The weekend that followed was long and filled with misgivings. Michael never reached out to "see me" like I thought he had said. So I had way too much time on my hands to stare at my neglected cell phone and think about him.

I couldn't help but wonder why Michael had been so persistent in seeking me out over the preceding week. Not that he'd declared a specific interest or anything, but he clearly went out of his way to see me during the school days-for friendship or more I couldn't quite tell. Could it really be that we had connected on that Guatemala trip? And why me? He seemed to have made other friends in the short time he'd been in Tillinghast, the sort of guys who hung out with the most popular girls and ignored the rest of us. I couldn't help but feel like Michael would start ignoring me, too, one day.

By Monday morning, I had my guard back up. So when I stepped out of English and spotted him talking to a group of jocks instead of waiting alone for me, it seemed that my fears were confirmed. Fears that he'd given up on our tenuous relationship, fears that he hadn't been genuinely interested from the start. I let my hair hang in front of my face, and walked in the opposite direction to avoid pa.s.sing him. Even though it was the wrong way to my next cla.s.s.

Darting down the hallway as quickly as I dared, I heard my name being called out.

"Ellie."

I knew it was Michael's voice, but I was so embarra.s.sed that he might have caught my glance and my hasty exit that I kept moving.

"Ellie." His voice was getting louder, and I could hear his footsteps approach. But I kept pretending I couldn't hear him.

Michael reached my side, and reached out for my arm. It tingled where he touched it. "Ellspeth," he whispered, and his breath sent shivers up my spine. The long, disappointing weekend had done nothing to change his physical effect on me.

I stopped walking and turned to look at him. He seemed upset.

"I know you saw me. Why did you walk away?"

"You seemed"-I reached for an explanation-"busy. I didn't want to interrupt."

"You should know that I'm not interested in them. I'm interested in you."

"Really?"

"Really."

Our eyes locked for a brief second, when I realized that Piper and Missy were walking nearby. And watching our every move.

Michael must have realized it too, because he broke my gaze and changed the subject.

"Sorry I didn't get a chance to call you this weekend. Did you have a good one?" he asked as we started walking down the hall again.

"Yeah, I guess so." I desperately wanted to ask what kept him from calling, but I didn't want him to think I'd fixated on his parting words from Friday.

"How'd you like the movie on Sat.u.r.day?"

"You were at the Odeon?" I was shocked. No self-respecting Tillinghast upper-cla.s.s guy would be caught dead at the Odeon, which only showed foreign movies and independent films. From what I remember, the theater was almost empty.

At the mere mention of the Odeon, Piper and Missy giggled and walked away. In that split second, they clearly decided that Michael-no matter how cute and how senior-wasn't worth their attention. He had revealed himself as an indie-movie-watching geek. I was relieved.

Michael answered as if totally unaware of, or even better, uninterested in, the judgment just pa.s.sed by Missy and crew. "I came in late by myself. You and your friend looked like you were having so much fun that I didn't want to interrupt you guys."

"You were there by yourself?" I blurted out and then my cheeks flushed. Of course I wanted to know if he'd brought a date, but why did I have to be so obvious?

He smiled. "Yeah, I was. That's probably not very cool, is it? To go to the movies on a Sat.u.r.day night without any friends?" But he didn't seem the least embarra.s.sed. In fact, his ability to do whatever he wanted without worrying about the social consequences was one of the things I liked most about him.

If possible, I got even redder. I hadn't meant to insult him, but at least he didn't grasp the real reason I'd asked the question. Or at least he had the decency to pretend that he didn't.

Michael continued, "I've lived in enough places that I've learned not to care what is cool. I've learned to suit myself. And anyway, Tillinghast is a small place. It helps to get out of it for a while, even if it's just at the movies. If that makes any sense at all."

"It does." He made it sound acceptable, rather than strange, to spend a Sat.u.r.day night at the Odeon. And I really did get what he said. Having spent so much time in other cultures, I shared his compulsion to escape from the confines of Tillinghast into other worlds.

He changed the subject back to the movie, a French film. Before long, we were back on track and engrossed in a discussion over the best French movies. I favored the Three Colors Trilogy, while he advocated for La Femme Nikita La Femme Nikita with its stylized action scenes. with its stylized action scenes.

We arrived at my calculus cla.s.s door too quickly. For me, anyway. The embarra.s.sing moment of departure arrived once again. But before I could say anything silly, Michael said, "I wanted to ask you-"

"Ellie, there you are!" Ruth bounded over and landed directly between us. "You almost forgot this in my car this morning, and you ran out of English before I could hand this to you." She stuck out a folder and handed it to me. I took the folder from her, careful not to touch her directly. Since the flashes started, I always took extra care to make sure I didn't get any from Ruth. Late last school year, I accidentally brushed up against her arm as she was looking at Jamie, a junior guy she often described as "thick," and I saw that she actually had some pretty intense feelings for him. I didn't want any more flashes from Ruth. It would make our friendship really weird.

I stared down at the folder Ruth had jammed into my hand and realized that it contained my calculus homework. "Oh, wow, thanks, Ruth. I can't believe I almost left it behind."

Looking up, I saw that Ruth was gaping at Michael-and speechless. I realized that Ruth had leaped between Michael and me without realizing that we were talking. Why would she think that I'd be talking to him? After all, I'd made a conscious decision not to mention him to her. But based on her reaction, it was clearly a very bad decision. I definitely wished that I had brought up Michael already.

What else could I do at that moment but introduce them and try to act normally? "I don't think you two have met. Ruth Hall, this is Michael Chase. Michael, this is Ruth."

"Nice to meet you, Ruth," Michael said.

Still Ruth said nothing, just kept staring. You'd think she'd never seen a guy speak to her best friend before.

Since he was getting no response from Ruth, Michael turned back to me and continued where he left off. "Anyway, Ellie, I know it's early in the week, but I wanted to ask if you were free this Sat.u.r.day night. Maybe we could go to the Odeon together?"

I shot a glance at Ruth, whose mouth had literally dropped open. We had talked about going to see the new Odeon release ourselves, this upcoming Sat.u.r.day night. "Actually, Ruth and I had plans-"

With a start, Ruth came out of her spell. "Ellie, I forgot to tell you that I have a family party to go to on Sat.u.r.day night. So you're free, you're totally free."

Family party? Ruth didn't have any family besides her dad. That was one reason she'd gotten so close to me and my parents, and her dad had gotten so tight with my mom and dad. That, and the fact that her dad and my parents shared a near-obsession with the environment. Ruth was really looking out for me, despite the shock at seeing me talk to Michael.

"Great," Michael said with a smile at Ruth. He looked at me again. "Should we meet there at six thirty?"

I was a little surprised that he didn't offer to pick me up, but then what did I know about going on a date? This would be my first. "Sure. I'll see you there."

He laughed. "Okay, but it's only Monday. I think I'll run into you before then."

I blushed yet again. "Right, right."

Just then the bell rang. We all said a hasty farewell, and went our separate ways to cla.s.s.

Chapter Seven.

I expected Ruth to be waiting for me at the end of the day. I knew I had some explaining to do. I'd never mentioned Michael to her before, and suddenly we were going on a date. It was kind of a big deal, and Ruth only knew about it because she walked up to me at the right moment. I wasn't sure what her reaction to the news would be, but the fact that she'd sacrificed our plans so I could go out with Michael was a good sign. I hoped.

I saw her standing just inside the main doors, looking distracted, and tugging at some strands of her long, red hair-clearly lost in thought. Ruth was quiet as we walked out of the building toward the parking lot. We'd planned to go to the library to work on our first serious English project, and she was driving. My eco-friendly parents didn't believe that we should own more than one car-the whole carbon footprint thing. They figured I could-and should-walk anywhere I needed to go in Tillinghast, even in the winter. It irked them that I circ.u.mvented their wishes by driving everywhere with Ruth.

I was quiet, too, waiting for her verdict.

"Why didn't you tell me about Michael?" she finally said.

Still unsure how to read her, I tread cautiously. "Tell you what?"

"About your relationship with him."

"Relationship? We've only been in school for a little over a week, and Michael and I have talked a total of maybe five times. Today's the first time that an actual date came up."

"Don't be literal with me, Ellie. You've obviously been talking to him, and you haven't mentioned him even once. And you had plenty of opportunities; we were together all Sat.u.r.day night."

I had my answer: Ruth was mad. As mad as the reserved Ruth got. I guessed that her anger wasn't from jealousy of my marginal success with a guy, but because I hadn't told her. I knew that the very thought of keeping secrets from each other was beyond her comprehension. In fact, to her, it was tantamount to betrayal. It offended her sense of loyalty.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think there was really much to say."

"I thought we told each other everything. Whether it seems inconsequential or not."

"Ruth, no one knows better than you that I have absolutely no experience with guys. I didn't know if he was just being friendly because we'd both been on that grueling summer program to Guatemala a few years ago. So I didn't really know what to tell you-"

"He was on one of your parents' trips?" She paused to process that little nugget. "So that's why he was staring at us on the first day of school...."

Ruth saw Michael that day. I was shocked that she noticed him but never mentioned him and offended that she thought the only reason he'd stare at me was familiarity. But I was in the hot seat, not Ruth, so I said, "Yeah, our parents do similar kinds of work. He recognized me in the hallway, and it was so awkward because I didn't remember him-"

Ruth's anger couldn't hold. She interrupted me. "I get it, Ellie. Even though I'm still a little mad that you kept it from me, I'm excited for you," she said and sounded like she really meant it. "So, what are you going to wear on Sat.u.r.day?"

I was forgiven, and Ruth was off and running, mentally culling through my limited wardrobe. My parents were not big believers in ama.s.sing goods beyond the absolutely necessary. This dismayed Ruth, who was a secret student of fashion although you'd never know it from her bland school "uniform" of jeans, T-shirts, and sweaters. After listening to Ruth debate the merits of jeans versus skirts, I ventured a question about Michael. One I'd wanted to ask all week, but I'd hesitated to bring up to the very protective Ruth. Until now.

"You don't know anything about him, do you?" I asked, and there was that crimson flush on my cheeks again. "I mean, have you heard anything about Michael's move here?"

"Well, sure, let's see." I could practically see Ruth ticking through her internal file folders on every person in the upper school-another one of her secret hobbies. She collected gossip, but she didn't spread it. At least, not to anyone other than me. She claimed that she culled this information out of necessity rather than true interest; she said that, as we learned in The Art of War The Art of War, which we read for history last year, we needed to "know our enemies." We'd had enough unpleasantness with the popular crowd and wannabes for her taste. Again, part of her protective personality-for herself and me.

"His family moved to Tillinghast this summer. He plays football and is supposedly amazing. That is what the new football coach has been saying, anyway. All the different groups of guys are friendly with him-the football players, the soccer guys, even the stoners-but he hasn't latched on to one group. He seems to prefer his own company, by his choice, not anyone else's. Oh, and he's smart. Scary smart, I hear."

Blush notwithstanding, I plunged back in with the question I really wanted to ask. "Has he dated anyone?"

"No." She laughed. "A couple of girls have crushes on him already, but I haven't heard about him paying any particular attention to anyone." She paused and smiled at me. "Until now."

I smiled back. My private little connection with Michael had suddenly become real.

By the end of the week, I'd grown sick of talking about what I should wear on my date. Ruth had torn through my closet in frustration, judging my collection of dark-colored jeans, cords, sweaters, T-shirts, and tops completely unsuitable. She then steered me through her own closet, with its rarely worn but definitely cooler mix of casual clothes. But none of them worked on my slimmer, taller body. Desperate, Ruth finally dragged me to the mall-a place my parents frowned upon as a sad temple to materialism-looking for something "date-like," whatever that meant.

There was only one good thing about Ruth's mad quest for the perfect date outfit. Between that and my regular schoolwork, I was so distracted that I barely had any time to think about the purpose for all this madness. So by the time 6:30 on Sat.u.r.day evening rolled around, and my parents dropped me off in front of the Odeon with eyebrows arched at the fact that Michael didn't pick me up, I wasn't even that nervous.

I stood at the Odeon's doors all by myself watching the clock tick off fifteen minutes. Those fifteen minutes gave me ample time to review all my conversations with Michael and cringe over my awkward comments, to wonder what on earth we'd talk about, and to triple-guess my Ruth-approved outfit. I started to feel so anxious that I wondered if I should leave.

But then Michael rounded the corner. When I saw him wearing a pair of khakis and a b.u.t.ton-down, I was glad to have worn the vintage blazer, long-sleeve black J. Crew top, and skinny black pants that Ruth had insisted upon. And I was really, really happy that I had stayed.

"I'm so sorry to keep you waiting, Ellie," Michael said as he handed me a beautiful, gold-foil gift bag. "This isn't an excuse, but I hope it explains my delay."

I took the bag with a small, cautious smile. I reached inside and slid out a box of expensive chocolate truffles with a cinnamon center. I couldn't believe it. Over the course of the week, Michael had casually asked me about my favorite candy, and I'd named my dream treat. I never imagined that he'd get it for me.

"I can't believe you remembered."

"You didn't tell me how hard these were to come by in Tillinghast."

"I can't believe you found them in town at all. I've only ever had them abroad in duty-free shops when I traveled with my parents for those summer trips."

He smiled sheepishly. "I didn't find them in Tillinghast exactly."

"Please don't tell me that you went too far out of your way."

"Let's just say that the gift shop in the big hotel in Bar Harbor carries a really nice selection of candy." He took me by the hand and said, "Come on, we don't want to miss the movie, do we?"

Chapter Eight.

The movie and dinner couldn't have gone better if I'd scripted them myself. The movie was a perfect choice, enough action and philosophy to satisfy us both, but no embarra.s.sing love scenes. I had enough trouble concentrating on the movie given that my arm kept brushing up against Michael's, without having to deal with some on-screen love interest. The diner where we had burgers and fries afterward seemed somehow transformed into a French bistro straight out of one of the movie scenes. And we talked easily all night.

Over a shared dessert, we playfully debated some more foreign films. As we finished both the chocolate cake and our cheerful dispute, he said, "G.o.d, I'm glad you're in Tillinghast."

I felt my cheeks burn bright red. I wasn't sure how to take his statement, so I pushed the chocolate cake crumbs around the plate and said, "You are?"

"I mean it's so great to find someone in this small town who's smart and interested in the world beyond Tillinghast. Someone who's traveled to the same kind of obscure places and who's dealt with the same kind of single-minded parents."

The way Michael said "someone" made me hesitate. Was he happy to have found just anyone with whom he could connect? Or was he happy to have found me me?

As if he knew what I was thinking, he said, "I'm so glad to have found you here, of all places. Imagine seeing you again in Tillinghast after first meeting you in rural Guatemala."

I smiled and looked up. "Even if I can't remember you from Guatemala?" I'd tried and tried to conjure up even one image of him from Guatemala, but couldn't. It was like a wall in my head that I couldn't scale or peer around no matter how hard I tried.

He smiled back. "Even if I was forgettable in Guatemala."

We laughed over my forgetfulness, and I was hugely relieved. Up until now, we'd managed to skirt the issue of Guatemala and my strange amnesia about him. But I'd always felt awkward about it. Not anymore.

As he helped me into my jacket after dinner, I thought about how I loved what I saw in Michael. He was funny, chivalrous, and thoughtful, always opening the door for me and even stopping to help an older woman struggling to cross the street in between the theater and diner. He was obviously well-traveled, and really bright. He had only one flaw: He seemed too good to be true. In fact, he was so comfortable it made me wonder whether he'd been on tons of dates before.

We walked toward the diner door, and I wondered if I should call my parents for a ride. After all, Michael hadn't said anything about driving me home, and he did ask me to meet him at the movies. Maybe he didn't have a car, and I didn't want to be presumptuous.

I pulled out my cell phone, and started to dial. He asked, "Who are you calling?"

"My parents."

"Do you always call them to report in midway through a date?" he said with a laugh.