Chapter 1
Sean
SevenYearsAgo
“Freeze right there.”
I come to a standstill, one foot on the cement path, the other stranded in the air like I’m playing an intense game of red-light-green-light.
I glance up to the porch of the house where a red-faced man stands. Is that a knife in his hand? Just a newspaper.Phew.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he barks.
Am I allowed to speak?
“What do you want?” he yells again.
I should probably answer him.
Dropping my foot the rest of the way to the cement, I clear my throat. “I’m here to see Sun— I mean, London, sir.”
My feet resume their trek up the walkway toward the man I assume is London’s dad.
He maneuvers to the top of the porch steps, blocking my way to the door. “Why?”
“I asked her to prom,” I say, still pleased she said yes, and I got a chance to ask her before my twin brother did. For the first time ever, we have a crush on the same girl. But mine runs deeper. Also, I called dibs.
“No.”
Did I ask a question? I’m so confused. Maybe he misunderstood me. People misunderstand me a lot. “Oh, I already asked her,” I say to clarify. “Prom is next week so I came by to finalize plans. And my mom needs to know what color of tie to get me.”
He drops down the porch, thunking with each step.
“I know you asked her. She told me. But I said no. You’re not taking my daughter to prom.”
Now I’m really confused. “I’m not?”
He's taller than me, but I’m not done growing yet. I don’t want to be intimidated by him, but I am. He’s holding my future in his hands right now. I know, I know, I shouldn’t get hung up on a girl at seventeen. But London is not just any girl. I only have one class with her, but it’s the best class of the day. She’s kind and sweet to everyone, she brings light and happiness, spreading her sunshine wherever she goes. One day she had a little sun sticker on her prosthetic arm, so I called her Sunny, and then it stuck. Everyone I know calls her that now. But I liked it better when it was just mine.
He stops two feet away from me and folds his arms. “I know who you are. You’re the punk who embarrassed my daughter on her first day in a new school.”
I cringe. Yes, I did that, but I’ve talked to London and apologized. We’re good now. However, her dad’s angry face is making me believe we aren’t in fact good. Is she still mad at me?
“It was a mistake, honestly.” It had been. A stupid one. I’m good at those.
On London’s first day, I got to show her around. There was a class meeting going on at the time in the auditorium, so I decided to introduce her with a bang. I brought her on stage, declaring her the newest member of our class to nothing but cheers and applause. Who doesn’t want to be received like that? But London looked ready to vomit all over the green Spokane hoodie she was wearing. Why was she wearing that hoodie anyway? It was nearly a hundred and twenty degrees outside.
That should have been a clue I had misread something. I do that often.
I reached for her hand to comfort her and impart some of my dimwitted courage. That's when things took a turn for the worse because I grabbed a half empty sleeve out of her hoodie pocket.
There was a collective gasp, but it didn't reach my brain’s processing center. You know, the thing that’s supposed to stop me from making stupid mistakes like this.
“Where’s the rest of your arm?”
And that.
“Is it in your jacket?”
