Chapter 1
“Jamie!”
My mother calls me from downstairs, her impatience evident in her voice. I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. Ten long months. The guy who looked like a total dork in his application photo is going to stay with us for ten months. It’s some kind of European exchange program that my parents signed me up for without asking if I wanted to participate. No, it was decided for me. They said I’d need to improve my French and that I should be grateful they didn’t send me to France. Grateful? I scoff. My stomach turns at the very thought. They only didn’t send me to France, they said, because I’m supposedly destined for a successful football career—maybe even professionally, if I’m lucky. But I don’t even know if that’s what I want. Maybe I’d rather be a human rights lawyer or a doctor in a third-world country. For now, though, I have to endure an entire year with that French kid.
“James Montgomery! Downstairs right now!” she calls again, leaving no room for negotiation. I press my pillow tighter against my face and let out a stifled cry of frustration.
“Coming!” I call back, already hearing my sister swoon over the French boy. This is going to be fun. I sigh and stand up. I’m going to be stuck with him for almost a year. I’ll have to share my bathroom with him and take him everywhere I go. I can’t bear the thought! As if things weren’t complicated enough! As if I weren’t already struggling. Now, I have to babysit a twelve-year-old French kid.
Of course, he is not twelve. He’s sixteen, just like me. You know what it’s like to be sixteen. You think you own the world. You feel invincible and grown up, but at the same time, you’re fighting identity battles: Who are you? Who do you want to be? Who are you supposed to be? Where is your place in life?
I have no reason to complain, though. I’m captain of the football team, have awesome friends, I’m popular, and can’t complain about a lack of attention from girls either. Everything is perfect, or at least it seems that way. But there’s a catch. I don’t want girls’ attention. I can’t pinpoint what I want. I just know that girls aren’t for me.
As I said, everyone has their struggles. I just don’t know where mine are headed yet. I wish I could talk to someone about it. To be honest, the only person I could talk to would be my twin sister, but I’m not ready for that yet. I’m pretty good at repressing my feelings, and I’m going to continue doing so for the time being. Repression and denial.
Trying to clear my mind, I jump down the stairs, only to be struck the moment I see him. Suddenly, my mind isn’t clear at all, and it seems like my brain has stopped functioning.
This boy is as delicate as a girl, although he doesn’t look it. There is nothing boyish about him, though. His hair is full, and despite not understanding why, I feel that it is the perfect blend of blonde and brown. It looks incredibly soft, and I can barely resist the urge to run my fingers through it to see if it feels as soft as it looks. What is wrong with me?
Studying him more closely, I narrow my eyes. He has a delicate face and small, narrow shoulders. Everything about him is unique. But beautifully unique.
“James, this is Louis,” my mother says, introducing him as if I didn’t already know. I raise my hand in greeting and manage a wry smile. Hetty nudges me, indicating that I should say something.
“Hello,” I manage to squeak out.
“Hello,” he replies, his soft voice almost taking my breath away.
I am completely confused by this, by him, by my reaction to him, and I find myself unable to hide my admiration for the new boy. Suddenly, I am eager to be around him for a year—and a year just doesn’t seem long enough. Not even a lifetime will be long enough. He is mine. I belong to him. My heart and soul have realized what my brain hasn’t yet.
“Please take Louis to his room and show him the house. Then, come into the kitchen so we can discuss everything else,” my mom says, pulling me from my swoon.
Nodding obediently, I turn to leave, but my sister cuts me off.
“I can do that! Oh, I’d love to!” she enthuses. Gently but firmly, I push her aside with my arm.
“But Mom said I should do it.”
“So what? I can. You didn’t want him here anyway.” Need I remind you?”
I give her a warning look before turning to Louis.
“You do understand English, don’t you?” I ask slowly, addressing the newest addition to our family. He nods but doesn’t say anything.
“See? He understands English, Hetty. There’s no need to make him feel unwelcome by being rude,” I hiss at my sister. Then, I turn back to Louis, take his bag, and say, “It was just unexpected. Welcome to our home. Nice to have you here,” I say, feeling my heart betray me as it screams for him to never leave again.
He stands glued to the floor, so I put my arm around him. “Allez,” I say in my worst French, nodding toward the stairs. Then he grinned at me, and that little crooked grin completely unravels me. There he is: Louis.
“This is your room,” I say as I open the door to the room next to mine. “It used to be my older brother’s room. He left for college, and as you can see, he was into girls and sports. Feel free to change whatever you want, okay?”
“Our rooms are connected by the bathroom. We’ll have to share it, though,” I explain, shrugging apologetically as I put down his bag. He still hasn’t said anything. “Let me know if you don’t understand me, okay? Not that French would be an option for me, but we’ll make it work.”
He nods.
“Well, get settled in, and then meet us in the kitchen.”
Louis reaches out and takes my arms. I freeze at the unexpected touch, my skin tingling where his hand rests. I’m not used to being touched like this. But his hand is as soft as his voice. My throat tightens and my heart beats fast. I find myself at his feet, knowing I would do anything for him.
“I’ll come with you now,” he says quietly. His English is good, and I like the accent he has when he speaks it. It makes me shudder.
“Okay,” I say, shrugging and turning to go back downstairs. But he pulls me back.
“Sorry if you don’t want me here. It wasn’t my first choice either. My parents made me.”
“Yeah, I can’t imagine my parents sending me to France. I guess I’m the lucky one. I do want you here, though. Or at least as much as you would have wanted me in Paris.”
He smiles shyly, his skin tone turning a soft pink, and I find myself falling for him, even though I should feel this way about a girl. Now it’s clear why girls aren’t for me. It’s him I want to be with. A boy. But not just any boy. Louis.
“Are you into sports?” I ask, trying to make light conversation as we leave my room to meet Mom in the kitchen.
“Do I look like I’m into sports?” he asks, smiling and pointing at himself.
“We’ll find something for you,” I reply. “Maybe the glee club or the book club? But I think you should try out for the football team. You can come to practice with me and meet my friends. Maybe that would be good for you.”
“I don’t think so,” he says quietly. “I don’t think things will be as easy for me as they are for you.”
“Why shouldn’t they be? What makes you think things are easy for me?”
“Look at me, then look at you,” he says. I do. I look at him. He is not just beautiful; he is breathtaking. That’s what I think, but of course, I wouldn’t dare say that out loud.
“You look just fine to me,” I say instead. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Come to the gym with me. Put on some weight.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he mumbles. On second thought, I don’t want him to look any different. I think he’s perfect the way he is.
“All right, boys,” my mother says. “Louis, do you know where everything is? Did James show you around?”
He nods.
“I’m sorry you have to share a bathroom with Jamie. We can work out a schedule if you two don’t get along.”
He nods again. “I’m not complicated. I’m grateful for your hospitality.”
“Stop this nonsense. You are at home here now, as we all are. I want you to feel like part of the family,” my mom waves his concern off.
I can’t ignore the looks my sister is secretly giving Louis, and they irritate me. She’s eating him up with her eyes.
“Could you stop that?” I hiss at her.
“What?” she snaps. “Jealous?”
“You’re ridiculous. Don’t do that. Don’t reduce him like that.”
“Oh, Mr. Righteousness. I’m sorry. And no, I’m not reducing; I’m admiring. There’s a difference.”
“It’s still staring!” I bark.
She turns to Louis and speaks to him as if he were illiterate.
“Sorry, -but- my- dumb-ass- little-brother- here- is- obsessed- with- juuuus-tiiiice. He’s- a- people- pleaser- and- a- suuuuckeeeer- for- vaaali-daaaa-tion.”
“Screw you, Het!” I yell. “He’s not stupid! Don’t talk to him like that, and don’t talk about me like that.”
“Hetty! James! Enough now!” My mother jumps in, then sighs and turns to Louis. “Do you have any siblings? Brothers or sisters?”
“Yes, I do. I have a brother.”
“Okay, then you’re used to this. If they get on your nerves, let me know. They usually behave well.”
He smiles. “It’s okay. I won’t give you or them any trouble.”
“You won’t, darling. Of that, I am sure. Don’t worry.” She puts a motherly hand on his. Even that irritates me. I don’t want her to touch him. I can’t explain why; I just don’t.
“So, tomorrow you will go to school with the twins, but first, you’ll meet the other exchange students. They’ll show you around and tell you how things work there. I think you should go to football practice with James; that would be a nice activity for you. What are your hobbies? What do you like to do? Let me know if I’m talking too fast or if you don’t understand. Don’t be shy.”
“Mom, for God’s sake, give him a break! You’re way over the top.”
But he smiles and nods. “I play the piano, and I like to read.”
“Oh, that’s great!” she exclaims, clapping her hands. “We have a piano that no one ever uses, but Jamie plays beautifully. I would love to hear you play it!”
Louis just nods again. He doesn’t seem to be much of a talker, but maybe that’s because everything here is still new to him.
“Okay, I will. Thank you.”
Mom turns to me, runs her hand through my hair, and I quickly pull away, ashamed. “And you, James, you need to get a haircut.”
“But Mom, why? I like my hair the way it is!”
“It’s growing like weeds. Soon, you’ll look like a girl!”
“What?” I stammer, offended. “All the surfer boys wear it like that. What does that have to do with looking like a girl? Mom, this is a reduction.”
“Oh, that would be a nice activity for the two of you!” she calls out, her face lighting up, ignoring what I just said. “Jamie could teach you how to skateboard and surf. He’s really good at both. And Louis, maybe you could talk some sense into him about getting a haircut.” She winks at him and runs her hand through my long, blonde, sun-kissed hair again.
“Mom, please don’t,” I beg reproachfully. Why does she have to do that in front of Louis?
Hetty giggles. “Yeah, Jamie girl, listen to your mommy.”
“Oh, you shut up,” I hiss at her.
Why do they have to humiliate me like this? Why do they have to do it in front of Louis? They never behave like this. Here I am trying to be all cool, and they treat me like a five-year-old.
“I think it’s beautiful. Jamie’s hair,” Louis says out of the blue, catching us all off guard. My face turns deep red as heat flushes through my veins.
“Uh, you think?” I turn to him; a lump forms in my throat.
He looks at me, his soft brown eyes meeting mine, and my heart skips a beat.
“Yes, I do. I think you have very beautiful hair.”
Louis reaches out, runs his soft hand through my hair, and tucks a strand behind my ear with a chuckle.
There I stand. Frozen to the spot, breathless, with sweat building on my forehead, and just like that, I have fallen in love.
Encouraged, I brag, “Soon I can tie it up. See?” I grab my hair and show him that it is almost long enough.
“That would look beautiful, too,” he says in a soft voice, filling the room with a new kind of tension.
“Oooookaaaay...” Hetty knocks on the table with her knuckles. “Um, may I be excused? I have better things to do than drool over Jamie’s hair and come between these flirting little lovebirds.”
She rolls her eyes and makes a disgusted face. Hetty looks exactly like me. The only differences are our gender and our personalities.
“James’ transformation into a girl doesn’t interest me at all,” she adds.
“Why are you like this?” I bark. “Mom! Say something!”
Mom turns to Louis and grins, “Welcome to the madhouse, darling.”
