Chapter 1
“Let’s get boyfriends!”
Kristy drops the suggestion so casually, that she might as well be asking us to split a basket of fries.
We’re at Izzy’s, Aurora Springs’ ultimate hangout spot. The past clings to the place like old perfume—red checkered floors, vinyl booths that wobble when you sit, and a jukebox in the corner that nobody ever uses. Someone’s hijacked the speakers with their Bluetooth again, so now we’re stuck listening to obnoxious hip-hop. It’s all bass and flexing like the guy rapping thinks he’s too cool to have an actual personality.
Millie looks up from her milkshake, her freckles standing out against the blush spreading across her cheeks. Her headband, the one with tiny daisies, only makes her look more startled. “What?”
Kristy just takes a long sip of her soda, leaning back in the booth with this smug little grin. She’s enjoying herself way too much.
“Absolutely not,” I say, leaning forward. “Boyfriends are not getting on this list.”
Kristy raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”
“Because this isn’t that kind of list.”
“It’s not been that kind of list for a while now,” she says.
Every year, we make a list of challenges for the school year. What started as a guidance counselor’s attempt to promote “self-growth” during freshman orientation has since spiraled into something less... academic. Last year’s list had ten items, everything from “Try boba tea” (which Kristy called basic) to “Sneak out of school during hours” (which was impossible for me but Kristy nailed it in record time). The scoreboard was brutal: Millie, ten for ten. Me, nine. Kristy, six—but only because she thought winning was boring.
Kristy’s foot taps impatiently under the table, her combat boot thudding against the leg of the booth. “We’re juniors now—practically seniors. This list needs to reflect that.”
“Reflect what?” I ask.
“Excitement,” she says, like it’s obvious. “Adventure. Danger.” She leans in, lowering her voice like she’s Medusa. ”Risqué things.”
Millie nearly chokes on her milkshake. “I think the list is fine the way it is.” She smooths her floral sundress and gives Kristy a pointed look. “We’ve survived two years without adding boys into the mix.”
Kristy snorts. “Survived? Sure. But your idea of fun is reorganizing your sock drawer. Rosie’s isn’t much better. ‘Help out at the animal shelter’? ‘Volunteer for the bake sale’? Come on.” She waves her hands like she’s banishing those ideas from the table. “This year, we need something bold.”
I shake my head. “This list isn’t about being reckless. It’s supposed to challenge us to do something meaningful, something we wouldn’t normally do.”
Kristy gives me a look, the kind that says she thinks I’m a lost cause. “Exactly. And I’m challenging you to stop being boring.”
She grabs the notebook sitting between us and flips it open. “Let’s see what we’ve got so far.”
I reach for the notebook, but she’s faster, holding it just out of my reach. She squints at the page, her nose wrinkling in mock disapproval. “‘Visit a haunted house.’ Cute, but nah. ‘Run a 5K.’ Boring. Who wants to sweat for fun? Oh, here’s one: ‘Try out for the school play.’” She pauses for dramatic effect, then looks up at me. “Who wrote this? Your grandma?”
Millie laughs softly. “Kristy, it’s not that bad.”
Kristy rolls her eyes. “It’s grandma-level. I mean, even Tallulah’s living more on the edge than this, and she’s six.”
“She eats candy for breakfast and puts on fashion shows with your mom’s stuff,” Millie points out.
Kristy grins. “Exactly. She’s living more on edge. That’s the energy we need.”
I fiddle with the frayed edges of my shorts, tugging at a loose thread. “So you’re saying boys are that edge?”
“I’m saying this list needs a makeover,” Kristy says, smacking the notebook closed with a flourish. “And I’m just the girl to do it.”
Somewhere behind us, a group of guys erupts into laughter as someone sinks a shot at the pool table. The waitresses weave between tables, balancing trays of burgers and milkshakes like it’s a sport. Kristy glances at the guys, then back at me.
“Look, Rosie, don’t think of it as reckless,” she says. “Think of it as expanding your horizons. You might actually learn something.”
I give her a skeptical look. “Like what?”
“Like what gyat means,” Kristy says, grinning.
Millie raises an eyebrow. “You could just Google it.”
Kristy waves her off. “It’s better if a guy teaches you.”
“Or TikTok,” I say.
She ignores me, grabbing the pen and scribbling something into the notebook in her infamous chicken scrawl.
“Get fake IDs for a club or concert!”
The words just... slip out.
Millie freezes, her straw hovering mid-air, and Kristy’s pen stops in the middle of scratching a doodle into the margins of the notebook. They both turn to stare at me like I’ve just confessed to a murder.
“That’s it,” Kristy says, recovering first. She sets the pen down with a loud clack and looks at me like I’ve finally grown a spine. “Roselle Lowell, welcome to the wild side.”
“I didn’t mean it,” I mumble, already regretting everything. “It was a joke.”
“Oh, sure,” Kristy says, grabbing the notebook and underlining Get fake IDs twice like it’s set in stone now. “It just popped out of your innocent, grandma mouth.”
“I don’t have a grandma mouth!”
“You were caddying the whole summer break,” she says, waving me off.
Millie leans over, peering at the new addition to the list. “Are we... seriously doing this?”
Kristy gasps dramatically, clutching her chest like Millie just insulted her honor. “Of course we’re doing this. It’s bold, it’s reckless, it’s exactly what we need. Big risk, big reward.”
I open my mouth to object, but before I can, a loud cheer erupts from the pool table behind us. And that’s when Jason Torres walks in.
Jason Torres. Of all people.
He’s got that lazy, overconfident walk, the kind that makes it seem like he’s been practicing in front of a mirror. His brown hair is messy in a way that’s clearly on purpose, and his black T-shirt stretches just right across his broad shoulders. You know the type. The kind of guy who thinks he’s the main character.
“Oh, great,” Kristy mutters under her breath. “Mosquito season.”
Jason spots us immediately. Or, more specifically, Kristy. His smirk stretches wider, and my stomach drops because I already know where this is going.
"Kristina,” he says as he reaches us, leaning over the back of our booth like he’s been invited.
Kristy stiffens, her fingers curling around the edge of the notebook. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why not? It’s your name.” His voice is light and teasing, but there’s something about the way he looks at her like he’s memorizing every little reaction.
“Do you need something, or are you just here to waste my time?” Kristy snaps.
Jason shrugs. “I saw you three scheming and got curious. What is it this time? Sock drive? Scrapbooking club?”
Millie ducks her head, biting back a laugh, and I sink lower into my seat, wishing I could disappear. Jason and Kristy bickering is like a car crash—you don’t want to look, but you also can’t help it.
“None of your business,” Kristy says, slamming the notebook shut and pulling it closer.
Jason tilts his head, his grin growing. “Come on, Kristina. Don’t tell me you’re planning something illegal.”
Kristy freezes for just a second. It’s quick—so quick that if I weren’t staring at her, I might have missed it. But then she recovers, rolling her eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t fall out of her head. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but no. Now go away.”
Jason leans in closer, completely ignoring the hostility radiating off her. “You’re cute when you’re mad,” he says, his voice low and teasing.
Kristy’s cheeks flush pink, and I’m pretty sure her grip on the notebook tightens. “Do you ever shut up?”
“Nope,” Jason says easily, but there’s something softer in his tone now, something almost warm. “But I think you like that about me.”
Millie chokes on her milkshake, and I turn my attention to the napkin dispenser, pretending to be deeply interested in its design.
Kristy stands abruptly, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I’m going home.”
“And Tallulah? Are you picking her up?” Millie asks quietly.
She smacks her forehead and falls back into the booth. “Fine,” she mutters, sliding back into her seat with all the grace of someone being forced into a dentist’s chair. “But just know I’m only staying because I want to, not because of you.”
Jason chuckles, standing upright but lingering for just a moment longer. “See you later, Kristina.”
“Don’t count on it,” she mutters, flipping open the notebook again.
But even as she starts writing furiously, I catch her glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.
Millie leans closer to me, her voice barely above a whisper. “Was that... flirting?”
“No way,” I whisper back, but even I don’t sound convinced.
Kristy doesn’t look up. “If either of you says another word, I’m adding Volunteer to walk old ladies’ dogs to the list.”
Millie goes silent, her lips pressed tight, but I can see her shoulders shaking as she fights back a laugh. I bite mine back too, picking up my milkshake.
Somehow, I know this isn’t the last time Jason Torres is going to mess with Kristy—or the last time Kristy is going to pretend she doesn’t like it.
Authors note
Just revised this chapter. I usually struggle with my firsts because I almost never think of them when an idea pops in my mind but I think I tried. Don’t forget to vote & comment. Oh and share
