Prologue

If you asked Cammie what she thought about dating a starving-artist-college-dropout with so much emotional baggage it wouldn’t fit into the matched luggage she picked up at that little sample sale in Paris, she would’ve laughed in your face. She would’ve said it was like Jackie realizing she loved Fez on That 70's Show. Jackie deserved someone in her league, and Fez should’ve gone back to South America with the weird British kid and the fat girl.

If you had told Cammie that she would stop talking (and not just because she lost her voice) to listen to someone pour out their soul, she would’ve scoffed and shared the latest gossip (followed by hasty protests that she wasn’t really a gossip, she just thought you really needed to know that Tommy’s mother (Tommy being her best friend’s ex-boyfriend) had spent the last few nights in prison). If you had told her that she might actually like someone who wasn’t just going to fall at her perfectly-pedicured feet...

If you told Cammie that she might one day think someone deserved better than she, she would probably slap you across the face, toss her head of chestnut-colored ringlets, and stomp away.

Cameron Angelica Todds could stay thin simply by talking. Especially when she talked about going to the gym, because that was practically the same as actually going. Or something like that. Cammie knew everything about everyone, generally before they knew it themselves, and she made sure everyone else knew it, too.

But it was a Sunday morning in October that changed everything. It was the perfect kind of morning for it, had she been paying attention; the kind of morning that actually felt “crisp” and fresh and promised new beginnings. Like most big life-changes for teenage girls, hers started with a boy and her 11:14 cup of coffee.

...

If you had asked Alec what he thought about girls who count calories and own matched luggage, he would have pretended to vomit. If you had asked him what he thought about girls who hated soy milk and loved hazelnut gelato (but only if someone else bought it and told her it was sorbet), he would’ve made a rude comment about their mother’s intelligence and their father’s... grandeur.

But if you asked Alec about the day he met Cammie, he would be able to tell you in detail.

He was sitting there, innocently drinking a soy misto in the hopes that some thread of inspiration might waft out of it and take hold of his hand, guiding it over the page. He was not thinking about Michelle.

But this sound started. This annoying, high-pitched squealing that he couldn’t block out. So he tore his gaze away from the miserably blank page, and saw that it was just another teenage girl.

“That’s silly.” She said, loudly and slowly. “No offense, Summer, but your opinions aren’t that interesting. There has to be a reason that he hangs onto every word you say.”

Okay, then tell her what it is so we can all get on with our lives.

“He frigging, like, crazy-crazy-likes you, dummy!”

There you go, Summer. Now hang up on her, and she’ll pay for her coffee and leave.

“That girl was seriously toned. I think she would’ve killed him if he turned her down. And it was only once. You two have been best friends since forever. You two need to both get your heads out of your butts, breathe in some fresh, sunny air–”

Is it really necessary to put milk in?

“And,” She continued, clearly undeterred by whatever points her friend was trying to make (and gesticulating wildly enough that she knocked the old-fashioned bowler hat off the man behind her), “stop being so dumb. I honestly expected more from you. I mean, Trey’s a complete dunce, so I wouldn’t think he’d notice, but I won’t go into that for your sake and all. But you’re actually kind of almost really super smart, so the fact that you’re such an idiot about this is kind of annoying. I could totally see you two winding up on your deathbeds before getting down from this stupid pride thing and admitting your feelings to each other and having little white-Asian babies. Every half-Asian person I know is so gorgeous. I mean, Leo? Such a cutie, don’tcha think? Actually, Leo’s friends with Sam, who’s friends with that weird redhead, who’s friends with Trey, so we might be able to get him to admit something through the various channels of communication.”

Did she actually fit that all into twenty seconds?

A pregnant pause hung in the air, during which all of the more dignified patrons of Crack Coffee held their breath, hoping that the epidemic known as Teenage Girl Syndrome would pass them by.

“Summer? Summer! Answer me. I don’t care if your phone is dead or whatever other problems might be plaguing you but– oh shit, my phone’s dead.” She finished in an undertone, and they all breathed more freely. That must be it, they thought.

Alec turned back to the blank page. Mostly blank, at least, there were a few marks from where he had been tapping the not-quite-clean eraser. He jumped as a neon polka-dotted purse fell on the table in front of him, then looked up, slowly. Nervously.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” The girl was asking him. Her eyes looked big and sad and just like–

He sighed, and grunted his consent.

A smile broke out across her face, big and bright and too loud for the jazz music drifting lazily through the place. It was overpowering. She must be letting off some weird, radioactive... something, he figured.

“Good. I just... I really need to get this stuff off my chest. It’s been bugging me for, like, hours.” She collapses into the chair across from Alec, and an older couple at the table beside him both huff in annoyance as they protectively clutch their teas to their chests and leave. She was silent, for several moments, then burst out: “It’s just that they’re so blind! I mean, if someone just fell into my lap, and always let me copy all of his homework, and always partnered with me on projects, and always threatened anyone I liked, and...”

(12:06) Alec had filled one page with doodles of bunnies.

“... so I just said, ‘Chris, you’re being an idiot, stop it.’ and he totally stopped, but then Lara, like, lost it, and went all, ‘Cammie, you’re really overstepping social boundaries and crap,’ and I was just...”

(12:37) Alec had filled two more pages with sketches of pianos and anvils falling on the girl’s head.

“... but I was in the right, you know? I mean, if someone gives that kind of assignment, you have to assume that groups will divide up work in different ways, and this is the way we chose to divide it, so Karen was all, ‘take a chill pill,’ and...”

(1:18) Alec had calculated his budget for the next two years, factoring in inflation.

“And that totally explains why Trey is completely wrong for Summer, so of course she’s crazy about him. It’s so typical. Boring, right?” She smiled, and took another sip of her latte. Alec just looked at her blankly, one eyebrow raised.

“What?” She said, clearly confused.

“Are you done?” He asked, rubbing a hand over his eyes and leaving little graphite smudges on his eyelids.

She blushed. It was hard to tell against her tan skin, but she was certainly pinker than she had been a moment before. “I’m sorry.” She said. “I haven’t let you get a word in edgewise. What’s the point of talking to someone if you don’t listen to their opinions, hm? Oh, sorry, I’m Cammie.”

“Uh.” Alec’s mind raced. He had no idea what she’d been blathering on about for the past... two hours?! “I’m Alec.”

“That’s nice.” Cammie said, encouragingly, waiting for more. He looked around for inspiration, then decided on the old standby.

“I completely agree with everything you said.”

Cammie laughed. “Good! I knew I was right. You’re a really good listener, you know.”

Alec blinked in surprise. “Really? I’ve never, uh, been that good at playing therapist to anyone.”

“Well, I didn’t want a therapist, silly. I just wanted someone’s professional opinion on a sticky situation. My friends’ relationship.” She elaborated, as he continued looking at her expressionlessly. Then she leaned forward, and whispered, “Strictly confidential?”

He nodded, trying to keep that pesky right eyebrow from popping up. Truth be told, it wouldn’t have mattered; she couldn’t see his eyebrows through his shaggy, dark hair.

“I might still be a little drunk from last night. Don’t tell anyone, Soy Misto. See you later!”

And with a flash of her purse and her hair and her shimmery shoes, she was gone.

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