Prologue

Prologue

There were so many things that eleven-year-old Taryn Ross loved about summer. The manner in which the sunset mixed its colors and sent them out for all to admire. A thick, cold milkshake just out of the blender. The way her skin felt when it touched the cool water from the pool for the first time. But the best thing by far about this particular summer was her babysitter, Charlotte Adler. There was simply no human half as beautiful, cool, or kind. Taryn more than looked up to Charlie, as her friends called her, but actually sat in amazement of her. She was five years older than Taryn with amazing curves, red sunglasses, and the blond hair everyone else seemed to buy but came naturally to Charlie. She also carried raspberry gum in her bag at all times and laughed genuinely at Taryn's attempts to make her smile.

"I get it. You're adorable, but don't fall on your head," Charlie had called in response to Taryn's silly handstand that afternoon. "I think your parents would prefer I return you to them alive." She then checked her phone for incoming texts from her wide array of teenage friends. She probably had a million offers that weekend for who knew what, and Taryn wanted to. From the table on the deck beneath the sun umbrella, Charlie smiled and shook her head at something on her screen. How was she so effortlessly cool but also intelligent and softhearted? Taryn wanted to be every bit like Charlie, but also be her best friend. Complicated. She'd have to settle for Charlie's once or twice a week charge while Taryn concocted new reasons for her parents to have to leave the house more often.

The summer was coming to a close, and the school year would be starting soon. There had been moments during their summer together that were seared into Taryn's memory like a stamp on a passport, the details too important to fade. Today felt like it might become one of them, her senses heightened, the afternoon in full blaze beneath the unforgiving sun. The Popsicle she'd been savoring had melted, leaving a red and blue sticky stream down her wrist. Who even cared when they were having so much fun? The day had been entirely worry free and carried them on its winds. Once she and Charlie bounced happily from the pool in her backyard to the deck, they let the warm air dry the drops of water from their sun-kissed skin. There was laughter, music from the portable speaker Charlie always seemed to carry in her oversized babysitter tote, and snacks like the Popsicles her mother had left them with a note to Enjoy yourselves! It was shaping up to be the best day Taryn had experienced in a long time.

"You might want to take that bracelet off," Charlie said, nodding her head in the direction of Taryn's silver charm bracelet, now under assault from the dripping Popsicle. The bracelet had been a gift from her father on her ninth birthday, and whether or not it was juvenile, she loved it completely because he'd taken the time to pick it out for her. She'd been blessed with wonderful parents who were both funny and warm. Their three-person family was small but tight. So far, Taryn had collected a total of seven charms for her bracelet but had her eye on a four-leaf clover she hadn't quite saved up enough to purchase. She'd been born in March, after all, and claimed anything Irish as her own.

"Oh, man. Thanks," Taryn said, catching the clasp and releasing the bracelet. It slipped easily from her wrist and landed silently on the woven outdoor table. She wasn't much of a jewelry person, but the bracelet was different. It was a way for her to feel like herself, express the parts of what made her unique. She slid a strand of her hair behind her ear. Generally boring and brown, it was currently sun-streaked from three months of pool time, making it one step closer to Charlie's blond.

"Anytime. Want another soda?" Charlie stood between her and the glistening blue water, the towel on her shoulder partially covering the top of her red bikini. She had boobs already. Good ones. Taryn blinked up at the striking image, the way the light offered both highlight and contrast, terms she'd learned in the art course her mother had signed her up for on Wednesdays. Taryn blinked, lost in the captivating sum of all the elements combined. The sky was a swirl of orange, pink, and purple—almost too beautiful to look at, as was Charlie. So much so that she'd forgotten the question. Charlie took a step forward, and the composition dissolved, the blue water appearing again, her silhouette gone. "Taryn, you in there? Do you want something to drink? I could write out the question."

"Water," she said quickly, eyes on the pool, trying to disguise her momentary fixation. Intriguing images had always been fascinating to Taryn. She was drawn in to the mystery, lost in what made things beautiful, even if she wasn't sure how to be a part of the beauty just yet. That was okay. An outsider looking in.

"Are you pool drunk?" Charlotte asked, her lips curling into a grin. As she passed, she placed a hand on Taryn's head affectionately.

"No. Just tired, I think." They'd been swimming for the past two hours, so the response made sense, even if it wasn't the true reason for her distraction.

"We can have dinner on the couch if you want. Frozen pizza."

"And lemonade slushes?" That had her sitting up straight. Charlie had made them slushes the last time she'd been over, and Taryn had never tasted anything so refreshing in her entire life. She'd tried to duplicate the treat on her own but had failed miserably because, well, she wasn't Charlie.

"You're on." Charlie stepped out onto the deck with one foot, mimicked shooting a basket and scoring, and then went back inside. The whole thing left Taryn grinning.

"Best day ever," she called after Charlie. Actually, the day was minutes from slipping into evening, which meant her parents would be home soon along with Charlie's, Ronnie and Deirdre. Ronnie and Taryn's father worked for the same luxury car dealership and had apparently hit it off while shooting the breeze one slow day in the showroom. Until she'd met Charlie, Taryn had argued vehemently that she didn't need a sitter anymore. She'd be going into the sixth grade soon, an age when kids took babysitting jobs themselves. It was frustrating to still be hanging out in the kid section when she was much more mature than her family gave her credit for. Her mother, however, was adamant that Taryn couldn't stay on her own until her twelfth birthday, still seven ridiculously long months away.

"You realize I'm not going to burn the house down, right? I'll watch TV on the couch. Maybe I'll get wild and read a book, which you always encourage me to do. I don't need someone looking over my shoulder."

"Uh-uh." Her mom was not convinced. "None of that matters. It's about my peace of mind. Next year, things will be different. Until then, you're out of luck."

Taryn's whole opinion changed once she'd gotten to know Charlotte Adler. Those protests had died easily on her lips. They had a good time together, and with Charlie, Taryn learned more about the world than she ever had in school. In addition to babysitting, Charlie also lifeguarded at the YMCA, and that pool had always offered Taryn and her friends a front-row view to the older kids' lives and interactions. The teenage boys showed up beneath Charlie's tall chair anytime she was on duty, looking like they'd done about fifty push-ups before walking over. Taryn and her friends would bet on which of the boys Charlie would acknowledge first. As the guys strutted past her chair, Charlie would offer an occasional four-fingered wave without so much as turning her head in their direction. This was a move Taryn had decided to adopt, practicing the still-chin, four-fingered hello in the mirror multiple times a week. Eventually, she'd given up, conceding that she couldn't pull it off. She was no Charlie. But then, who was?

"Come talk to me while I make the pizza," Charlie called from inside. "We can toss a few extra pepperoni on for a hell of a good time."

Taryn didn't have to be asked twice. She quickly gathered her towel and bracelet and scurried inside. Perched on the bar stool across the counter, she tossed the extra pepperoni onto the pizza like tiny frisbees and told Charlie all about her friends, Lara and Alyssa, and how she hoped they'd have lunch together this year, the first time their group would encounter multiple lunch periods.

"I'm going to give you the best piece of advice I've ever received," Charlie said, gesturing with her spatula. "Are you ready?"

"So ready," Taryn said, unable to stop smiling or take her eyes away from Charlie. She was captivated by the way the part in Charlie's blond hair seemed to change effortlessly whichever direction she happened to flip it.

"Don't worry about what might happen until it does. You just wind up wasting a lot of energy that you could have spent"—she gestured to the pie in front of her—"eating a lot of pizza or running with your dog in the backyard once the sun goes down." Both things sounded amazing to Taryn. "Does that make sense?" Charlie asked. She met Taryn's eyes with her shimmering blue ones.

"Totally. I'll try not to stress. You know, or whatever." She had to look away. The sincerity of the conversation made her inexplicably nervous. She did better with Charlie when she played the role of mischievous kid.

"There you go. You got this. Sixth grade will be a breeze, and I can't wait to hear all about it."

That part made Taryn's heart swell because Charlie really did seem to care about her. They were friends in their own unique way, even if Charlie was paid to be there. She was always friendly to Taryn when they saw each other in the real world, going out of her way to stop and chat, making Taryn look like a social rock star in front of her eleven-year-old friends.

They spent the next two hours chilling on the couch watching a PG-13 movie about the last night of high school that made Taryn feel mature and educated on all things teenager.

"Asking for a friend. Are high school parties really this dramatic?" Taryn asked after a girl ran out the door crying while her best friend grabbed another beer and glared after her. Intimidation tapped her on the shoulder. How was she going to survive in that world?

Charlie shrugged and stole a handful of buttery popcorn from the large silver bowl between them. "Depends on the party."

"Then I might be in big trouble. I'm going to be that lonely girl on the side of the screen looking for adults to make conversation with."

Charlie frowned. "No, you're not. But I think everyone feels that way before you figure out who you're gonna be."

"Cool to know, I guess." The truth was Taryn didn't have a clue who she was going to be, but it was clear that Charlie's calm confidence meant she already had. It made Taryn want to try harder to put her stamp on the world—as her dad often said—and go out there and take on the hard stuff. Maybe she should learn to play an instrument or run for class office. Charlotte Adler status was something to strive for.

"And do you want to know what I already know?"

Taryn nodded, eager for that information.

"You're gonna go out there and knock this world over with all the things you're going to accomplish, and one day I'm going to get to say I told you so."

Taryn could hardly speak after that. Charlie was probably just trying to be a good role model or whatever, but the words left Taryn on a high for the rest of the movie. She happily ate popcorn, laughed along with Charlie, and secretly wondered about all that was ahead of her that year. Sadly, her fantastic evening was interrupted when the four parents arrived home with grins on their faces, smelling like wine and garlic bread and gushing about their night.

"Tare-Bear," her mother said loudly, encircling her neck from behind. "Charlotte's parents took us to the neatest little pizza place. I'm going to take you there one day soon so you can soak up the culture. So authentic! So chaotic! Your little heart will sing a song."

"Mom, did you have a glass of wine?" That pulled a laugh from the other three adults.

"Vino? Do you mean vino? I did have one. Yes." She gave Taryn's cheek a loud smack. Her mother's excitement at pretty much everything was not at all new. She grabbed hold of life and leapt. Loudly. Taryn didn't. Well, yet.

Off to the side, she watched as her father slipped a folded-up wad of cash into Charlie's hand, and she thanked him. While her mom sang something that sounded close to Italian in the kitchen, Charlie took three steps and pulled Taryn into a dedicated hug. "You have a good first week at school, okay? And less worrying, Taryn. You're gonna be great out there. The next time I'm over, I want every detail. I mean it."

Taryn smiled, nodded, and hugged her back, savoring the warmth that came over her but also feeling a little bit shy all of a sudden. Plus, being close to Charlie physically brought on an overwhelming wash of feelings she didn't know how to name. "Yeah, okay. You got it."

Four weeks later, Ronnie, Deirdre, and Charlotte moved from Dyer, Indiana, to sunny California without much notice at all. Ronnie announced plans to open up his own dealership and apparently didn't want to wait. Her dad was sad about that. He popped open a beer in the kitchen and shook his head. "Lost a good salesman and a buddy."

"Wait. The Adlers are moving?" Her heart dropped. She couldn't imagine not having Charlie-nights to look forward to anymore.

"Afraid so, kiddo. Good thing you don't need a babysitter much longer, right?"

"Yeah," she said flatly, her words echoing in her head, hollow and weird. Her chest ached, and all sorts of plans she'd made evaporated. Life without Charlie Adler in it sounded dull and unexciting. The little spark of excitement she'd come to cherish was extinguished in an unceremonious whoosh. "Good thing."