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  My phone vibrates in my pocket. I flip it open to see who texted me.

  FUNNY OR SCARY?

  It’s from Noah.

  I smile, picturing him flipping through DVDs. I type back.

  FUNNY

  I wait anxiously in case he sends anything back.

  C U SOON

  I let out a huge sigh.

  “That was him, I take it.” Kristine bats her eyelashes.

  I nod.

  “Okay, sis, let’s get to work on you.”

  By the time Kristine is done with me, I look maybe the best I ever have. She flat-ironed my hair poker straight. She does it much better than me because she can reach all those crazy underparts without breaking her neck. I have on a comfy cotton white camisole and Kristine’s turquoise velvet blazer over it. Even though I would have bought a smaller size, it will do since I’m wearing it unbuttoned over something. I have on my favorite jeans and these darling black boots with stitching and three-inch heels. The extra height won’t hurt with Noah. I soften the whole ensemble with a turquoise and black silk paisley scarf tied around my head like a headband.

  I brush my teeth and gargle — fresh breath is a must — and spritz on Burberry perfume. I spin in the mirror for Kristine.

  “You’re smoldering.” She nods, approvingly. “Some of my best work.”

  I laugh.

  “Now I’ve got to do my actual best work. You’re not the only one with a date tonight.” She walks into the bathroom and turns on the water.

  I retreat to my bedroom and close the door. I sit on my bed in the rare silence of the house. My iPod is turned off, Kristine’s in the shower, Dad’s not due back from his business trip until late tonight, and Mom’s downstairs. I breathe in and breathe out, trying to relax.

  Dear Jesus, Thank You for bringing Noah into my life. He makes me feel so good about myself. He is funny and charming, and I’m so thankful he’s a Christian. I’ve been asking You what I should do about boys, and I think he’s the answer You’ve sent me. Help me to be myself around him. Amen.

  I feel my shoulders relax after praying. I sit quietly, enjoying the calm.

  Ding dong.

  I’m so excited to see Noah. I don’t even look in the mirror again before walking downstairs. I’m halfway down when I hear his voice.

  “Hello, Mrs. Kraus, I’m Noah Hornung. Is Lindsey home?”

  My heart feels like the Grinch’s, growing several sizes. He is wooing my mother with manners.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Noah. Lindsey is expecting you. Won’t you come in?”

  I reach the landing just as he enters.

  “Hi.” I smile, not knowing exactly what to do.

  “Hi.” He looks me up and down, but not in a wolf kind of way, more in a he-likes-the-way-I-look way, then taps the DVD case. “I think you’re going to like this one.”

  “You two go on back to the family room. I’ll make some popcorn.” Mom takes off, leaving us alone.

  “You look awesome!” He raises his eyebrows.

  “Thanks.” I turn around, a little embarrassed but completely flattered. It was just the reaction I was hoping for! I lead him into the family room, where he heads straight to the DVD player.

  “So, what did you bring?” I ask.

  “The Mighty Ducks!” He grins goofily.

  “The Mighty Ducks?” I look at him blankly.

  “Sure, if you’re going to be a hockey groupie, you need to see this movie. It is the ultimate feel-good hockey flick.” He slides the shiny disc into the player. “You picked funny.” He grabs the remote and plops down onto the couch. He pats the spot next to him for me to sit.

  “Hockey groupie?” I say, pretending to be offended as I lower myself on the couch. I recognize the clean scent of Tide. His mom must use the same detergent as mine. His thigh touches my thigh. He feels so warm.

  He looks away from the screen and into my eyes. Our faces are so close he could kiss me. “Anyone who attends a scrimmage is being sucked into the wonderful world of skates and pucks.”

  “Or, they’re falling for one of the hockey players,” I retort, maintaining his gaze. I’m amazed by my bravery, but this flirting game is exhilarating. We’re both putting ourselves out there a little. I can’t wait to hear his reply.

  “Then, maybe you won’t be a groupie.” The corners of his lips curl in a sly grin. “Maybe you’ll be a hockey girlfriend.”

  “I hope you like lots of butter,” says Mom, placing the big blue ceramic popcorn bowl on the coffee table in front of us.

  “Yum! Thanks, Mrs. Kraus,” Noah says, scooping out a big handful. As the kernels fall into his mouth, he winks at me, somehow sealing our conversation.

  “You’re welcome.” Mom looks at me and raises her eyebrows in approval. “Lindsey, I’ll let you get drinks. I didn’t know what you two wanted.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  I stand up. My body temperature drops ten degrees, and I’m able to breathe more easily. “What’s your poison?” I ask. “Diet Coke, water, Gatorade?”

  “Gatorade.” Noah nods, watching the screen. “Hurry, though. The previews are almost over, and you don’t want to miss anything.”

  I roll my eyes and disappear into the kitchen. Girlfriend. He definitely said girlfriend. Does that mean he already thinks I’m his girlfriend or that I just might be able to pass the test and move up to girlfriend status? I can count all of our conversations on one hand, yet it’s like he knows exactly how to make me smile and says exactly what I want him to say, and it’s all so natural, not rehearsed like some of the guys in Kristine’s group.

  I take a sip of Diet Coke. The sweet bubbles tickle my tongue.

  “Soda?” Kristine laughs as she traipses through the kitchen in a see-through, ruffly blouse, painted-on jeans, and my new patent-leather ankle boots. “How cute. Anyway, I figured the jacket for the boots was a fair trade.” She points to her feet. “Okay?”

  “Sure.” I can’t argue, but I haven’t even worn my boots yet. They were my last purchase at the mall yesterday. I pour orange Gatorade and listen to it crackle over ice cubes.

  I grab our glasses and head into the family room. Kristine stands in front of Noah, with that cheerleader smile on her lips.

  “I wish we could cheer for your hockey games,” she says and lowers her eyelashes. “I think it’s because hockey and basketball overlap, but still, all you boys banging into the glass, it would be, like, so much fun.”

  “Yeah, it would be great having you all ‘rah-rah’ for us.” He raises his left eyebrow.

  My insides freeze, like my blood is a Slushie, barely able to move through my veins.

  Kristine leans way over to grab a handful of popcorn. She lingers for a second longer than necessary — and then another. Even from where I’m standing, I know her shirt gapes, showing off her ample cleavage. I pull my eyes from her to Noah. His eyes are glued to her chest.

  My frozen insides do a three-sixty and start to boil. Why? She has the most popular boy in school. She said she didn’t even know who Noah was. Why would she do this to me?

  I force myself to walk forward. “Did I miss anything?”

  “Gotta run, kids.” Kristine smiles sweetly at me. “There’s a party at Wesley’s tonight. If you get bored with your movie, come and join us.” She looks back at Noah, pouts her lips, and slinks out to the garage, car keys jingling.

  “Like we would want to come,” I say under my breath.

  “Who’s Wesley?” Noah asks me.

  What if he wants to go? What if he wants to see more of Kristine? What if I’ve dissolved into my old, ugly self compared to the magic allure of my sister?

  “Her boyfriend,” I throw out like a line drive. Better to let Noah know he doesn’t stand a chance with her anyway.

  “Note to Lindsey,” he says, pushing the pause button, “please don’t ever flirt with other boys that way.” Noah shakes his head. “I want everyone to know you’re my girlfriend and definitely not available.” He
slides his arm around my shoulder, and in an instant everything is perfect. He doesn’t like Kristine. He likes me. He called me his girlfriend, and that strong, warm arm is protecting me from any harm that could ever come my way.

  “Promise,” I say, not able to verbalize the eddy of worries and relief and joy contained inside my heart.

  “Now,” he announces, “the moment we’ve all been waiting for.” He makes a drumroll sound with his tongue and pushes Play.

  For the next two hours, we laugh and cheer for the Ducks and Coach Bombay. We work our way through the whole bowl of popcorn and slurp down our drinks. We pause about two-thirds through to get ice cream. Mom roams in and out of the room, getting a magazine, refilling our drinks. I like that she’s around, but not intrusive.

  When the movie’s over and Mom’s said goodnight, we clean up our dishes in the kitchen. Noah puts his elbows on the island and leans forward. His cheeks are rosy and his white Henley shirt sits kind of crooked on his frame.

  “So, youth group tomorrow, Linds?”

  “I was planning on it, but I need to check with Emma.” I nod.

  “You seem to get there before me.” He stands and rubs his left hand through his hair. “Will you save me a seat?”

  “Promise,” I smile, thinking he doesn’t have to ask. My eyes will be stuck to the doors, counting the seconds until his arrival.

  “You’ve been doing a lot of promising tonight.” He takes a step closer to me.

  “Is that a bad thing?” I ask, feeling the air between us get smaller and denser.

  “It’s a great thing.”

  There is only an inch of air separating our bodies now, and it’s as thick as Jell-O.

  His head punches through the invisible barrier and brushes his lips against mine. My heart flutters like the eyelashes of a starlet. I close my eyes and breathe in his warm, somehow sweet scent. But then an alarm goes off in my head. I know what’s next, and I dread it. He’ll try to shove his tongue between my closed lips, slide his hands up my front, fumble for my zipper, as if I’d let him even touch it. That’s what they all do. But, none of that happens. He’s not like the others. He pulls his lips, sweet from the chocolate sauce on our sundaes, away from mine and straightens himself.

  “I’ve gotta go. I promised my parents I’d be home.” He pulls on his coat and takes my hand in his. My hand! As in old-fashioned hand holding! And he walks with me to the door.

  “You are officially initiated into the hockey girlfriend club.” He mock-knights me with his arm posing as the sword, tapping my shoulders and head.

  “Initiation was so easy, anyone could join,” I tease.

  “Oh, no, my dear, not anyone. Not anyone at all.” Noah backs up a step and looks at me. “You’re different, Lindsey.”

  And then, for one more split second, I’m a princess in a fairy tale. His mouth dances across mine, just long enough for me to feel its warmth, to taste its sweetness.

  “I — ,” I start to say, but don’t know what to say. I can’t say I love him. Saying “I like you” sounds trite.

  “You what?” He cocks his head.

  “I had a great time tonight,” I manage.

  “Lucky for you, there’s a Mighty Ducks 2 and 3.” He grins. “See ya.” And he opens the heavy front door with a loud squeak. He shoves his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and strolls down the driveway to the curb where he’s parked his black Honda Civic. I stand by the door watching him a minute, but he doesn’t glance back. Since I don’t want to look like a lunatic standing there, I close the door and lean against its solidness.

  I run upstairs and fire up my computer. I know it will take him a couple of minutes to get home, so I try to take my time getting ready for bed. I carefully hang Kristine’s blazer back in her closet. I rezip my boots once they’re off to hold their shape and put them in their place on my shoe rack. I brush and floss my teeth.

  How long has it been? Three minutes? Four? Not long enough.

  I wash and moisturize my face. I pull on comfy yoga pants and a soft tee to wear as pajamas. I finally allow myself to check the clock. Twelve minutes since Noah left.

  My fingers race to Facebook. There’s his picture. Wow! He’s so cute I could stare at it all day. Okay, his relationship status is “Single.” I try to reassure myself he might not even be online. I mean he’s barely been home. As I’m talking through all of the possibilities in my head, he shows up as an “Online Friend.”

  It’s freaky knowing that he’s on and I’m on and I can see what he’s doing, well sort of. I feel like Big Brother.

  Blip. I get a message in my e-mail box. “Noah said on Facebook that you two are in a relationship. We need you to confirm that you are, in fact, in a relationship with Noah Hornung.”

  My heart is like a frog’s expanding throat, about to burst.

  No-brainer. I click on the message and instinctively confirm.

  Click.

  It’s done. It’s official. Now the whole world can see what my heart feels.

  I get an IM.

  u r so much more than a groupE.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Emma’s mom is late. I stand in the hallway near the front door. I flick on the bathroom light and reapply my lip gloss. I unzip my black puffy vest to see which way looks best. Zipped. I look at my watch again.

  Beep! Beep!

  Even though I’ve been waiting for them, the sound of the horn startles me, and I drop my lip gloss lid.

  The tension in their Jeep is thick. Emma and her mom have clearly been fighting, so I don’t mention that we’re running late or that I’m supposed to be saving a seat for Noah. In fact, I don’t say a word and neither do either of them the whole way to youth group. Getting out of the car is a relief, like someone’s taken a gag out of my mouth.

  “What happened in there?” I ask as the Jeep zooms away.

  “Mom completely forgot she was taking us tonight and acted like I was so selfish because I expected her to take me to church, which by the way she agreed to last week!” Emma shakes her head. “It’s church for crying out loud! I didn’t ask her to take me to the mall!” Emma yanks open the barn door, and the vibrations of the electric guitar jamming “Jesus Freak” rush at us. “She is such a case,” Emma mutters.

  I scan the room. Where is he? Then I see the back of Noah’s messed-up hair. He’s wearing an untucked red-and-black-checked flannel shirt and faded jeans. He and his friends are singing and elbowing each other and definitely aren’t on the lookout for us.

  Emma starts weaving her way through the crowd toward some open seats.

  “Can we sit by Noah?” I ask, a little embarrassed.

  “Whatever,” Emma grunts, “if there’s even room.”

  I didn’t mean to upset her or seem insensitive to her fight with her mom. We just need to find a seat, and we really can’t talk about her fight over the singing, and I’d already promised Noah. Noah and his friends stand in front of the biggest couch. There are four of them. I honestly don’t know if there’s room on the couch with all their sprawling hockey bodies. It’s impossible to tell while they’re standing. What if we get over there and there’s no place to sit? I’d look like a fool in front of Noah and his friends and make Emma even angrier. I feel all yuck inside like I’ve spilled grape juice on a gorgeous new white blouse.

  When we’re an arm’s length from the couch, Noah grabs my arm and Emma’s arm and pulls us to either side of him. “Hey, ladies,” he whispers, “thanks for saving us these great seats.” He winks at Emma, who actually smiles back at him. He’s truly a miracle worker to pull Emma out of one of her funks.

  We sing two more songs. I’m self-conscious next to Noah. One, I have a horrible voice. Emma sounds like she’s on MTV, so I just kind of sing quietly and let her voice fill in all my flats and sharps. Two, some people get more into it than others, and I don’t know how seriously Noah takes all of this. I mean, he’s here every week, but where does he stand with Christ? For that matter, where do I s
tand with Christ?

  Pastor Ed takes the microphone from the lead singer. He’s tall and thin with pale skin and wavy, sand-colored hair. He has bushy eyebrows and big, round, green eyes that kind of make him look like a Muppet when he gets going.

  “Thanks, guys.” He nods to the band. “Thanks for getting the crowd warmed up, because tonight we’re going to talk about a really hot topic.” He looks around the room for dramatic effect. “Sex.”

  It is as quiet in this barn as that house in ’Twas the Night Before Christmas.

  “That’s right, folks, I said, sex!” Ed looks around the room.

  I look down. I know I’m blushing. This is too embarrassing! How can I sit next to Noah while a sex talk takes place?

  “I feel like a bad comedian who’s just told his biggest bomb.” Ed laughs. And it’s true. The room is silent. Everyone is looking anywhere but the stage. I don’t know if the crowd is more uncomfortable for themselves or for Ed having to stand up there and talk about sex.

  I become aware of things I haven’t noticed before, like the room smells like cleaning supplies and sweat, and there’s a slight hum from the amplifier that the guitarist hasn’t turned off all the way.

  “I told you it was hot.”

  A few nervous giggles bounce from different corners of the room.

  “I’m sure you all know by now about the birds and the bees.”

  Peter makes a buzzing sound and flies his fingers to land on Noah’s shoulder.

  “But, do you really know God’s plan for you and sex?” Ed takes a sip from his bottled water. “Yes, I said ‘God’ and ‘sex’ and ‘you’ all in the same sentence. You see, God invented sex. So, as dirty and scandalous and embarrassing and forbidden and taboo as we like to think sex is, it is actually a beautiful, amazing gift from God.” He walks around the stage.

  I sense guys all around the room nudging each other. My eyes are glued to Ed’s feet, which happen to be wearing beat-up Converse high-tops.

  “This does not mean having sex at will is okay. As with most truly great gifts, sex comes with an instruction manual.” Ed looks around the room. His eyes hone in on a white-haired kid with a silver hoop in his nose, wearing a black T-shirt.