"You too," Ren said, watching my brother open the door and disappear inside. He stepped backwards, his smile dropping into a blank expression.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

Ren didn't answer right away, still watching the closed door. After a moment he asked, "He plays football?"

"Junior varsity. He made a touchdown at the last game."

"That's great." His words didn't match his eyes. What was wrong? He didn't like football players? Or he was envious of them? Or all his friends from his old school were football players and he missed them? My brain raced but I couldn't think of anything that made sense and I didn't want to ask.

He threw his skateboard down on the sidewalk in front of my house and I walked beside him.

"We don't have any skate parks around here," I offered, hoping to find a topic of conversation that might interest him.

He looked down at me and grinned crookedly, his face brightening, to my relief. He turned the board around on its back wheels, circling once then kick-flipped it.

"I don't need a park."

I nodded at his skateboard. "I'd show you some moves but I don't want to make you feel self-conscious."

He looked down at me, his mouth going solemn in mock respect. "You have moves?"

I giggled and then almost choked on it. A giggle? Ugh. I covered by clearing my throat. "Oh, yeah. They're amazing."

He arched his eyebrow and kicked the board up to his hand. He held it out to me.

"Oh no, I couldn't," I said backing away.

"I insist."

I took the board and let it drop to the sidewalk the way he had done, but it fell over on its side, the wheels spinning sadly in the air. I kicked at it. I missed and tried it again. It flopped over on the wheels the way it was supposed to and I stepped on it, my arms instinctively flailing out for balance.

"You're incredible," he said and stuck his foot between mine, steadying the board. He looked down at me and I stepped away, resisting the temptation to reach out and touch him.

"Yep. I'll teach you everything I know."

"I think you just did," he grinned and kicked the board back up into his hand.

"You could show me how to do that."

It was harder than it looked. Kicking it too lightly and it just bounced back on the wheels; too hard and it knocked me in the shins. Ren waited patiently while I attempted to make the board behave, his hands in his pockets. Finally I rubbed my shins and admitted defeat.

"It just takes practice," he said.

I gave him what was probably a gooey smile. He picked up the board and we finished walking to his house. He opened the wooden screen door and then the front door, pausing to let me in first.

His house was beautiful. They had hardwood floors like we did, except they were wide-planked and a rich, dark brown. The furniture matched the house, formal and kind of antique. The ceilings were high and so were the windows. Even with boxes everywhere it was grand and inviting--everything I'd dreamed it would be.

"Mom!" he called. Hearing him call for his mother was disconcerting; it almost made him ordinary. When he first stepped into my Spanish class he was otherworldly, as if the universe had presented him out of thin air for my admiration. He was no such phenomenon, apparently.

His mom appeared from the hallway, a cleaning rag in her hand. She was petite and small-boned, and she wore pink lipstick. She didn't seem old enough to have a teenage son. Her dark hair was cut to chin-length, a strand of it caught up in a barrette.

She smiled at me. "Hello! You must be MacKenzie."

"Nice to meet you," I said, impressed that she remembered my name.

"I met your mother earlier this afternoon. Ren tells me you are in his Spanish class."

"Yes-it's a pretty hard class-our teacher is nice, though." I wasn't sure what else to say. Rambling on about Ren's hotness didn't seem appropriate.

I stared around at the boxes. "It seems like a lot of work."

Ren and his mom looked at each other as she laughed, "Yes, it is."

"Is it okay if I show her around?" Ren asked. "She's been stalking this house since third grade as a trick-or-treater."

She laughed and waved hand at us. "As long as you don't mind boxes."

We walked back into the kitchen, which still had the high ceilings and trim but it was obviously renovated. Two French doors opened out to a patio in the backyard and there were windows everywhere, letting in the light. There was a stainless steel refrigerator and a stove that could have been in a restaurant. The countertops were granite and there were a lot of cabinets.

I admitted out loud that I was impressed. He said the kitchen had pretty much won his mom over, but his favorite part of the house was his bedroom.

"It's got this big circle window. Want to see?"

Did I want to see his bedroom? I ignored the vague thoughts about stuff that happens in bedrooms and focused on his enthusiasm for the window.

"Sure."

"Let me just tell my mom we're going upstairs."

We went back to the living room but his mom wasn't there, so he shouted out that we were going upstairs.

I suppose his parents had some rule about no girls in his bedroom or something. My parents probably had the same rule, but there wasn't any reason to tell me about it yet. The idea that I would invite some guy to my room was faintly scandalous.

His room was bright and bare, with a circular window that looked out at the field behind his backyard.

"That's so cool," I said, admiring the circle window.

"Yeah, I think I got the best room. It isn't the biggest, but it's nice."

The setting sun threw a pink light over everything in his room. There was a bed and a dresser so far and a lot of boxes. He moved one out of the way.

"I have so much crap. I have no idea where I'm going to put it all. Maybe the closet. That's where it all was when I packed it up."

I heard little girls' voices and looked over at him. "Are those your twin sisters?"

"Oh, yeah."

He stepped around the boxes and led me down the hall. To my delight their room was in the tower. The walls were octagonal, just like I'd imagined. Two beds and two dressers were lined up around the room, the beds almost like spokes.

His two sisters were wrestling with a box, their small hands trying to pull the tape off. They turned their heads to us when we walked in the room, their dark lashed eyes staring up at Ren.

One of them had pigtails and the other twin wore her hair in little blue plastic barrettes that matched her outfit. The one in barrettes glanced over at me but only for a moment. Her attention was all on Ren.

"Ren, open this for me!"

He knelt down and looked up at me. "This is Jenny," he said, nodding at her. "And this is Mandi."

"Hi," I said.

They both said "hi" at the same time, blinking up at me.

He knelt down next to her. "Okay Jenny. Let me help you."

Jenny sighed and moved away, letting him sit next to her. He slid his finger under the tape and pulled it. The tape ripped away from the box and Mandi gasped and moved closer to the box.

He pulled the tape off and then went to work on the rest of the tape until finally the flaps were free. The girls dove into the box, pulling out their toys.

Jenny held up a doll triumphantly. "It's my doll!"

Mandi scrambled around inside the box and held up a car. "It's my favorite car!"

Jenny demanded, "Do another box, Ren."

"I can help, too," I offered. Soon we were both busy prying at tape. It was easier for me because I had fingernails, so we worked out a system. I started the tape and he finished it. We got all the boxes open and watched them unearth all their captive toys .

"You'll have to put them back in the boxes until we get your shelves up," Ren said.

Jenny brushed her doll's hair, answering without looking up, "We know."

After we left them I whispered, "They are so sweet!"

He looked at me and rolled his eyes. "Sometimes. Mandy is a screamer and Jenny fake cries when she wants something."

We made our way downstairs and I thanked him for the tour. "Now I can sleep at night instead of wondering what is inside the mysterious blue house down the street."

"Glad I could help, although it creaks at night. It's kind of spooky."

A gust of wind caught us both as we stepped out of the door.

"So does mine. You'll get used to it. Ghosts and old wood and all that."

"You believe in ghosts?" He dropped the skateboard and shoved it toward me with his foot. I hopped on, carefully.

"Sure. Why not? It's probably why I don't watch horror movies. Do you?"

"Watch horror movies?" he asked.

"No...believe in ghosts?"

He paused for a moment, measuring me. "Yes."

"Well, if you need any help chasing them away, let me know," I teased.

He grinned. "I'm fine, thanks."

I wobbled on the board and then pushed it along, falling off at least five times and starting over until I reached Hank's driveway.

"Hold still," he said, and I stood on the board. I kept my balance, my arms out and my feet seesawing back and forth. He put his hands in the curve of my back and a thrill of pleasure ran up my spine--right before it tickled horribly. I jumped off the board, laughing.

"I'm so sorry, I'm really ticklish."

An evil smile crossed his face. "Really?"

"Yes. I mean it," I said backing away, my hands over the place where he had touched me.

"You're a mess. I can't even push you home."

I agreed but kept a few steps away from him, just in case. We stopped at my sidewalk.

"Thanks again for showing me your house," I said.

"You're welcome. I'll see you tomorrow." He rolled the skateboard under his foot, back and forth for a moment.

"See you tomorrow," I said. I didn't want him to go but it was getting cold.

He pushed off towards home, and I caught a glimpse of a smile.

Once inside my house, I closed the door and stood still for a second, amazed at my own luck. He was so good looking and charming and sweet, and he was two houses away. I would see him every day. It didn't seem possible that life would go so right. I shook off the daydreamy feelings and followed the savory scent coming from the kitchen.

My dad was standinat the stove, frying some pork chops and stirring a pot of green beans with the other hand. He's built like a football player with broad shoulders and big arms, strong and fairly manly in my opinion. His jaw jutted out as he concentrated.

"Hi, Dad."

He looked up from the pork chops and smiled. "Hi hon. Derek said you were visiting with a boy. Anyone I know?"

Dad was always on the alert for any boy news, presumably so he could frighten them away.

"Not unless you've just met the new people down the street."

"Oh, right. Your mom told me about them. They're finally moving in. I wonder what took them so long."

"They didn't say," I replied, leaning over to smell the pork chops. I gave my best imitation of a spy, "And I didn't ask."

"There's no shame in being nosy."

Derek wandered in, inhaling so hard I thought he was going to suck up the kitchen table. "Oh, please tell me dinner is ready. I can't take it anymore."

"When your mom gets here," Dad answered firmly. There was never any negotiating with my dad-he was as immovable as rock.