“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”

“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!”

“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.”

“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.”

“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 Nana 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 here. I've just spent two hours with her." I announce this proudly like my little brother, Seany, whenever he finds something disgusting in the yard. "I'm Anna! I'm new here!" Oh, [Gosh]. 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. "Étienne," 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.”

“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.”

“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.”