(Please excuse this Prologue. I wrote this early part in 8th grade, so some of it is not really all that great. I promise that it gets a LOT more interesting the next chapter, so please hang on!)

Prologue: The Things We Say

It was a clear, fall day. Unmistakable leaves of autumn of autumn drifted down. But everyone was too busy to notice them.

“Hey Caroline,” I screamed. “Wait up!”

Caroline’s short, raven hair was put out of view by a swift turn of her head. Being of middle height, she couldn’t spot me calling her in the dense jungle of mingling students.

Finally locating me by the lone oak tree that stood in quiet vigil by our school’s perimeter, she approached me with a nonchalant ‘hello’。

“Hey Hannah…” she began wistfully after we performed our traditional best friends greeting, (which involved our two hands forming a heart together), “You wouldn’t mind, you know, keeping a secret, would you?”

Sensing an important break through in the Barrier Impenetrable: Caroline’s relenting lips, I eagerly leaned forward slightly to show that I was interested.

“Of course!” I answered, placing my hand over my heart in mock solemnity. “I, Hannah Forest, swear on my miserable life not to utter a single word of what my BFFFFFFFFFFF!, Caroline Welch, is about to tell me.” Sneaking a glance slyly at Caroline, I could see her exerting her relieved breath. “Satisfied?”

She nodded in affirmation. “Good that you agreed, Mrs. Blabber Mouth.” She glanced around the almost deserted courtyard before continuing, “I’ve decided who I liked.”

“As long as I know who Mr. Blabber Mouth is…” I mutter in yet another one of my unsuccessful jokes. Then I suddenly register what Caroline said. “Eeee!” I squeal. It’s my thing, really. The squeaks and squeals you can sporadically hear at our school are mostly emitted by me. Squeals are my trademark thang . I do it whenever I’m excited happy, or just downright hyper.

“This is great!” I blabber, “the Ice Queen finally melts a little! Will this thaw right down to her heart? But what will THAT reveal? Would all that anxious anticipation just come down to reveal a metal heart? Find out, in the next episode ooooffff…” I do a smart little drum roll on her head. “…Caroline, Ice Queen of Stone Trail High!”

Rolling her eyes heaven ward, she says, “Oh, stop with the drama. Besides…” she adds slightly, “I think I’m changing my mind…”

“No!” I plead. “I won’t tell a soul, really. Anyhow, it’s about time I could evaluate your taste. I mean, the last time I got to make fun of you, woops! Did I just say that out loud?” I smirk, “the last time you liked someone was in ELEMENTARY school. Caroline, count!” I pry her fingers open and tick off all the years from 4th grade to 10th grade. “Six years! Six whole years of agony on my part, never ceasing to rest in hopes of uncovering who you had feelings for!” The oxygen debt in my brain from speaking so fast and fervently caught up with me. “So who do you like?”

She shifted her tote bag higher up on her shoulders, scouring the yard to see if any stragglers might hear our conversation.

“He’d better be REALLY cute, or deserving of your love!” Don’t tell me…I know that I sound like a movie producer’s worst nightmare. Oh well. It’s not like I’m aspiring to be an anorexic actress! I mean, pshaw, with my brains and wit, well, I’ll be durned if Harvard doesn’t take me. Ok, back to the story.

“Well, you know, I know you’d prefer me as your first choice, babe, but you know, I’m taken.”

She shakes her head, shooting a disapproving look at me. “As you always say,” she puts on a cheery little face (meant to represent me, I suppose. Ick, I mean, I admit that I’m bad at acting, but…she’s just horrible! Horriblé!)“ ‘It’s so unfair that you can always judge me and my brief quote un-quote love affairs. Why don’t you go and have a clandestine rendezvous with someone soon?’”

Mind you, she did this little skit with flailly little hand motions and dramatic facial expression. Come on, I don’t act like that. Not that often, anyways.

Strolling to the bike racks, she softly rubbed the friendship bracelet that I gave her a long time ago. 5th grade, I think? Yep, the day she got over Gray. She hadn’t taken it off since that day, ignoring the fact that the outlandishly colored necklace had always clashed with her choice of dim clothing.

Caroline turned to look at me. “Well, he’s someone you have surely GOT to know. I mean, he practically lives next door to you.”

I grow pale. (A very hard feat, considering my millions of summer’s worth of tans). “Not Zan? Please tell me it’s not Zan Trapp?”