Chapter Three

Fourteen Years Old.

First crush.

That’s what they call it.

Now I’m starting to understand why.

It feels like I’m crashing into the ocean.

Not cannonballing either. More like slamming into it horizontally. You know, when breaking the surface feels like hitting concrete.

It hurts like a bitch.

Hurts to look at his brown eyes. The way they zing when our stares meet across the hallway or in class.

Hurts when he lets out a laugh, and I feel it rattling my bones, and then I feel his happiness spreading in my body, warm and sticky, like it’s honey.

Hurts when I see other girls talk to him, and I just want to grab them by the shoulders and SCREAM that he is mine. Because he is. That’s why he saves those smiles and looks and cocked eyebrows just for me.

I don’t know if it’s normal to feel this way. Like this one guy holds the key to my moods.

The weird part is … this is so not me. I’m not boy crazy. I’m more like … I don’t know, a crazy boy.

A tomboy. A scallywag. Always up to no good. Pulling pranks, climbing trees, begging Mom to let me stay out and play a few more minutes before dinner. This is my first encounter with feelings that have nothing to do with my family.

I’ve never had a crush before. So I can’t tell if it’s okay to feel this way. Like he is carrying my heart in his pocket.

One thing is for sure.

Ninth grade is going to be a long year.

Because the person I’m crushing on?

Well, it’s Mr. Locken, my coach.