The first time I got close to Chris, I was a week into the summer after my junior year at Montgomery High. I was leaning on the court fence, waiting for my coach, and Chris was edging the grass with a Weed Whacker. I heard it and felt the pricks of cut grass on the backs of my calves. I stepped away from it.

“Sorry, miss.”

“It’s all right, I—”

My voice hadn’t drifted off or gotten lost. I didn’t swallow the rest of the sentence or forget what I was saying. The final words never existed. Everything before I saw him was fake, and after that moment, my life became real. Like Dorothy walking out of her black-and-white world into a three-dimensional colorscape.

My life wasn’t divided into the years before that moment and the time after because he was handsome or strong. It wasn’t because he was charming or interesting.

It was because he was mine.

We stood watching each other through the chain-link fence, and I knew I was just as much his. We claimed each other in those first seconds.

Blue is blue and the sky is up and the earth is down. These aren’t articles of faith or belief, but knowledge. Necessity. Denying gravity existed wouldn’t hurt you, because it was always the law, and up was still up and down was still where you landed when you jumped.

A yellow ball bounced behind me, skidding and clicking against the fence.

“Catherine!” Dennis, my coach, called. He could hit drunk, but speaking was harder. He slurred at the ends of his sentences. He’d always said muscle memory was more powerful than anything the brain could remember. He said your body was smarter than your mind.

He was right. My body knew this young man with the blades of grass stuck to his pants and the specks of dirt on his cheeks.

“Hey, Catherine.” The boy said my name like a prayer that had already been answered.

The ball rolled by my feet. I tapped it, bouncing it under my control, until I got the string face under it and I could let it roll across. Admittedly, I was being a bit of a show-off before I replied.

“Hi, Weed Whacker guy.”

“I’m sorry if the noise bugs you. I can do court seven.”

“You’re not bothering me.”

The distance between us, the fence, the next hour of lessons, all of it overwhelmed me. Too many obstacles.

He made the first move, stepping away from the fence and saluting. “Next time then.”

He took his Weed Whacker to court seven, and I hit the ball back to my coach.

I never hit so hard or so accurately. I astonished Coach Dennis, but I wasn’t surprised. I was sure everything I’d do from then on out would be right and true.

When I finished my lesson, the boy with the Weed Whacker and I found each other by the water fountains, attracted like magnets. We didn’t say hello or introduce each other.

Wide-eyed, he said, “Did you feel it?”

I knew exactly what he meant.

“I did. I did feel it.”

We stole to the back room of the pro shop to marvel at this unnamed thing that changed everything.

“What was it?” I asked when he closed the door.

“I don’t know.” He touched my arm.

It felt as though two planets that had been on separate trajectories for light years had finally collided and melded. I stared at his hand, and when he tried to move it, I put mine on top of his.

“Have you felt it before?” I asked.

“No. But I still kind of… it’s still there.”

“Yeah. Me too. I’m…” What I was about to say had felt so trivial, I almost skipped the step. “I’m Catherine.”

“I know.”

Of course. In our little fishbowl, I was famous.

“I’m Chris. Chris Carmichael.”

“Chris.” I said his name the way he’d said mine, finally understanding how to pray for something I’d already been given. It was almost the same as praying that it not be taken away.

“I have to see you again,” he said as if waking from a half-dream.

I could. I had to. I had no choice. But I couldn’t agree before Irv, who ran the shop, burst in with a clipboard. He had a huge round belly, crooked teeth, and a soft spot for Barrington kids who needed jobs.

He froze when he saw us. “Carmichael, get out to court seven and finish the job.” His eyes flicked to me and back to Chris.

“Yes, sir.”

“And young lady?”

I held up my chin. I was an heiress and a club member.

“I believe you don’t want your mother to hear back about this. So keep it quiet.”

I didn’t realize at the time that he was protecting Chris, but later, after I realized it, I was grateful to him.

Though in the end, no one could protect Chris but me.