Seven years old

I pumped the brakes on my bicycle, bringing it to a fast stop. With my feet on the ground, I reached up, pulled the Tootsie Pop from my mouth, and tossed it aside before speaking. “Hey.” The boy who’d been sitting on the curb lifted his head at the sound of my voice. “Whatcha doin’ sitting out here?”

He looked up at me, and I noticed his eyes were a funny shade of blue I’d never seen before. From where I stood, they looked almost gray. It was the coolest color I’d ever seen.

“Nothin’,” he grumbled, looking back down at the ground. He kicked a rock, and something shiny caught my attention.

I pushed the kickstand down with my foot and climbed off to get a better look. Duct tape covered the whole toe of his shoe. “Why’s your shoe got tape on it?” I asked, sitting down on the curb next to him.

He curled his lip up like I was annoying him. “To hold it together, duh.”

I scrunched my face up and stuck out my tongue. “Well you don’t gotta be so mean about it. I was only asking a question.”

“You were bein’ nosy is what you were doin’,” the boy threw back, but for some reason instead of getting mad that he was being a turd, I found it kind of fun.

“Why don’t you just ask your mommy to get you a new pair?”

The boy looked at me like I was crazy. “’Cause these are my lucky shoes,” he answered. “You can’t just get a new pair of lucky shoes,” he finished with a snort, like I should’ve already known that.

“What’s so lucky about them?”

For the first time since I laid eyes on him, he seemed interested in talking to me. “I was wearing ’em the first time I played basketball, and I made, like, a billion shots. And I was wearing ’em the first time I picked up a guitar, and now I’m a freakin’ pro at it.”

I sat up straight and my eyes went big. “You play the guitar?”

“Yup.”

“That’s so awesome!” I cried, scooting closer. “So, are you gonna be, like, a famous musician one day?”

“Pfft. Yeah. Totally. I’m gonna be super famous.”

“Cool,” I whispered reverently.

“Cool,” he returned.

We sat quiet for a really long time, and I started to feel a little weird that neither of us was saying anything. “I’m Tatum. What’s your name?” I finally asked when the silence started to bug me too much to ignore.

“Declan.”

I let out a little giggle. “Declan? That’s your name?”

He scowled at me the same way my daddy did that time I used his fancy tie to wash the dishes.

“Yeah? So?”

“So it’s a stupid name.” I laughed. “Who’s named Declan?”

“It’s not stupid!” he shouted. “It’s an awesome name. And you’re one to talk. You’ve got ugly hair!”

I tugged at the frizzy red strands, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “My hair’s not ugly,” I whispered.

We grew silent once again, and he looked like he regretted making fun of my hair.

“So, I’ve never seen you before. Did you just move here?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he grumbled, looking back to the ground, kicking at a few of the pebbles. “My dad’s work made him move from San Diego, so I had to come. It’s so dumb. I hate it here.”

“Hey! It’s not so bad. There’s lots of places to ride your bike. And there’s a really neat stream back in the woods behind the neighborhood. I could show you all the fun stuff to do if you want.”

“Why would I do that?” Declan made a face like he smelled something gross. “You’re a girl.”

My anger made my spine stiff, causing me to sit up straighter as I narrowed my eyes into slits. It was a face I made a lot. My mom liked to say it was because I had a redhead’s temper, whatever that meant. She said I got it from her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re nasty and got cooties and I don’t wanna be your friend, so leave me alone.”

I stood and slammed my hands on my hips. “You’d be lucky to be my friend! I’m a great friend!”

He rolled his eyes and laughed. “Whatever.”

I let out a huff, unable to come up with words mean enough to make him feel as bad as I felt right then. When I couldn’t think of anything to say, I resorted to my usual reaction whenever I got angry. I hauled back and kicked him right in the shin.

“You’re a jerk-face!” I shouted. Then I ran to my bike, hopped on, and peddled home as fast as my legs would take me.

* * *

“Children, quiet down, please,” our teacher, Mrs. Heffernan, ordered. “We have a new student starting with us today. Please welcome Declan Forrester to our class.”

My head shot up and my gaze landed on the mean boy with dark hair and pretty gray-blue eyes that I’d kicked a few days before. He was staring right at me, the attention making my skin tingly and itchy.

The classroom filled with whispers as he moved to take the empty desk next to mine. I looked back down at the notebook I’d been drawing in, still upset with him because of how rude he’d been the first time I met him.

I felt him staring at me the whole time Mrs. Heffernan went on about the difference between verbs and adverbs. Every time I peeked up, I found him still watching me.

I did my best to pretend he wasn’t there, but he was making it really hard.

“Psst.”

I scribbled harder, my pencil nearly tearing through the page.

“Psssssst!”

“What?” I hissed, slapping my hand on my desk.

Mrs. Heffernan’s attention came our way. “Declan, Tatum? Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

“No, ma’am,” we mumbled at the same time.

He stopped bugging me for the rest of the lesson, and when it was time for recess I practically ran out of the room to avoid him.

* * *

I was sitting underneath a tall tree near the fence line with my head down, my notebook in my lap, and my pencil in hand when a shadow suddenly crawled over the page. Declan stood over me, staring with those cool eyes of his. I’d worked really hard to avoid him all week long, and I didn’t want to talk to him now.

“What do you want?” I snapped.

“How come you don’t play with the other girls during recess?”

I glanced over to where Stephanie Walters and the rest of the girls were pretending to have a tea party. Tea parties were stupid. I’d rather have been playing tetherball, but the boys wouldn’t let me play with them because I was a girl. It hurt my feelings, but my mom told me that when I got older, the boys would stop being so mean and would eventually want to play with me.

I tipped my head back down to my drawing, letting my long hair block Declan’s view of my face as I muttered my answer. “’Cause they don’t like me.”

The leaves on the ground crunched as he sat down beside me. “Why don’t they like you?”

My face scrunched up like I’d just tasted something nasty. “Because I don’t like to play their dumb girly games, so they always make fun of me.”

“Well, it’s their loss. You don’t need them anyway. They’re losers.”

The pencil fell out of my hands at the same time my mouth dropped open. “Why’re you being nice to me? Last week you said you didn’t want to be my friend. You called me gross.”

He shrugged and started pulling blades of grass from the ground. “Yeah well, I didn’t mean it,” he grumbled. “I decided I wanna be your friend after all.”

I wasn’t sure why that made me so happy, but my chest got tight and my heart did a funny flippy thing. “Really?”

“Yeah, sure. I guess. Besides, you’ve got cool hair.”

My smile stretched so wide my cheeks started to hurt. “And I think your lucky shoes are really awesome.”

One corner of his mouth tipped up in a little grin. “Thanks.”

“So… best friends?”

I held my hand out for him to shake just like I saw my daddy do with other men. Declan took my hand in his and pumped it up and down so hard my body jerked, causing me to giggle.

“Best friends,” he agreed.