Prologue
I like talking to Connor.
He’s my new friend, and every time Mom takes me to the park, he’s there, waiting by the oak tree with his baseball glove and his missing teeth. I haven’t lost all of mine, but when I do, I want my mouth to look just like Mom and Dad’s. I just turned nine four weeks ago, and today was one of the best days yet.
We were hanging out near the swings when Connor grinned and asked, “Hey, Scarlett, wanna play catch?”
I beamed, grabbing the ball. “Yeah! I’m gonna throw it so hard!” I announced.
Connor laughed. “Okay, but you throw like a baby,” he teased, making me giggle.
I pretended to be mad until he pulled the last popsicle from his backpack and handed it to me. “Here. Don’t be sad,” he said with that same crooked smile.
Later, we raced our bikes down the big hill by the playground. The wind whipped through my curly hair as I pedaled like my life depended on it. Behind me, Connor shouted, “Go, Scarlett, go!” My legs burned, but I didn’t stop until I reached the bottom. I skidded to a halt, too fast, and tumbled off, scraping my knee.
Connor jumped off his bike and ran over. I look up at him as it begins to sting, and I want to cry. “It’s okay,” he said, like getting hurt was no big deal. “I fall all the time.” Somehow, that made me smile.
The sun dipped lower, painting the sky gold. Connor lay back on the grass, pointing upward. “Looks like a melted popsicle,” he said.
I burst out laughing, my sides hurting from giggling. We stayed like that, watching the sky turn pink and orange.
“I’m glad we’re friends, Connor,” I whispered, happiness settling in my chest.
He smiled back. “Me too, Scarlett. Me too.”
~
I’m thirteen now, and everything feels... different. Not in a bad way, just different. Connor still waits for me at the park, but sometimes we don’t even play.
We just talk. About nothing and everything. Last week, we sat on the swings, our feet barely touching the ground.
Connor looked at me with that curious expression he always has. “If you could live anywhere, where would it be?” he asked.
I thought for a moment, feeling the cool metal chains of the swing against my palms. “I’d want to live in a treehouse by the ocean,” I said, my eyes drifting off into the distance. “With a rope ladder and stars you could almost touch.”
Connor grinned, his gap-toothed smile still charming. “I’d come visit. Bring snacks,” he promised. Some nights, we sneak out and lay on the grass, the world quiet except for the crickets and the soft sound of faraway cars. Tonight was one of those nights. We found our spot on the hill, and Connor pointed up at the sky.
“I saw a shooting star,” he whispered.
I didn’t see it, but I closed my eyes and wished anyway.
I didn’t tell him what I wished for, but really, it was just for things to stay like this.
Easy. Us against the world.
As we lay there, the stars twinkling above us, I felt grateful for Connor. For our talks, our laughter, and our quiet moments together. I knew that as we grew older, things might change, but right now, this was perfect.
Connor turned his head to look at me, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. “You okay, Scarlett?”
I nodded, smiling softly. “Yeah, I’m good.” We lay there for a while longer, the night wrapping around us like a blanket. And in that moment, everything felt just right.
~
Fifteen feels heavier. Maybe because I know what’s coming.
I’m moving.
I didn’t tell Connor at first, I didn’t know how. How do you tell someone you’re leaving them behind?
We sat on the hill, our spot, stars scattered like diamonds above. The kind of night that makes you believe in forever.
Connor shifted beside me. “Scarlett,” he said, voice softer than usual, “I... I really like you.”
My heart stuttered. Then, before I could overthink it, he leaned in. Our lips met, gentle, awkward, perfect. My first real kiss. For a second, the world held its breath.
Then reality rushed back in. Tears burned my eyes. “Connor, I... I have to tell you something.”
His smile faltered. “What’s wrong?”
I swallowed hard. “I’m moving.”
The words felt like a betrayal.
Shock.
Hurt.
“What? When? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet night.
“I didn’t know how,” I whispered, guilt clawing at me.
Connor’s jaw tightened. “You should’ve told me,” he murmured.
I opened my mouth, closed it. Nothing would fix this. “I’m sorry,” I managed.
Silence stretched between us, thick, suffocating.
Then I turned and walked away. I didn’t look back. Couldn’t.
I never thought that would be the last time I’d see Connor Winters.
Or that it’d be the end of anything that ever felt normal.
