Chapter One: Hello

Fourteen-year-old Connor "Con" McKinley never expected to be going door-to-door to make friends, but that's what ended up happening.

He'd just changed out of his favorite church suit: a white button-down shirt, black tie, black suit. Overall not too different than a normal suit, but when he'd moved to Utah, or, more specifically, Salt Lake City, his mom had made him get four suits, plus other clothes within the Mormon clothing guidelines, but this was his first suit. Because of this, Con (who didn't much care about what he wore) was suddenly one of the most fashionable kids in his class. (Mormons wear fashionable clothing that doesn't reveal anything).

So there Con was, a small, skinny boy in the biggest Mormon state in the world (or so his parents had told him). When his mom told him to go door to door for friends, she'd said it would be good practice for when he was sent on his mission and going door to door every day.

Two houses away from his own, a promising basketball hoop and football were on the ground, neatly piled, on the lawn. Neat, but not too neat, with a couple sporty toys for a kid—but not a young kid, maybe even a kid Con's age.

Con rang the doorbell. After about five seconds of waiting, Con was about to leave, but a boy, maybe fourteen or fifteen answered. He was handsome and well built, wearing a black T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up like a tank top, somewhat like Ponyboy Curtis from The Outsiders. The boy wore jeans, and black sporty flats. All in all, it was a very Ponyboy look, even the boy's hair was like C. Thomas Howell's in the movie (before the haircut scene with Ralph Macchio).

"Hey," the boy said. "What's up?"

"Hello," Con began. "My name is Connor McKinley. And I just moved here, right over to—" Con pointed to his house "—and I was just sort of out looking for friends?"

The boy laughed a bit. "Hey, Connor."

"Con," Con objected.

"Ok, Con," the boy said, grinning again. "I'm Steve, Steve Glade." The boy—Steve—looked Con up and down. Steve opened his mouth to speak—maybe say something about Con's clothes—but seemed to have decided against it.

Con checked his watch. It was a Sunday morning, and church started soon. "I hate to leave so soon," Con began, "but—"

"You're one of the Mormon kids and you need to go to church?" Steve guessed.

Con didn't like being called one of the Mormon kids, but Steve seemed like a nice enough guy.

"Please don't call me that," Con winced.

Steve's eyes widened as he realized his mistake. "Oh, gosh, Con, I'm sorry."

"It's cool," Con nodded coolly. Then, hopefully, he asked, "So I'll see you later, Steve?"

Steve grinned. "Course. I'll just be here."

After church, they got into the family's battered Honda, and Con scrambled to buckle in his seatbelt. His mother turned around and looked at him as his father shifted the car out of park mode and began to drive.

"So, Con, how was your morning? Did you make any new friends?" Con's mother asked hopefully.

"There's a family a couple houses down with a boy Con's age," his father suggested.

"Well, I met a kid called Steve," Con said. "He's pretty nice."

"Is he Mormon?" his father asked.

"Arnold," his mother chided.

"What?" his father said defensively. "I want our son to be around good influences."

"No, he's not Mormon," Con explained. "But he has some friends who are." Con didn't know for sure, but he assumed, with all of the Mormons around in Salt Lake City.

"That's okay, then," his father said. "I'm fine with you being friends with people who aren't Mormon, but I want you to have some friends who believe in Heavenly Father."

"Shall we pray?" his mother suggested.

"We just came back from church," Con complained. At his parents' disapproving looks, he quickly added, "And I'm out of things to pray for."

His parents were satisfied with this, so when Con got out, he raced over to Steve's house. Steve was in the driveway, dribbling a basketball on his knee like Ralph Macchio's character Daniel LaRusso from The Karate Kid. Maybe this guy had a thing for 80s classics. Or Ralph Macchio films (Ralph Macchio was in The Outsiders as well as C. Thomas Howell).

"Hey, Steve," Con greeted him.

"Connie!" Steve smiled.

"Connie? That's a girl's name."

"Right, sorry, Con-Con."

"Not any better," Con groaned. "Just call me Connor or Con."

Steve snickered, but then nodded sincerely. "Okay. Come on inside."

Inside, Con saw two boys playing chess. "I was out there waiting for you," Steve explained. "These two came over earlier." Then, louder, he said, "Guys, this is Con McKinley. Con, that's Luke and Matt."

Matt waved, something very friendly about his expression. "Hello, Con McKinley!"

"Do you go to church?" Con asked shyly. "I think I saw you today—"

"Church of the Latter Day Saints?" Matt clarified. "No, but my cousin Paul does. He hangs out with us sometimes."

Steve grinned, then pulled Connor aside. "Hey, Con, you doing okay? You looked a bit uncomfortable."

"Oh, no, I just am a bit shy around new people," Con admitted.

"You aren't shy with me," Steve pointed out.

Con couldn't help but smile. "I guess."

Steve ran a hand through his hair. Con watched carefully, every little detail. There was no denying Steve was incredibly attractive, and if Con was gay he thought for sure he'd be into Steve. Something about all the eighties classics just screamed cool to Con.

Steve's hair was greased, but not heavily, just lightly to accent his features. His hair wasn't black, but chocolate or mocha or coffee brown, whatever word you chose to describe it with. He was wearing Vans, and there were at least four soccer balls in his living room.

They stepped inside Steve's room. A The Outsiders poster was on the wall, as well as two editions of The Karate Kid, and The Karate Kid Part II and That Was Then, This Is Now, and Rumble Fish, and Tex.

"You like 80s films?" Con asked. It was mostly a rhetorical question, but Steve answered it nonetheless.

"Yeah," Steve answered. A dark brown desk was parked in a corner of the room, a small Dell lap top sat upon it, as well as a Nintendo 3DS to the side.

"Nice room," Con smiled.

"Thanks," Steve said earnestly. Then, slightly less confidently, "There's a party at a friend's house tonight. Wanna come?"