“It was around the time of the divorce that all traces of decency vanished, and his dream of being the next great Southern writer was replaced by his desire to be the next published writer. So he started writing these novels set in Small Town Georgia about folks with Good American Values who Fall in Love and then contract Life-Threatening Diseases and Die.I'm serious.And it totally depresses me, but the ladies eat it up. They love my father's books and they love his cable-knit sweaters and they love his bleachy smile and orangey tan. And they have turned him into a bestseller and a total dick.Two of his books have been made into movies and three more are in production, which is where his real money comes from. Hollywood. And, somehow, this extra cash and pseudo-prestige have warped his brain into thinking that I should live in France. For a year.Alone.I don't understand why he couldn't send me to Australia or Ireland or anywhere else where English is the native language.The only French word I know is oui, which means "yes," and only recently did I learn it's spelled o-u-i and not w-e-e.At least the people in my new school speak English.It was founded for pretentious Americans who don't like the company of their own children. I mean, really. Who sends their kid to boarding school? It's so Hogwarts. Only mine doesn't have cute boy wizards or magic candy or flying lessons.Instead,I'm stuck with ninety-nine other students. There are twenty-five people in my entire senior class, as opposed to the six hundred I had back in Atlanta. And I'm studying the same things I studied at Clairemont High except now I'm registered in beginning French.Oh,yeah.Beginning French. No doubt with the freshman.I totally rock.”

“And it totally depresses me, but the ladies eat it up. They love my father's books and they love his cable-knit sweaters and they love his bleachy smile and orangey tan. And they have turned him into a bestseller and a total dick.”

“I mean, really. Who sends their kid to boarding school? It's so Hogwarts. Only mine doesn't have cute boy wizards or magic candy or flying lessons.”

“The only French word I know is oui, which means “yes,” and only recently did I learn it’s spelled o-​u-​i and not w-​e-​e.”

“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.”

“See you at breakfast?""Yeah.See ya." I try to say this casually,but I'm so thrilled that I skip from her room and promptly slam into a wall.Whoops.Not a wall.A boy."Oof." He staggers backward."Sorry! I'm so sorry,I didn't know you were there."He shakes his head,a little dazed. The first thing I notice is his hair-it's the first thing I notice about everyone. It's dark brown and messy and somehow both long and short at the same time. I think of the Beatles,since I've just seen them in Meredith's room. It's artist hair.Musician hair. I-pretend-I-don't-care-but-I-really-do-hair.Beautiful hair."It's okay,I didn't see you either. Are you all right,then?"Oh my.He's English."Er.Does Mer live here?"Seriously,I don't know any American girl who can resist an English accent.The boy clears his throat. "Meredith Chevalier? Tall girl? Big,curly hair?" Then he looks at me like I'm crazy or half deaf,like my Nanna Oliphant. Nanna just smiles and shakes her head whenever I ask, "What kind of salad dressing would you like?" or "Where did you put Granddad's false teeth?""I'm sorry." He takes the smallest step away from me. "You were going to bed.""Yes! Meredith lives there.I've just spent two hours with her." I announce this proudly like my brother, Seany, whenever he finds something disgusting in the yard. "I'm Anna! I'm new here!" Oh God. What.Is with.The scary enthusiasm? My cheeks catch fire, and it's all so humiliating.The beautiful boy gives an amused grin. His teeth are lovely-straight on top and crooked on the bottom,with a touch of overbite. I'm a sucker for smiles like this,due to my own lack of orthodontia. I have a gap between my front teeth the size of a raisin."Etienne," he says. "I live one floor up.""I live here." I point dumbly at my room while my mind whirs: French name, English accent, American school. Anna confused.He raps twice on Meredith's door. "Well. I'll see you around then, Anna."Eh-t-yen says my name like this: Ah-na.My heart thump thump thumps in my chest.”

“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.”