Stephanie Perkins

“So will your father object to me? Because I'm not American? I mean, not fully American? He's not one of those mad, patriotic nuts,is he?""No.He'll love you,because you make me happy.He's not always so bad."St. Clair raises his dark eyebrows."I know! But I said not always. He still is the majority of the time.It's just...he means well. He thought he was doing good,sending me here.""And was it? Good?""Look at you,fishing for compliments.""I wouldn't object to a compliment."I play with a strand of his hair. "I like how you pronounce 'banana.' Ba-nah-na. And sometimes you trill your r's. I love that.""Brilliant," he whispers in my ear. "Because I've spent loads of time practicing."My room is dark,and Etienne wraps his arms back around me.We listen to the opera singer in a peaceful silence.I'm surprised by how much I'll miss France. Atlanta was home for almost eighteen years,and though I've only know Paris for the last nine months,it's changed me.I have a new city to learn next year,but I'm not scared.Because I was right.For the two of us, home isn't a place.It's a person.And we're finally home.”

“As for us,Etienne was right.Our schools are only a twenty-minute transit ride away.He'll stay with me on the weekends, and we'll visit each other as often as possible during the week. We'll be together.We both got our Point Zero wishes-each other.He said he wished for me every time.He was wishing for me when I entered the tower."Mmm," I say.He's kissing my neck."That's it," Rashmi says. "I'm outta here.Enjoy your hormones."Josh and Mer follow her exit,and we're alone.Just the way I like it."Ha!" Ettiene says. "Just the way I like it."He pulls me onto his lap,and I wrap my legs around his waist.His lips are velvet soft,and we kiss until the streetlamps flicker on outside. Until the opera singer begins her evening routine. "I'm going to miss her," I say."I'll sing to you." He tucks my stripe behind my ear. "Or I'll take you to the opera.Or I'll fly you back here to visit. Whatever you want.Anything you want."I lace my fingers through his. "I want to stay right here,in this moment.""Isn't that the name of the latest James Ashley bestseller? In This Moment?""Careful.Someday you'll meet him, and he won't be nearly as amusing in person."Etienne grins. "Oh,so he'll only be mildly amusing? I suppose I can handle mildly amusing.""I'm serious! You have to promise me right now,this instant,that you won't leave me once you meet him.Most people would run.""I'm not most people."I smile. "I know.But you still have to promise."His eyes lock on mine. "Anna,I promise that I will never leave you."My heart pounds in response.And Etienne knows it,because he takes my hand and holds it against his chest,to show me how hard his heart is pounding, too. "And now for yours," he says.I'm still dazed. "My what?"He laughs. "Promise you won't flee once I introduce you to my father.Or, worse, leave me for him."I pause. "Do you think he'll object to me?""Oh,I'm sure he will."Okay.Not the answer I was looking for.Etienne sees my alarm. "Anna.You know my father dislikes anything that makes me happy.And you make me happier than anyone ever has." He smiles. "Oh,yes. He'll hate you.""So....that's a good thing?""I don't care what he thinks.Only what you think." He holds me tighter. "Like if you think I need to stop biting my nails.""You've worn your pinkies to nubs," I say cheerfully."Or if I need to start ironing my bedspread.""I DO NOT IRON MY BEDSPREAD.""You do.And I love it." I blush,and Etienne kisses my warm cheeks. "You know,my mum loves you.""She goes?""You're the only thing I've talked about all year.She's ecstatic we're together."I'm smiling inside and out. "I can't wait to meet her.”

“You aren't like your mom.""I am.But I don't want to be like that anymore,I want what I want." He turns to me again,his face anxious. "I told my father's friends that I'm studying at Berkeley next year.It worked.He's really,really angry with me,but it worked.You told me to go for his pride.You were right.""So." I'm cautious,hardly daring to believe. "You're moving to California?""I have to.""Right." I swallow hard. "Because of your mom.""Because of you. I'll only be a twenty-minute train ride from your school,and I'll make the commute to see you every night.I'd take a commute ten times that just to be with you every night."His words are too perfect.It must be a misunderstanding,surely I'm misunderstanding-"You're the most incredible girl I've ever known.You're gorgeous and smart, and you make my laugh like no one else can.And I can talk to you. And I know after all this I don't deserve you,but what I'm trying to say is that I love you,Anna.Very much."I'm holding my breath.I can't talk,but my eyes are filling with tears.He takes it the wrong way. "Oh God.And I've mucked things up again,haven't I? I didn't mean to attack you like this.I mean I did but...all right." His voice cracks. "I'll leave.Or you can go down first,and then I'll come down,and I promise I'll never bother you again-"He starts to stand,but I grab his arm. "No!"His body freezes. "I'm so sorry," he says. "I never mean to hurt you."I trail my fingers across his cheek. He stays perfectly still for me. "Please stop apologizing,Etienne.""Say my name again," he whispers.I close my eyes and lean forward. "Etienne."He takes my hands into his.Those pefect hands,that fit mine just so. "Anna?"Our foreheads touch. "Yes?""Will you please tell me you love me? I'm dying here."And then we're laughing.And them I'm in his arms,and we're kissing,at first quickly-to make up for lost time-and then slowly,because we have all the time in the world.And his lips are soft and honey sweet,and the careful, passionate way he moves them against my own says that he savors the way I taste,too.And in between kisses,I tell him I love him.Again and again and again.”

“I'm speechless.I think at the rooftops of Paris.he touches my cheek,pulling my gaze back to him.I suck in my breath."Anna.I'm sorry for what happened in Luxembourg Gardens.Not because of the kiss-I've never had a kiss like that in my life-but because I didn't tell you why I was running away.I chased after Meredith because of you."Touch me again. Please,touch me again."All I could think about was what that bastard did to you last Christmas. Toph never tried to explain or apologize. How could I do that to Mer? And I ought to have called you before I went to Ellie's,but I was so anxious to just end it,once and for all,that I wasn't thinking straight."I reach for him. "St. Clair-"He pulls back. "And that.Why don't you call me Etienne anymore?""But...no one else calls you that.It was weird.Right?""No.It wasn't." His expression saddens. "And every time you say 'St. Clair,' it's like you're rejecting me again.""I have never rejected you.""But you have.And for Dave." His tone is venomous."And you rejected me for Ellie on my birthday. I don't understand.If you liked me so much,why didn't you break up with her?"He gazes at the river. "I've been confused. I've been so stupid.""Yes.You have.""I deserve that.""Yes.You do." I pause. "But I've been stupid,too.You were right.About...the alone thing.”

“What are you doing here?"He takes a deep breath. "I came for you.""And how on EARTH did you know I was up here?""I saw you." He pauses. "I came to make another wish,and I was standing on Point Zero when I saw you enter the tower. I called your name,and you looked around,but you didn't see me.""So you decided to just...come up?" I'm doubtful,despite the evidence in front of me.It must have taken superhuman strength for him to make it past the first flight of stairs alone."I had to.I couldn't wait for you to come down,I couldn't wait any longer. I had to see you now.I have to know-"He breaks off,and my pulse races. What what what?"Why did you lie to me?"The question startles me.Not what I was expecting.Nor hoping.He's still on the ground,but he stares up at me.His brown eyes are huge and heartbroken. I'm confused. "I'm sorry, I don't know what-""November.At the creperie. I asked you if we'd talked about anything strange that night I was drunk in your room.If I had said anything about our relationship,or my relationship with Ellie.And you said no."Oh my God. "How did you know?""Josh told me.""When?""November."I'm stunned. "I...I..." My throat is dry. "If you'd seen the look on your face that day.In the restaurant. How could I possibly tell you? With your mother-""But if you had,I wouldn't have wasted all of these months.I thought you were turning me down.I thought you weren't interested.""But you were drunk! You had a girlfriend! What was I supposed to do? God,St. Clair,I didn't even know if you meant it.""Of course I meant it." He stands,and his legs falter."Careful!"Step.Step.Step. He toddles toward me,and I reach for his hand to guide him.We're so close to the edge. He sits next to me and grips my hand harder. "I meant it,Anna.I mean it.""I don't under-"He's exasperated. "I'm saying I'm in love with you! I've been in love with you this whole bleeding year!"My mind spins. "But Ellie-""I cheated on her every day.In my mind, I thought of you in ways I shouldn't have,again and again. She was nothing compared to you.I've never felt this way about anybody before-""But-""The first day of school." He scoots closer. "We weren't physics partners by accident.I saw Professeur Wakefield assigning lab partners based on where people were sitting,so I leaned forward to borrow a pencil from you at just the right moment so he'd think we were next to each other.Anna,I wanted to be your partner the first day.""But..." I can't think straight."I doubt you love poetry! 'I love you as certain dark things are loved, secretly,between the shadow and the soul.'"I blink at him."Neruda.I starred the passage.God," he moans. "Why didn't you open it?""Because you said it was for school.""I said you were beautiful.I slept in your bed!""You never mave a move! You had a girlfriend!""No matter what a terrible boyfriend I was,I wouldn't actually cheat on her. But I thought you'd know.With me being there,I thought you'd know."We're going in circles. "How could I know if you never said anything?""How could I know if you never said anyting?""You had Ellie!""You had Toph! And Dave!”

“There sure are a lot of stairs. Holy crap,will these things ever end?Seriously?MORE STAIRS?This is ridiculous.I'm never buying a house with stairs.I won't even steps to my front door,just a gradual incline.”

“I smile as I leave them, wondering what building my dad would try to save with his writing.Probably a baseball stadium. Or a Burger King.”

“Is he crying? I lean forward for a better look and find him staring right at me.Oh,no.Oh no oh no oh NO.He stops. "Anna?""Um.Hi." My face is on fire. I want to rewind this reel,shut it off, destroy it.His expression runs from confusion to anger. "Were you listening to that?""I'm sorry-""I can't believe you were eavesdropping!""It was an accident.I was passing by,and...you were there. And I've heard so much about your father,and I was curious.I'm sorry.""Well," he says, "I hope what you saw met your grandest expectations." He stalks past me,but I grab his arm."Wait! I don't even speak French, remember?""Do you proise," he says slowly, "that you didn't understand a single word of our conversation?"I let go of him. "No.I heard you. I heard the whole thing.”

“We used to hang out all the time. St. Clair and me.But after you arrived,I hardly saw him. He'd sit next to you in class,at lunch,at the movies. Everywhere. And even though I was suspicious,I knew the first time I heard you call him Etienne-I knew you loved him.And I knew by his response-the way his eyes lit up every time you said it-I knew he loved you,too. And I ignored it,because I didn't want to believe it."The struggle rises inside me again. "I don't know if he loves me.I don't know if he does,or if he ever did.It's all so messed up.""It's obvious he wants more than friendship." Mer takes my shaking mug. "Haven't you seen him? He suffers every time he looks at you.I've never seen anyone so miserable in my life.""That's not true." I'm remembering he said the situation with his father is really terrible right now. "He has other things on his mind,more important things.""Why aren't the two of you together?"The directness of her question throws me. "I don't know.Sometimes I think there are only so many opportunies...to get together with someone.And we've both screwed up so many times"-my voice grows quiet-"that we've missed our chance.""Anna." Mer pauses. "That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard.""But-""But what? You love him,and he loves you, and you live in the most romantic city in the world."I shake my head. "It's not that simple.""Then let me put it another way.A gorgeous boy is in love with you, and you're not even gonna try to make it work?”

“You tell me I'm beautiful,and that you like my hair and you like my smile. You rest your leg against mine in darkened theaters,and then you act as if nothing happened when the lights go up.You slept in my bed for three nights straight,and then you just...blew me off for the next month.What am I supposed to do with that,St. Clair? You said on my birthday that you were afraid of being alone,but I've been here this whole time.This whole time.”

“School has ruined cinema.It's official. There's nothing worth living for.”

“I tell the annoying classmates to shove it, and Madame Guillotine gets mad at me. Not because I told them to shove it,but because I didn't say it in French. What is wrong with this school?”

“If I had a euro for every stupid thing I've done, I could buy the Mona Lisa.”

“We are still holding hands.Okay,we should let go.This is the point where it would be normal to let go.Why aren't we letting go?I force my gaze to the Grand Bassin. He does the same.We're not watching the boats. His hand is burning,but he doesn't let go.And then-he scoots closer. Just barely.I glance down and see the back of his shirt has crawled up,exposing a slice of his back.His skin is smooth and pale.It's the sexiest thing I have ever seen.He shifts again,and my body answers with the same.We're arm against arm, leg against leg.His hand crushes mine, willing me to look at hime.I do.Etienne's dark eyes search mine. "What are we doing?" His voice is strained.He's so beautiful,so perfect. I'm dizzy. My heart pounds,my pulse races. I tilt my face toward his,and he answers with an identical slow tilt toward mine.He closes his eyes.Our lips brush lightly."If you ask me to kiss you,I will," he says.His fingers stroke the inside of my wrists,and I burst into flames. "Kiss me," I say.He does.”

“What are you doing?" He flops down next to me. "Checking your email?St. Clair snorts. "Give the lad a medal for his brilliant skills in detection.”

“I didn't mean to mess things up, I don't know what got into me-"He rubs his temples. "Please don't apologize.It's not your fault.""But if I hadn't dragged you out to dance-""Anna." Etienne speaks slowly. "You didn't make me do anything I didn't want to do."My face grows hot as the knowledge explodes inside of me like dynamite.He likes me.Etienne really does like me.”

“Is Etienene okay?""Haven't seen him.He went to Ellie's last night."Just when I thought I couldn't feel any worse.I twist the corners of my pillow. "Did I,uh,say anything weird to him last night?""Apart from acting like a jealous girlfriend and saying you never wanted to speak to him again? No. Nothing weird at all." I moan as she recounts the night for me blow by blow. "Listen," she says when she finishes, "what's the deal with you two?"""What do you mean?""You know what I mean.You two are inseparable.""Except when he's with his girlfriend.""Right.So what's the deal?"I groan again. "I don't know.""Have you guys...you know...done anything?""No!""But you like him.And he likes you, too."I stop choking my pillow. "You think?""Please.The boy gets a boner every time you walk in the room."My eyes pop back open. Does she mean that figuratively or has she actually seen something? No. Focus, Anna. "So why-""Why is he still with Ellie? He told you last night. He's lonely, or at least he's scared of being lonely. Josh says with all of this stuff with his mom, he's been too freaked out to change anything else in his life."So Meredith was right. Etienne is afraid of change. Why haven't I talked about this with Rashmi before? It seems obvious now.Of course she has inside information,because Etienne talks to Josh,and Josh talks to Rashmi."You really think he likes me?" I can't help it.She sighs. "Anna.He teases you all the time. It's classic boy-pulling-girl's-pigtai-syndrome.And whenever anyone else even remotely does it,he always takes your side and tells them to shove it.""Huh."She pauses. "You really like him, don't you?"I'm struggling not to cry. "No.It's not like that.""Liar.So are you getting up today or what? You need sustenance.”

“We're in her bedroom,and she's helping me write an essay about my guniea pig for French class. She's wearing soccer shorts with a cashmere sweater, and even though it's silly-looking, it's endearingly Meredith-appropriate. She's also doing crunches. For fun."Good,but that's present tense," she says. "You aren't feeding Captain Jack carrot sticks right now.""Oh. Right." I jot something down, but I'm not thinking about verbs. I'm trying to figure out how to casually bring up Etienne."Read it to me again. Ooo,and do your funny voice! That faux-French one your ordered cafe creme in the other day, at that new place with St. Clair."My bad French accent wasn't on purpose, but I jump on the opening. "You know, there's something,um,I've been wondering." I'm conscious of the illuminated sign above my head, flashing the obvious-I! LOVE! ETIENNE!-but push ahead anyway. "Why are he and Ellie still together? I mean they hardly see each other anymore. Right?"Mer pauses, mid-crunch,and...I'm caught. She knows I'm in love with him, too.But then I see her struggling to reply, and I realize she's as trapped in the drama as I am. She didn't even notice my odd tone of voice. "Yeah." She lowers herself slwoly back to the floor. "But it's not that simple. They've been together forever. They're practically an old married couple. And besides,they're both really...cautious.""Cautious?""Yeah.You know.St. Clair doesn't rock the boat. And Ellie's the same way. It took her ages to choose a university, and then she still picked one that's only a few neighborhoods away. I mean, Parsons is a prestigious school and everything,but she chose it because it was familiar.And now with St. Clair's mom,I think he's afraid to lose anyone else.Meanwhile,she's not gonna break up with him,not while his mom has cancer. Even if it isn't a healthy relationship anymore."I click the clicky-button on top of my pen. Clickclickclickclick. "So you think they're unhappy?"She sighs. "Not unhappy,but...not happy either. Happy enough,I guess. Does that make sense?"And it does.Which I hate. Clickclickclickclick.It means I can't say anything to him, because I'd be risking our friendship. I have to keep acting like nothing has changed,that I don't feel anything ore for him than I feel for Josh.”

“Speaking of cold...I shiver. "Has the temperature dropped, or is it just me?""Here." Etienne unwraps the black scarf that had been tied loosely around his neck,and hands it to me. I take it, gently, and wrap it around mine. It makes me dizzy.It smells like freshly scrubbed boy. It smells like him."Your hair looks nice," he says. "You bleached it again.I touch the stripe self-consciously. "Mom helped me.""That breeze is wicked,I'm going for coffee." Josh snaps his sketchbook closed. I'd forgotten he was here again. "You coming?"Etienne looks at me, waiting to see how I answer.Coffee! I'm dying for a real cup. I smile at Josh. "Sounds perfect."And then I'm heading down the steps of the Pantheon, cool and white and glittering, in the most beautiful city in the world. I'm with two attractive, intelligent,funny boys and I'm grinning ear to ear. If Bridgette could see me now.I mean,who needs Christopher when Etienne St. Clair is in the world?But as soon as I think of Toph, I get that same stomach churching I always do when I think about him now.Shame that I ever thought he might wait. That I wasted so much time on him. Ahead of mine,Etienne laughs at something Josh said. And the sound sends me spiraling into panic as the information hits me again and again and again.What am I going to do? I'm in love with my new best friend.”

“He looks up.Our eyes lock,and he breaks into a slow smile. My heart beats faster and faster. Almost there.He sets down his book and stands.And then this-the moment he calls my name-is the real moment everything changes.He is no longer St. Clair, everyone's pal, everyone's friend.He is Etienne. Etienne,like the night we met. He is Etienne,he is my friend.He is so much more.Etienne.My feet trip in three syllables. E-ti-enne. E-ti-enne, E-ti-enne. His name coats my tongue like melting chocolate. He is so beautiful, so perfect.My throat catches as he opens his arms and wraps me in a hug.My heart pounds furiously,and I'm embarrassed,because I know he feels it. We break apart, and I stagger backward. He catches me before I fall down the stairs."Whoa," he says. But I don't think he means me falling.I blush and blame it on clumsiness. "Yeesh,that could've been bad."Phew.A steady voice.He looks dazed. "Are you all right?"I realize his hands are still on my shoulders,and my entire body stiffens underneath his touch. "Yeah.Great. Super!""Hey,Anna. How was your break?"John.I forget he was here.Etienne lets go of me carefully as I acknowledge Josh,but the whole time we're chatting, I wish he'd return to drawing and leave us alone. After a minute, he glances behind me-to where Etienne is standing-and gets a funny expression on hs face. His speech trails off,and he buries his nose in his sketchbook. I look back, but Etienne's own face has been wiped blank.We sit on the steps together. I haven't been this nervous around him since the first week of school. My mind is tangled, my tongue tied,my stomach in knots. "Well," he says, after an excruciating minute. "Did we use up all our conversation over the holiday?"The pressure inside me eases enough to speak. "Guess I'll go back to the dorm." I pretend to stand, and he laughs."I have something for you." He pulls me back down by my sleeve. "A late Christmas present.""For me? But I didn't get you anything!"He reaches into a coat pocket and brings out his hand in a fist, closed around something very small. "It's not much,so don't get excited.""Ooo,what is it?""I saw it when I was out with Mum, and it made me think of you-""Etienne! Come on!"He blinks at hearing his first name. My face turns red, and I'm filled with the overwhelming sensation that he knows exactly what I'm thinking. His expression turns to amazement as he says, "Close your eyes and hold out your hand."Still blushing,I hold one out. His fingers brush against my palm, and my hand jerks back as if he were electrified. Something goes flying and lands with a faith dink behind us. I open my eyes. He's staring at me, equally stunned."Whoops," I say.He tilts his head at me."I think...I think it landed back here." I scramble to my feet, but I don't even know what I'm looking for. I never felt what he placed in my hands. I only felt him. "I don't see anything! Just pebbles and pigeon droppings," I add,trying to act normal.Where is it? What is it?"Here." He plucks something tiny and yellow from the steps above him. I fumble back and hold out my hand again, bracing myself for the contact. Etienne pauses and then drops it from a few inches above my hand.As if he's avoiding me,too.It's a glass bead.A banana.He clears his throat. "I know you said Bridgette was the only one who could call you "Banana," but Mum was feeling better last weekend,so I took her to her favorite bead shop. I saw that and thought of you.I hope you don't mind someone else adding to your collection. Especially since you and Bridgette...you know..."I close my hand around the bead. "Thank you.""Mum wondered why I wanted it.""What did you tell her?""That it was for you,of course." He says this like, duh.I beam.The bead is so lightweight I hardly feel it, except for the teeny cold patch it leaves in my palm.”

“In the history of terrible holidays, this ranks as the worst ever. Worse than the Fourth of July when Granddad showed up to see the fireworks in a kilt and insisted on singing "Flower of Scotland" instead of "America the Beautiful." Worse than the Halloween when Trudy Sherman and I both went to school dressed as Glinda the Good Witch,and she told everyone her costume was better than mine,because you could see my purple "Monday" panties through my dress AND YOU TOTALLY COULD.I'm not talking to Bridgette.She calls every day,but I ignore her.It's over. The Christmas gift I bought her,a tiny package wrapped in red-and-white striped paper,has been shoved into the bottom of my suitcase.It's a model of Pont Neuf,the oldest bridge in Paris. It was part of a model train set,and because of my poor language skills, St. Clair spent fifteen minutes convincing the shopkeeper to sell the bridge to me seperately.I hope I can return it.I've only been to the Royal Midtown 14 once,and even though I saw Hercules, Toph was there,too.And he was like, "Hey, Anna.Why won't you talk to Bridge?" and I had to run into the restroom. One of the new girls followed me in and said she thinks Toph is an insensitive douchebag motherhumping assclown,and that I shouldn't let him get to me.Which was sweet,but didn't really help.”

“To: Anna Oliphant From: Etienne St. Clair Subject: HAPPY CHRISTMASHave you gotten used to the time difference? Bloody hell,I can't sleep. I'd call,but I don't know if you're awake or doing the family thing or what. The bay fog is so thick that I can't see out my window.But if I could, I am quite certain I'd discover that I'm the only person alive in San Francisco.To: Anna Oliphant From: Etienne St. Clair Subject: I forgot to tell you.Yesterday I saw a guy wearing an Atlanta Film Festival shirt at the hospital.I asked if he knew you,but he didn't.I also met an enormous,hair man in a cheeky Mrs. Claus getup. he was handing out gifts to the cancer patients.Mum took the attached picture. Do I always look so startled?To: Anna Oliphant From: Etienne St. Clair Subject: Are you awake yet?Wake up.Wake up wake up wake up.To: Etienne St. Clair From: Anna Oliphant Subject: re: Are you awake yet?I'm awake! Seany started jumping on my bed,like,three hours ago. We've been opening presents and eating sugar cookies for breakfast. Dad gave me a gold ring shaped like a heart. "For Daddy's sweetheart," he said. As if I'm the type of girl who'd wear a heart-shaped ring. FROM HER FATHER. He gave Seany tons of Star Wars stuff and a rock polishing kit,and I'd much rather have those.I can't beleive Mom invited him here for Christmas. She says it's because their divorce is amicable (um,no) and Seany and I need a father figure in our lives,but all they ever do is fight.This morning it was about my hair.Dad wants me to dye it back, because he thinks I look like a "common prostitute," and Mom wants to re-bleach it.Like either of them has a say. Oops,gotta run.My grandparents just arrived,and Granddad is bellowing for his bonnie lass.That would be me.P.S. Love the picture.Mrs. Claus is totally checking out your butt. And it's Merry Christmas, weirdo.To: Anna Oliphant From: Etienne St. Clair Subject: HAHAHA@Was it a PROMISE RING? Did your father give you a PROMISE RING?To: Etienne St. Clair From: Anna Oliphant Subject: Re: HAHAHA!I am so not responding to that.”

“That was interesting.Who was that?"Matt looks unhappy. "What?" I ask him."You'll talk to that guy,but you won't talk to us anymore?""Sorry," I mumble, and climb out of his car. "He's just a friend.Thanks for the ride."Matt gets out,too. Cherrie starts to follow,but he throws her a sharp look. "So what does that mean?" he calls out. "We aren't friends anymore? You're bailing on us?"I trudge toward the house. "I'm tired, Matt.I'm going to bed."He follows anyway.I dig out my house key,but he grabs my wrist to stop me from opening the door. "Listen,I know you don't want to talk about it,but I just have this one thing to say before you go in there and cry yourself to sleep-""Matt,please-""Toph isn't a nice guy.He's never been a nice guy. I don't know what you ever saw in him.He talks back to everyone, he's completely unreliable, he wears those stupid fake clothes-""Why are you telling me this?" I'm crying again.I pull my wrist from his grasp."I know you didn't like me as much as I liked you. I know you would have rather been with him,and I dealth with that a long time ago.I'm over it."The shame is overwhelming. Even though I knew Matt was aware that I liked Toph,it's awful to hear him say it aloud."But I'm still your friend." He's exasperated. "And I'm sick of seeing you waste your energy on that jerk. You've spent all this time afraid to talk about what was going on between you two,but if you'd bothered to just ask him, you would have discovered that he wasn't worth it. But you didn't.You never asked him, did you?"The weight of hurt is unbearable. "Please leave," I whisper. "Please just leave.""Anna." His voice levels, and he waits for me to look at him. "It was still wrong of him and Bridge not to tell you. Okay? You deserve better than that. And I sincerely hope whomever you were just talking to"-Matt gestures toward the phone in my purse-"is better than that.”

“I'm here." St. Clair is angry. "I'm just sorry I'm not there. With you. I wish there was something I could do.""Wanna come beat her up for me?""I'm packing my throwing stars right now."I sniffle and wipe my nose. "I'm such an idiot. I can't believe I thought he liked me.That's the worst part, knowing he was never even interested.""Bollocks.He was interested.""No,he wasn't," I say. "Bridge said so.""Because she's jealous! Anna, I was there that first night he called you. I've seen how he looked at you in pictures." I protest,but he interrupts. "Any bloke with a working prick would be insane not to like you."There's a shocked pause,on both ends of the line."Because,of course,of how intelligent you are. And funny.Not that you aren't attractive.Because you are. Attractive. Oh,bugger..."I wait."Are you still there,or did you hang up because I'm such a bleeding idiot?""I'm here.""God,you made me work for that."St. Clair said I'm attractive.That's the second time."You're so easy to talk to," he continues, "that sometimes I forget you're not one of the guys."Scratch that. He thinks I'm Josh. "Just drop it. I can't take being compared to a guy right now-""That's not what I meant-""How's your mom? I'm sorry, I've hogged ur entire conversation,and this was supposed to be about her,and I didn't even ask-""You did ask. It was the first thing you said when you answered. And technically I called you. And I was calling to see how the show went, which is what we've been talking about.”

“I'm sorry," she whispers."You're sorry? You've been dating Toph for the last month,and you're sorry?""It just happened.I meant to tell you, I wanted to tell you-""But you lost control over your mouth? Because it's easy,Bridge. Talking is easy. Look at me! I'm talking right-""You know it wasn't that easy! I didn't mean for it to happen,it just did-""Oh,you didn't mean to wreck my life? It just 'happened'?"Bridge stands up from behind her drums. It's impossible,but she's taller than me now. "What do you mean,wreck your life?""Don't play dumb,you know exactly what I mean. How could you do this to me?""Do what? It's not like you were dating!"I scream in frustration. "We certainly won't be now!"She sneers. "It's kind of hard to date someone who's not interested in you.""LIAR!""What,you ditch us for Paris and expect us to put our lives on hold for you?"My jaw drops. "I didn't ditch you. They sent me away.""Ooo,yeah.To Paris.Meanwhile,I'm stuck here in Shitlanta, Georgia, at the same shitty school,doing shitty babysitting jobs-""If babysitting my brother is so shitty, why do you do it?""I didn't meant-""Because you want to turn him against me, too? Well.Congratulations, Bridge. It worked. My brother loves you and hates me. So you're welcome to move in when I leave again,because that's what you want, right? My life?"She shakes with fury. "Go to hell.""Take my life.You can have it. Just watch out for the part where my BEST FRIEND SCREWS ME OVER!" I knock over a cymbal stand,and the brass hits the stage with an earsplitting crash that reverberates through the bowling alley. Matt calls my name.Has he been calling it this entire time? He grabs my arm and leads me around the electrical cords and plugs and onto the floor and away,away,away.Everyone in the bowling alley is staring at me.”

“Toph kicks over the microphone stand in a grand,asshole gesture,and the three of them jump off the stage.It's a little less dramatic when they have to come right back to take apart their stuff before the next band comes on. I try to catch Bridge's eye,but she won't look at me.Her gaze is locked on her cymbal stands. Toph takes a swig of bottled water,gives me a wave, then grabs his amp and heads for the parking lot.”

“The Penny Dreadfuls emerge,pulsating with excitement and energy,from...the staff room. Okay. So it's not as glamorous as emerging from a backstage, but they do look GREAT.Well,two of them do.The bassist is the same as always. Reggie used to come into work, mooching free tickets off Toph for the latest comic book movies. He has these long bangs that droop over half his face and cover his eyes,and I could never tell what he thought about anything. I'd be like, "How was the new Iron Man?" And he'd say, "Fine," in this bored voice. And because his eyes were hidden,I didn't know if he meant a good fine, or a so-so fine,or a bad fine. It was irritating.”

“Giveaway T-shirts stretched over monstrous beer bellies. Puffy NFL jackets and porky jowls. Granted, I'm in a bowling alley,but the differences between Americans and Parisians are shocking.I'm ashamed to see my country the way the French must see us. Couldn't these people have at least brushed their hair before leaving their houses?"I need a licorice rope," Cherrie announces. She marches toward the snack stand,and all I can think is these people are your future.The thought makes me a little happier.When she comes back,I inform her that just one bite of her Red Dye #40-infused snack could kill my brother. "God, morbid," she says. Which makes me think of St. Clair again.Because when I told him the same thing three months ago,instead of accusing me of morbidity,he asked with genuine curiosity, "Why?"Which is the polite thing to do when someone offers you such an interesting piece of conversation.”

“Well,Anna.It's Matt or the minivan. I'm not making the choice for you."I choose my ex.We used to be good friends,so I'm sort of looking forward to seeing him again. And maybe Cherrie isn't as bad as I remember.Except she is. She totally is. After only five minutes in her company,I cannot fathom how Bridge stands sitting with her at lunch every day.She turns to look at me in the backseat,and her hair swishes in a vitamin-enriched, shampoo-commercial curtain. "So.How are the guys in Paris?"I shrug. "Parisian.""Ha ha.You're funny."Her lifeless laugh is one of her lesser attributes.What does Matt see in her?"No one special?" Matt smiles and glances at me through the rearview mirror. I'm not sure why,but I forgot that he has brown eyes.Why do they make some people look amazing and others completely average? It's the same with brown hair. Statistically speaking, St. Clair and Matt are quite similar. Eyes: Brown. Hair: Brown. Race: Caucasian. There's a significant difference in height,but still. It's like comparing a gourmet truffle to a Mr. Goodbar.I think about the gourmet truffle. And his girlfriend. "Not exactly.”

“What's that?""My friend St. Clair bought it for me. So I wouldn't feel out of place."She raises her eyebrows as she pulls back onto the road. "Are there a lot of Canadians in Paris?"My face warms. "I just felt,you know, stupid for a while. Like one of those lame American tourists with the white sneakers and the cameras around their necks? So he bought it for me, so I wouldn't feel....embarrassed. American.""Being American is nothing to be ashamed of," she snaps."God,Mom,I know.I just meant-forget it.""Is this the English boy with the French father?""What does that have anything to do with it?" I'm angry. I don't like what she's implying. "Besides,he's American. He was born here? His mom lives in San Francisco. We sat next to each other on the plane."We stop at a red light.Mom stares at me. "You like him.""OH GOD,MOM.""You do.You like this boy.""He's just a friend.He has a girlfriend.""Anna has a boooy-friend," Seany chants."I do not!""ANNA HAS A BOOOY-FRIEND!"I take a sip of coffee and choke. It's disgusting. It's sludge. No, it's worse than sludge-at least sludge is organic. Seany is still taunting me. Mom reaches around and grabs his legs,which are kicking her seat again.She sees me making a face at my drink."My,my. Once semester in France, and suddenly we're Miss Sophisticated. Your father will be thrilled."Like it was my choice! Like I asked to go to Paris! And how dare she mention Dad."ANNNN-A HAS A BOOOY-FRIEND!"We merge back onto the interstate. It's rush hour,and the Atlanta traffic has stopped moving. The car behind ours shakes us with its thumping bass. The car in front sprays a cloud of exhaust straight into our vents.Two weeks.Only two more weeks.s”

“I'm jittery.It's like the animatronic band from Chuck E. Cheese is throwing a jamboree in my stomach. I've always hated Chuck E. Cheese. Why am I thinking about Chuck E. Cheese? I don't know why I'm nervous.I'm just seeing my mom again. And Seany.And Bridge! Bridge said she'd come.St. Clair's connecting flight to San Francisco doesn't leave for another three hours,so we board the train that runs between terminals,and he walks me to the arrivals area.We've been quiet since we got off the plane. I guess we're tired. We reach the security checkpoint,and he can't go any farther. Stupid TSA regulations.I wish I could introduce him to my family.The Chuck E. Cheese band kicks it up a notch,which is weird, because I'm not nervous about leaving him. I'll see him again in two weeks."All right,Banana.Suppose this is goodbye." He grips the straps of his backpack,and I do the same.This is the moment we're supposed to hug. For some reason,I can't do it."Tell your mom hi for me. I mean, I know I don't know her. She just sounds really nice. And I hope she's okay."He smiles softly. "Thanks.I'll tell her.""Call me?""Yeah,whatever. You'll be so busy with Bridge and what's-his-name that you'll forget all about your English mate, St. Clair.""Ha! So you are English!" I poke him in the stomach.He grabs my hand and we wrestle, laughing. "I claim....no...nationality."I break free. "Whatever,I totally caught you. Ow!" A gray-haired man in sunglasses bumps his red plaid suitcase into my legs."Hey,you! Apologize!" St. Clair says,but the guy is already too far away to hear.I rub my shins. "It's okay, we're in the way. I should go."Time to hug again. Why can't we do it? Finally, I step forward and put my arms around him. He's stiff,and it's awkward, especially with our backpacks in the way.I smell his hair again. Oh heavens.We pull apart. "Have fun at the show tonight" he says."I will.Have a good flight.""Thanks." He bites his thumbnail,and then I'm through security and riding down the escalator. I look back one last time. St. Clair jumps up and down, waving at me.I burst into laughter, and his face lights up.The escalator slides down.He's lost from view.I swallow hard and turn around.And then-there they are.Mom has a gigantic smile, and Seany is jumping and waving, just like St. Clair.”

“Why can't we sit together? What's the point of seat reservations,anyway? The bored woman calls my section next,and I think terrible thoughts about her as she slides my ticket through her machine. At least I have a window seat. The middle and aisle are occupied with more businessmen. I'm reaching for my book again-it's going to be a long flight-when a polite English accent speaks to the man beside me."Pardon me,but I wonder if you wouldn't mind switching seats.You see,that's my girlfriend there,and she's pregnant. And since she gets a bit ill on airplanes,I thought she might need someone to hold back her hair when...well..." St. Clair holds up the courtesy barf bag and shakes it around. The paper crinkles dramatically.The man sprints off the seat as my face flames. His pregnant girlfriend?"Thank you.I was in forty-five G." He slides into the vacated chair and waits for the man to disappear before speaking again. The guy onhis other side stares at us in horror,but St. Clair doesn't care. "They had me next to some horrible couple in matching Hawaiian shirts. There's no reason to suffer this flight alone when we can suffer it together.""That's flattering,thanks." But I laugh,and he looks pleased-until takeoff, when he claws the armrest and turns a color disturbingy similar to key lime pie. I distract him with a story about the time I broke my arm playing Peter Pan. It turned out there was more to flying than thinking happy thoughts and jumping out a window. St. Clair relaxes once we're above the clouds.Time passes quickly for an eight-hour flight.We don't talk about what waits on the other side of the ocean. Not his mother. Not Toph.Instead,we browse Skymall. We play the if-you-had-to-buy-one-thing-off-each-page game. He laughs when I choose the hot-dog toaster, and I tease him about the fogless shower mirror and the world's largest crossword puzzle."At least they're practical," he says."What are you gonna do with a giant crossword poster? 'Oh,I'm sorry Anna. I can't go to the movies tonight. I'm working on two thousand across, Norwegian Birdcall.""At least I'm not buying a Large Plastic Rock for hiding "unsightly utility posts.' You realize you have no lawn?""I could hide other stuff.Like...failed French tests.Or illegal moonshining equipment." He doubles over with that wonderful boyish laughter, and I grin. "But what will you do with a motorized swimming-pool snack float?""Use it in the bathtub." He wipes a tear from his cheek. "Ooo,look! A Mount Rushmore garden statue. Just what you need,Anna.And only forty dollars! A bargain!"We get stumped on the page of golfing accessories, so we switch to drawing rude pictures of the other people on the plane,followed by rude pictures of Euro Disney Guy. St. Clair's eyes glint as he sketches the man falling down the Pantheon's spiral staircase.There's a lot of blood. And Mickey Mouse ears.After a few hours,he grows sleepy.His head sinks against my shoulder. I don't dare move.The sun is coming up,and the sky is pink and orange and makes me think of sherbet.I siff his hair. Not out of weirdness.It's just...there.He must have woken earlier than I thought,because it smells shower-fresh. Clean. Healthy.Mmm.I doze in and out of a peaceful dream,and the next thing I know,the captain's voice is crackling over the airplane.We're here.I'm home.”

“Still have your passport?"I feel my coat once more. "Got it.""Good." And then his hand is inside my pocket.My heart spazzes,but he doesn't notice.He pulls out my passport and flicks it open.WAIT.WHY DOES HE HAVE MY PASSPORT?His eyebrows shoot up.I try to snatch it back,but he holds it out of my reach. "Why are your eyes crossed?" He laughs. "Have you had some kind of ocular surgery I don't know about?""Give it back?" Another grab and miss, and I change tactics and lunge for his coat instead. I snag his passport."NO!"I open it up,and it's...baby St. Clair. "Dude.How old is this picture?"He slings my passport at me and snatches his back. "I was in middle school.”

“So,Batman,eh?"Effing St. Clair.I cross my arms and slouch into one of the plastic seats. I am so not in the mood for this.He takes the chair next to me and drapes a relaxed arm over the back of the empty seat on his other side. The man across from us is engrossed in his laptop,and I pretend to be engrossed in his laptop,too. Well,the back of it.St. Clair hums under his breath. When I don't respond,he sings quietly. "Jingle bells,Batman smells,Robin flew away...""Yes,great,I get it.Ha ha. Stupid me.""What? It's just a Christmas song." He grins and continues a bit louder. "Batmobile lost a wheel,on the M1 motorway,hey!""Wait." I frown. "What?""What what?""You're singing it wrong.""No,I'm not." He pauses. "How do you sing it?"I pat my coat,double-checking for my passport. Phew. Still there. "It's 'Jingle bells, Batman smells,Robin laid an egg'-"St. Clair snorts. "Laid an egg? Robin didn't lay an egg-""'Batmobile lost a wheel,and the Joker got away.'"He stares at me for a moment,and then says with perfect conviction. "No.""Yes.I mean,seriously,what's up with the motorway thing?""M1 motorway. Connects London to Leeds."I smirk. "Batman is American. He doesn't take the M1 motorway.""When he's on holiday he does.""Who says Batman has time to vacation?""Why are we arguing about Batman?" He leans forward. "You're derailing us from the real topic.The fact that you, Anna Oliphant,slept in today.""Thanks.""You." He prods my leg with a finger. "Slept in."I focus on the guy's laptop again. "Yeah.You mentioned that."He flashes a crooked smile and shrugs, that full-bodied movement that turns him from English to French. "Hey, we made it,didn't we? No harm done."I yank out a book from my backpack, Your Movie Sucks, a collection of Roger Ebert's favorite reviews of bad movies. A visual cue for him to leave me alone. St. Clair takes the hint. He slumps and taps his feet on the ugly blue carpeting.I feel guilty for being so harsh. If it weren't for him,I would've missed the flight. St. Clair's fingers absentmindedly drum his stomach. His dark hair is extra messy this morning. I'm sure he didn't get up that much earlier than me,but,as usual, the bed-head is more attractive on him. With a painful twinge,I recall those other mornings together. Thanksgiving.Which we still haven't talked about.”

“So what happened?""I don't know." Another glance to ensure his continued state of Not Looking, and then I rip off my clothes in one fast swoop. I am now officially stark naked in the room with the most beautiful boy I know. Funny,but this isn't how I imagined this moment.No.Not funny.One hundred percent the exact opposite of funny."I think I maybe,possibly, vaguely remember hitting the snooze button." I jabber to cover my mortification. "Only I guess it was the off button.But I had the alarm on my phone set,too, so I don't know what happened."Underwear,on."Did you turn the ringer back on last night?""What?" I hop into my jeans, a noise he seems to determinedly ignore.His ears are apple red."You went to see a film,right? Don't you set your mobile to silent at the theater?"He's right.I'm so stupid. If I hadn't taken Meredith to A Hard Day's Night, a Beatles movie I know she loves, I would have never turned it off. We'd already be in a taxi to the airport. "The taxi!" I tug my sweater over my head and look up to find myself standing across from a mirror.A mirror St. Clair is facing."It's all right," he says. "I told the driver to wait when I came up here. We'll just have to tip him a little extra." His head is still down. I don't think he saw anything.I clear my throat, and he glances up. Our eyes meet in the mirror,and he jumps. "God! I didn't...I mean,not until just now...""Cool.Yeah,fine." I try to shake it off by looking away,and he does the same. His cheeks are blazing.I edge past him and rinse the white crust off my face while he throws my toothbrush and deodorant and makeup into my luggage, and then we tear downstairs and into the lobby.”

“Anna? Anna,are you there? I've been waiting in the lobby for fifteen minutes." A scrambling noise,and St. Clair curses from the floorboards. "And I see your light's off.Brilliant. Could've mentioned you'd decided to go on without me."I explode out of bed. I overslept! I can't believe I overslept! How could this happen?St. Clair's boots clomp away,and his suitcase drags heavily behind him. I throw open my door. Even though they're dimmed this time of night,the crystal sconces in the hall make me blink and shade my eyes.St. Clair twists into focus.He's stunned. "Anna?""Help," I gasp. "Help me."He drops his suitcase and runs to me. "Are you all right? What happened?"I pull him in and flick on my light. The room is illuminated in its disheveled entirety. My luggage with its zippers open and clothes piled on top like acrobats. Toiletries scattered around my sink. Bedsheets twined into ropes. And me. Belatedly, I remember that not only is my hair crazy and my face smeared with zit cream,but I'm also wearing matching flannel Batman pajamas."No way." He's gleeful. "You slept in? I woke you up?"I fall to the floor and frantically squish clothes into my suitcase."You haven't packed yet?""I was gonna finish this morning! WOULD YOU FREAKING HELP ALREADY?" I tug on a zipper.It catches a yellow Bat symbol, and I scream in frustration.We're going to miss our flight. We're going to iss it,and it's my fault. And who knows when the next plane will leave, and we'll be stuck here all day, and I'll never make it in time for Bridge and Toph's show. And St. Clair's mom will cry when she has to go to the hospital without him for her first round of internal radiation, because he'll be stuck iin an airport on the other side of the world,and its ALL. MY FAULT."Okay,okay." He takes the zipper and wiggles it from my pajama bottoms. I make a strange sound between a moan and a squeal. The suitcase finally lets go, and St. Clair rests his arms on my shoulders to steady them. "Get dressed. Wipe your face off.I'll takecare of the rest."Yes,one thing at a time.I can do this. I can do this.ARRRGH!He packs my clothes. Don't think about him touching your underwear. Do NOT think about him touching your underwear. I grab my travel outfit-thankfully laid out the night before-and freeze. "Um."St. Clair looks up and sees me holding my jeans. He sputters. "I'll, I'll step out-""Turn around.Just turn around, there's not time!"He quickly turns,and his shoulders hunch low over my suitcase to prove by posture how hard he is Not Looking.”

“Is that...the Looney Tunes theme?"Mer and St. Clair cock their ears."Why,yes.I believe it is," St. Clair says."I heard 'Love Shack' a few minutes ago," Mer says."It's official," I say. "America has finally ruined France.""So can we go now?" St. Clair holds up a small bag. "I'm done.""Ooo,what'd you get?" Mer asks. She takes his bag and pulls out a delicate, shimmery scarf. "Is it for Ellie?""Shite."Mer pauses. "You didn't get anything for Ellie?""No,it's for Mum.Arrrgh." He rakes a hand through his hair. "Would you mind if we pop over to Sennelier before we go home?" Sennelier is a gorgeous little art supply sore,the kind that makes me wish I had an excuse to buy oil paints and pastels. Mer and I went with Rashmi last weekend. She bought Josh a new sketchbook for Hanukkah."Wow.Congratulations,St. Clair," I say. "Winner of today's Sucky Boyfriend award.And I thought Steve was bad-did you see what happened in calc?""You mean when Amanda caught him dirty-texting Nicole?" Mer asks. "I thought she was gonna stab him in the neck with her pencil.""I've been busy," St. Clair says.I glance at him. "I was just teasing.""Well,you don't have to be such a bloody git about it.""I wasn't being a git. I wasnt even being a twat, or a wanker, or any of your other bleeding Briticisms-""Piss off." He snatches his bag back from Mer and scowls at me."HEY!" Mer says. "It's Christmas. Ho-ho-ho. Deck the halls. Stop fighting.""We weren't fighting," he and I say together.She shakes her head. "Come on,St. Clair's right. Let's get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.""I think it's pretty," I say. "Besides, I'd rather look at ribbons than dead rabbits.""Not the hares again," St. Clair says. "You're as bad as Rashmi."We wrestle through the Christmas crowds. "I can see why she was upset! The way they're hung up,like they'd died of nosebleeds. It's horrible. Poor Isis." All of the shops in Paris have outdone themselves with elaborate window displays,and the butcher is no exception. I pass the dead bunnies every time I go to the movies."In case you hadn't noticed," he says. "Isis is perfectly alive and well on the sixth floor.”

“Do I need to check up on you guys later? You know the rules.No sleeping in opposite-sex rooms."My face flames,and St. Clair's cheeks grow blotchy. It's true.It's a rule. One that my brain-my rule-loving, rule-abiding brain-conveniently blocked last night. It's also one notoriously ignored by the staff."No,Nate," we say.He shakes his shaved head and goes back in his apartment. But the door opens quickly again,and a handful of something is thrown at us before it's slammed back shut.Condoms.Oh my God, how humiliating.St. Clair's entire face is now bright red as he picks the tiny silver squares off the floor and stuffs them into his coat pockets. We don't speak,don't even look at each other,as we climb the stairs to my floor. My pulse quickens with each step.Will he follow me to my room,or has Nate ruined any chance of that?We reach the landing,and St. Clair scratches his head. "Er...""So...""I'm going to get dressed for bed. Is that all right?" His voice is serious,and he watches my reaction carefully."Yeah.Me too.I'm going to...get ready for bed,too.""See you in a minute?"I swell with relief. "Up there or down here?""Trust me,you don't want to sleep in my bed." He laughs,and I have to turn my face away,because I do,holy crap do I ever. But I know what he means.It's true my bed is cleaner. I hurry to my room and throw on the strawberry pajamas and an Atlanta Film Festival shirt. It's not like I plan on seducing him.Like I'd even know how. St. Clair knocks a few minutes later, and he's wearing his white bottoms with the blue stripes again and a black T-shirt with a logo I recognize as the French band he was listening to earlier. I'm having trouble breathing."Room service," he says.My mind goes...blank. "Ha ha," I say weakly.He smiles and turns off the light. We climb into bed,and it's absolutely positively completely awkward. As usual. I roll over to my edge of the bed. Both of us are stiff and straight, careful not to touch the other person. I must be a masochist to keep putting myself in these situations. I need help. I need to see a shrink or be locked in a padded cell or straitjacketed or something.After what feels like an eternity,St. Clair exhales loudly and shifts. His leg bumps into mine, and I flinch. "Sorry," he says."It's okay.""...""...""Anna?""Yeah?""Thanks for letting me sleep here again. Last night..."The pressure inside my chest is torturous. What? What what what?"I haven't slept that well in ages."The room is silent.After a moment, I roll back over. I slowly, slowly stretch out my leg until my foot brushes his ankle. His intake of breath is sharp. And then I smile,because I know he can't see my expression through the darkness.”

“Your grandparents are English?""Grandfather is,but Grandmere is French. And my other grandparents are American,of course.""Wow.You really are a mutt."St. Clair smiles. "I'm told I take after my English grandfather the most, but it's only because of the accent.""I don't know.I think of you as more English than anything else.And you don't just sound like it,you look like it,too.""I do?" He surprised.I smile. "Yeah,it's that...pasty complexion. I mean it in the best possible way," I add,at his alarmed expression. "Honestly.""Huh." St. Clair looks at me sideways. "Anyway.Last summer I couldn't bear to face my father, so it was the first time I spent the whole holiday with me mum.""And how was it? I bet the girls don't tease you about your accent anymore."He laughs. "No,they don't.But I can't help my height.I'll always be short.""And I'll always be a freak,just like my dad. Everyone tells me I take after him.He's sort of...neat,like me."He seems genuinely surprised. "What's wrong with being neat? I wish I were more organized.And,Anna,I've never met your father,but I guarantee you that you're nothing like him.""How would you know?""Well,for one thing,he looks like a Ken doll.And you're beautiful."I trip and fall down on the sidewalk."Are you all right?" His eyes fill with worry.I look away as he takes my hand and helps me up. "I'm fine.Fine!" I say, brushing the grit from my palms. Oh my God, I AM a freak."You've seen the way men look at you,right?" he continues."If they're looking, it's because I keep making a fool of myself." I hold up my scraped hands."That guy over there is checking you out right now.""Wha-?" I turn to find a young man with long dark hair staring. "Why is he looking at me?""I expect he likes what he sees."I flush,and he keeps talking. "In Paris, it's common to acknowledge someone attractive.The French don't avert their gaze like other cultures do. Haven't you noticed?"St. Clair thinks I'm attractive. He called me beautiful."Um,no," I say. "I hadn't noticed.""Well.Open your eyes."But I stare at the bare tree branches, at the children with balloons, at the Japanese tour group. Anywhere but at him. We've stopped in front of Notre-Dame again.I point at the familiar star and clear my throat. "Wanna make another wish?""You go first." He's watching me, puzzled, like he's trying to figure something out. He bites his thumbnail.This time I can't help it.All day long, I've thought about it.Him.Our secret.I wish St. Clair would spend the night again.”

“Did I ever tell you I went to school in America?""What? No.""It's true,for a year. Eighth grade. It was terrible.""Eighth grade is terrible for everyone," I say."Well,it was worse for me. My parents had just seperated,and my mum moved back to California.I hadn't been since I was an infant,but I went with her,and I was put in this horrid public school-""Oh,no. Public school."He nudges me with his shoulder. "The other kids were ruthless. They made fun of everything about me-my height,my accent, the way I dressed.I vowed I'd never go back.""But American girls love English accents." I blurt this without thinking, and then pray he doesn't notice my blush.St. Clair picks up a pebble and tosses it into the river. "Not in middle school, they don't.Especially when it's attached to a bloke who comes up to their kneecaps."I laugh."So when the year was over,my parents found a new school for me. I wanted to go back to London,where my mates were, but my father insisted on Paris so he could keep an eye on me. And that's how I would up at the School of America.”

“I stay in bed for as long as possible, but eventually my bladder wins. When I come back from the bathroom, he's looking out my window. He turns around and laughs. "Your hair. It's sticking up in all different directions." St. Clair pronounces it die-rections and illustrates his point by poking his fingers up around his head like antlers."You're one to speak.""Ah,but it looks purposeful on me. Took me ages to realize the best way to get that mussed look was to ignore it completely.""So you're saying it looks like crap on me?" I glance in the mirror,and I'm alarmed to discover I do resemble a horned beast."No.I like it.”

“The wind rattles the panes, and the lights buzz softly in the hall. He sleeps soundly.How long has it been since he's had a decent night's rest? There's another uncomfortable tug on my heart.Why do I care so much about him,and why do I wish I didn't? How can one person make me so confused all of the time?What is that? Is it lust? Or something else altogether? And is it even possible for me to feel this way about him without these feelings being reciprocated? He said that he liked me. He did.And even though he was drunk, he wouldn't have said it if there wasn't at least some truth to it. Right?I don't know.Like every time I'm with him,I don't know anything.He scoots closer to me in his sleep. His breath is warm against my neck.I don't know anything. He's so beautiful, so perfect. I wonder if he...if I...A ray of light glares into my eyes, and I squint,disoriented. Daylight. The red numbers on my clock read 11:27. Huh. Did I mean to sleep in? What day is it? And then I see the body in bed next to me.And I nearly jump out of my skin.So it wasn't a dream.His mouth is parted,and the sheets are kicked off.One of his hands rests on his stomach.His shirt has hiked up,and I can see his abdomen.My gaze is transfixed.Holy crap.I just slept with St. Clair.”

“She's probably just tired of seeing you miserable.Like we all are," I add. "I'm sure...I'm sure she's as crazy about you as ever.""Hmm." He watches me put away my own shoes and empty the contents of my pockets. "What about you?" he asks, after a minute."What about me?"St. Clair examines his watch. "Sideburns. You'll be seeing him next month."He's reestablishing...what? The boundary line? That he's taken, and I'm spoken for? Except I'm not. Not really.But I can't bear to say this now that he's mentioned Ellie. "Yeah,I can't wait to see him again. He's a funny guy, you'd like him.I'm gonna see his band play at Christmas. Toph's a great guy, you'd really like him. Oh. I already said that,didn't I? But you would. He's really...funny."Shut up,Anna. Shut.Up.St. Clair unbuckles and rebuckles and unbuckles his watchband."I'm beat," I say. And it's the truth. As always, our conversation has exhausted me. I crawl into bed and wonder what he'll do.Lie on my floor? Go back to his room? But he places his watch on my desk and climbs onto my bed. He slides up next to me. He's on top of the covers, and I'm underneath. We're still fully dressed,minus our shoes, and the whole situation is beyond awkward.He hops up.I'm sure he's about to leave,and I don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed,but...he flips off my light.My room is pitch-black. He shuffles back toward my bed and smacks into it."Oof," he says."Hey,there's a bed there.""Thanks for the warning.""No problem.""It's freezing in here.Do you have a fan on or something?""It's the wind.My window won't shut all the way.I have a towel stuffed under it, but it doesn't really help."He pats his way around the bed and slides back in. "Ow," he says."Yes?""My belt.Would it be weird..."I'm thankful he can't see my blush. "Of course not." And I listen to the slap of leather as he pulls it out of his belt loops.He lays it gently on my hardwood floor."Um," he says. "Would it be weird-""Yes.""Oh,piss off.I'm not talking trousers. I only want under the blankets. That breeze is horrible." He slides underneath,and now we're lying side by side. In my narrow bed. Funny,but I never imagined my first sleepover with a guy being,well,a sleepover."All we need now are Sixteen Candles and a game of Truth or Dare."He coughs. "Wh-what?""The movie,pervert.I was just thinking it's been a while since I've had a sleepover."A pause. "Oh.""...""...""St. Clair?""Yeah?""Your elbow is murdering my back.""Bollocks.Sorry." He shifts,and then shifts again,and then again,until we're comfortable.One of his legs rests against mine.Despite the two layers of pants between us,I feel naked and vulnerable. He shifts again and now my entire leg, from calf to thigh, rests against his. I smell his hair. Mmm.NO!I swallow,and it's so loud.He coughs again. I'm trying not to squirm. After what feels like hours but is surely only minutes,his breath slows and his body relaxes.I finally begin to relax, too. I want to memorize his scent and the touch of his skin-one of his arms, now against mine-and the solidness os his body.No matter what happens,I'll remember this for the rest of my life.I study his profile.His lips,his nose, his eyelashes.He's so beautiful.”

“I think we're the only ones in the building," he says."Then no one will mind when I do this!" I jump onto the desk and parade back and forth. St. Clair belts out a song, and I shimmy to the sound of his voice. When he finishes,I bow with a grand flourish."Quick!" he says."What?" I hop off the desk. Is Nate here? Did he see?But St. Clair runs to the stairwell. He throws open the door and screams. The ehco makes us both jump, and then together we scream again at the top of our lungs. It's exhilarating. St. Clair chases me to the elevator,and we ride it to the rooftop. He hangs back but laughs as I spit off the side, trying to hit a lingerie advertisement. The wind is fierce,and my aim is off,so I race back down two flights of stairs. Our staircase is wide and steady, so he's only a few feet behind me. We reach his floor."Well," he says. Our conversation halts for the first time in hours.I look past him. "Um.Good night.""See you tomorrow? Late breakfast at the creperie?""That'd be nice.""Unless-" he cuts himself off.Unless what? He's hesitant, changed his mind. The moment passes. I give him one more questioning look, but he turns away."Okay." It's hard to keep the disappointment out of my voice. "See you in the morning." I take the steps down and glance back.He's staring at me. I lift my hand and wave. He's oddly statuesque. I push through the door to my floor,shaking my head. I don't understand why things always go from perfect to weird with us. It's like we're incapable of normal human interaction. Forget about it,Anna.The stairwell door bursts open.My heart stops.St. Clair looks nervous. "It's been a good day. This was the first good day I've had in ages." He walks slowly toward me. "I don't want it to end. I don't want to be alone right now.""Uh." I can't breathe.He stops before me,scanning my face. "Would it be okay if I stayed with you? I don't want to make you uncomfortable-""No! I mean..." My head swims. I can hardly think straight. "Yes. Yes, of course,it's okay."St. Clair is still for a moment. And then he nods.I pull off my necklace and insert my key into the lock. He waits behind me. My hand shakes as I open the door.”

“Emily Zola.That's only the second woman I've seen down here. What's up with that?"But before St. Clair can answer, the grating voice says, "It's Emile." We turn around to find a smug guy in a Euro Disney sweatshirt. "Emile Zola is a man."My face burns. I reach for St. Clair's arm to pull us away again,but St. Clair is already in his face. "Emile Zola was a man," he corrects. "And you're an arse. Why don't you mind your own bloody business and leave her alone!”

“Anna?""Yeah?"He pauses. "Never mind.""What?""Nothing."But his tone is definitely not nothing. I turn to him, and his eyes are closed. His skin is pale and tired. "What?" I ask again,sitting up. St. Clair opens his eyes, noticing I've moved. He struggles,trying to sit up, too, and I help him. When I pull away, he clutches my hand to stop me."I like you," he says.My body is rigid."And I don't mean as a friend."It feels like I'm swallowing my tongue. "Uh. Um. What about-?" I pull my hand away from his. The weight of her name hangs heavy and unspoken."It's not right.It hasn't been right, not since I met you." His eyes close again,and his body sways.He's drunk. He's just drunk.Calm down,Anna. He's drunk, and he's going through a crisis. There is NO WAY he knows what he's talking about right now. So what do I do? Oh my God, what am I supposed to do?"Do you like me?" St. Clair asks. And he looks at me with those big brown eyes-which,okay,are a bit red from the drinking and maybe from some crying-and my heart breaks.Yes,St. Clair.I like you.But I can't say it out loud, because he's my friend. And friends don't let other friends make drunken declarations and expect them to act upon them the next day.Then again...it's St. Clair. Beautiful, perfect,wonderful-And great.That's just great.He threw up on me.”

“I'm fine.My father's an arse, and my mum is dying and-oh my God,I'm so pissed." St. Clair looked at me again. His eyes were glassy like black marbles. "Pissed.Pissed.Pissed.""We know you're pissed at your dad," I said. "It's okay. You're right, he's a jerk." I mean what was I supposed to say? He just found out his mother has cancer."Pissed is British for 'drunk,'" Mer said."Oh," I said. "Well. You're definitely that, too."Meanwhile,The Couple was fighting. "Where have you been?" Rashmi asked. "You said you'd be home three hours ago!"Josh rolled his eyes. "Out.We've been out. Someone had to help him-""And you call that helping? He's completely wasted. Catatonic. And you! God,you smell like car exhaust and armpits-""He couldn't drink alone.""You were supposed to be watching out for him! What if something happened?""Beer. Liquor. Thatsswhat happened. Don't be such a prude,Rash.”

“Victor Noir. He was a journalist shot by Pierre Bonaparte," St. Clair says, as if that explains anything. He pulls The Hat up off his eyes. "The statue on his grave is supposed to help...fertility.""His wang us rubbed shiny," Josh elaborates. "For luck.""Why are we talking about parts again?" Mer asks. "Can't we ever talk about anything else?""Really?" I ask. "Shiny wang?""Very," St. Clair says. "Now that's something I've gotta see." I gulp my coffee dregs, wipe the bread crumbs from my mouth, and hop up. "Where's Victor?""Allow me." St. Clair springs up to his feet and takes off. I chase after him. He cuts through a stand of bare trees, and I crash through the twigs behind him. We're both laughing when we hit the pathway and run smack into a guard. He frowns at us from underneath his military-style cap. St. Clair gives an angelic smile and a small shrug. The guard shakes his head but allows us to pass.St. Clair gets away with everything.We stroll with exaggerated calm, and he points out an area occupied with people snapping pictures.We hang back and wait our turn. A scrawny black cat darts out from behind an altar strewn with roses and wine bottles,and rushes into the bushes."Well.That was sufficiently creepy. Happy Halloween.""Did you know this place is home to three thousand cats?" St. Clair asks."Sure.It's filed away in my brain under 'Felines,Paris.”

“I chuck my bag into his lap,perhaps a little too hard.St. Clair oofs and jerks forward."Watch it." Josh bites into a pink apple and talks through a full moouth. "He has parts down there you don't have.""Ooo,parts," I say. "Intriguing. Tell me more."Josh smiles sadly. "Sorry. Privelged information.Only people with parts can know about said parts."St. Clair shakes the rest of the leaves from his hair and puts on The Hat. Rashmi makes a face at him. "Really? Today? In public?" she asks."Every day," he says. "As long as you're with me.”

“You know more useless crap, St. Clair. Good thing you're so darn cute," Josh says.St. Clair smiles. "At least 'cemetary' sounds classier. And you must admit-this place is pretty classy. Or,I'm sorry." He turns back to me. "Would you rather be at the Lambert bash? I hear Dave Higgenbottom is bringing his beer bong.""Higgenbaum.""That's what I said. Higgenbum.""Oh,leave him alone.Besides, by the time this place closes, we'll still have plenty of time to party." I roll my eyes at this last word.None of us have plans to attend,despite what I told Dave yesterday at lunch.St. Clair nudges me with a tall thermos. "Perhaps you're upset because he won't have the opportunity to woo you with his astonishing knowledge of urban street racing."I laugh. "Cut it out.""And I hear he has exquisite taste in film. Maybe he'll take you to a midnight showing of Scooby-Doo 2."I whack St. Clair with my bag, and he dodges aside,laughing.”