Tim is 16 years old the first time he sees her.
For two days, he’s sat on his bed and watched the moving truck unload up the street. Maybe he’ll get lucky, he’d thought, when he saw that the Danielson’s house sold. He’s still mad that Trevor had to move away – to Illinois, of all places – for his dad’s job. But maybe the new neighbors will have a kid his age, a guy he can ride his bike with, down at the old dirt track that’s been carved out from years of teenagers trying to teach themselves BMX tricks.
But then the movers leave, and there’s a family of three behind where the truck had been.
And it’s some little kid, her hair tied up in pigtails, standing between her parents and waving as the truck disappears around the corner.
He rolls his eyes and flops back against the pillow.
At least he’s not Trevor, but this is going to suck.
A few weeks later, his sister starts bringing the new kid over to play. Her name is Lucy, apparently, and she’s 8 years old, just like Genny. Or so she tells him when she shakes his hand the first time he stumbles across them in the driveway. They’re sprawled out across the pavement, drawing lopsided flowers with sidewalk chalk, until Gen looks up and grins at him.
“Timmy! Lucy, this is my big brother, Timmy. Timmy, this is Lucy. She’s new. She’s my friend.”
“My name is Lucy Chen,” she scrambles to her feet and drags her palms down her legs, leaving pastel colored streaks across her jeans. “I’m 8 years old, and my family just moved to our new house. The old house was here too, but this is closer to my dad’s new work. He’s a doctor. My mom too. But not like for stomachaches. They’re puh-skych-psy-” she stumbles over the word, and Tim hardly keeps himself from rolling his eyes. “Um, brain doctors.”
Lucy sticks her hand out for Tim to shake. He takes it reluctantly.
“I’m Tim. Don’t call me Timmy,” he mutters. He glares at Genny, but she’s gone back to the stick-figure unicorn she’s coloring. He’s told her again and again, Timmy is a little kid’s name. He’s a man now, the man of the house since his dad isn’t around anymore.
“OK,” Lucy shrugs and drops back onto the concrete.
At that, Tim does roll his eyes. Not that it matters, because they’re not looking at him anymore. Not that they should be; they’re little kids, and they don’t need to bother themselves with his business. He runs around the side of the house and pulls his bike out of the bushes. It’s rolling down the driveway before he jumps on, pedals spinning before his feet start pushing them forward. He stands up, leaning forward over the handlebars as he pushes himself around the corner toward Mike’s house.
Read the rest of chapter one here!
