder, and that was where everything began.