The next day, Mr. Horowitz told us about a local writing contest he wanted us to enter. He said we had to hand in one of our pieces for the contest, but we could choose which one to enter. I went through the stuff I had written in class so far, but nothing seemed good enough to enter in a contest. Darren already knew what he was going to enter, so he went through my class portfolio to help me find something.

“How about this piece you wrote about your grandma?” he asked.

I thought it was too personal, so I decided to hand in my essay about being scared on the horse. It was funny, and everybody seemed to like it when I read it in class. Mr. Horowitz stopped me as I was leaving class.

“Emme, this essay on overcoming your fear is good, but I was blown away by your piece on your grandmother’s illness. I wish you’d consider entering it,” he said.

It was the first time the man had said anything positive about my work. Normally he’d just sit back, put his fingertips together and say, “In-ter-est-ing,” whenever I read something or participated in class, so I agreed to do it. I guess I wanted him to like me. Besides, the chances of my winning and having to read it out loud in front of a room full of people weren’t good. Darren was waiting for me outside the room, and I told him I was submitting the story about my grandma instead.

“Good choice,” he said.

I forgot about the contest until Mr. Horowitz mentioned it in class two weeks later. He announced that twenty students in the area had been chosen to read their work at Java Café and the judges would pick the winners that night. He said Rory, Darren, Tom, and I had been chosen. I couldn’t believe it, and I overheard someone say she was shocked I had made it, too. It stung, but I tried not to let it bother me too much. After class, I couldn’t wait to tell Brendon.

“Awesome. What did you write about? Your amazing boyfriend?” he asked.

“Not quite. Oh crap.”

“What?”

“I’m going to have to get up in front of all those people and read,” I said. “And the worst thing is Mr. Horowitz made me enter this sad story I wrote about my grandma. I’ll probably be so nervous, and I’ll start crying and make a fool of myself.”

“You’ll be fine, and I’ll be there. If you start crying, I’ll pull the fire alarm, and everybody will clear out,” he said.

“What if you’re not near the fire alarm?”

“Then I’ll set the place on fire so it’ll go off on its own. Problem solved,” he said, smiling. “We have to go out and celebrate. What about going to the new Japanese place?”

I wasn’t crazy about that restaurant, so I suggested we get takeout from the sandwich place and eat in the park like we had on our first date.

“We have to do something more special than just sandwiches. I know—there’s this Italian restaurant right on the water. You’ll love it.”

I almost choked when we walked into the restaurant. It was exactly like the one I had imagined us at before we ever started going out. There were lights all over the trees and fake indoor vines and candles on all the tables. The glow from the flames flickered against the glass and gave the place a magical look. Brendon kept smiling at me as I ate my spaghetti.

“What? Do I have sauce on my face?” I asked.

“No. I was thinking about the scene from the cartoon—you know where the two dogs are eating spaghetti,” he said.

“Are you implying I look like a dog when I eat?” I asked.

“You know what I mean, the part in the movie where they’re slurping the noodles, and they get caught on the same noodle.”

I picked up a piece of spaghetti with my fork, but apparently it worked a lot better with cartoon dogs because the noodle broke and sauce splashed in his face. He wiped it off as we cracked up.

When I was a kid, I used to have a coloring book my grandpa gave me where this teenage girl based on a doll did all these traditional date things like go to football games and have romantic dinners. Grandma was upset when he bought it for me because she thought the doll was an unrealistic role model, but she calmed down after my dad pointed out the doll had been an astronaut and a teacher, while all the boyfriend doll ever did was wear outfits that matched hers. As stupid as it sounded, I always hoped that I would have a similar life. Well, just with the fun dating stuff, not going out with a guy who wore clothes that matched mine. I had never had a coloring book moment before, and now it seemed like I was living that life. Sure, I didn’t have a pink convertible or the plastic mansion, and my hair was far from perfect, but I was happy. It was the first time I had ever lived up to a coloring book moment, and I hoped it would last.