," I whisper aloud to myself, hoping it's not a boyfriend. Or worse, a husband. And why would I care, huh? The last thing I need right now is a distraction. Especially f

ng, so I force myself to look away. The boy notices my moment of distraction and takes advantage of it. He lets go and stabs me with an imaginary sword, and I look at the girl and mouth "help." She screams "brains" again and lunges forward, pretending to bite the top of Caulder's head. She tickles them until they both melt into the concrete floor of the driveway, then she stands up and laughs. Her cheeks flush as her eyes meet mine again, and her mouth twists in embarrassment, as if she's suddenly embarrassed. The embarrassment disappears as quickly as it came, replaced by a smile that makes me want to learn every single detail about her. "Hey, my name's Will," I say, holding out my hand to her. "We live across the street." She squeezes my hand. Hers is soft and cool, and the moment my fingers encircle it, the physical contact sends a jolt through me. I can't remember the last time a girl had such an immediate effect on me. It must be because I didn't get much sleep last night. "My name's Layken," she says, smiling again at the awkwardness. "I guess I live...here." She looks at the house behind her, then back at me. She doesn't look too happy about living "here." The same expression she had when she was sitting in the truck crosses her face, and suddenly her eyes are sad. Why does that look affect me so much? "Well, welcome to Ypsilanti," I say, desperately wanting the expression to go away. She looks down, and I realize with embarrassment that I'm still shaking her hand. So I quickly pull mine away and shove it in my coat pockets. "Where did you guys live?" "Texas?" she says. Why did she answer like it was a question? Did I ask a stupid question? Yes, I did. I'm making small talk, how stupid. "Texas, huh?" I say again. She shakes her head, but doesn't answer. Suddenly, I start to feel like a nosy neighbor. I don't know what to say without making the conversation even more awkward, so I figure the best thing to do is leave. I lean over, grab Caulder's feet, throw them over my shoulder, and tell her I need to drive him to school. "There's a cold front coming in tonight. You'd better get as