Page 3 of The Seemingly Impossible Love Life of Amanda Dean

Even though Mandy had thought the water would be too cold to stroll in, they switched off subjecting their feet to the frigid water, turning their toes into ice cubes, filling buckets from the incoming tide to complete their project.

“Making a man of sand is a lot different than making one out of snow,” Mandy babbled on. “For one thing snow is a lot colder, and you have to wear gloves. Maybe we should bring gloves with us next time we do this. And if the snow is too wet or too dry,it doesn’t really work. And you can’t just add water like we can here.” She loved making a snowman with her parents almost every winter when they took trips to go skiing pretty much anywhere white stuff fell from the sky—Switzerland, Colorado, Canada, Italy, and of course Tahoe for quick weekend getaways. Isa nodded along like she knew what Mandy was saying even though Isa had never seen snow herself.

“Maybe your mom will let you come with us next week.” Mandy patted down a clump of wet sand on their second mound and smoothed out the side. Not that there would be any snow this time of year, but there were other fun things to do in Lake Tahoe, and it would be cool to hang out with someone other than her parents while she was there.

Isa chewed her lip. “Maybe.” That meant the likelihood was slim, but there could always be a chance. The truth was, Isa never liked to leave her mom and abuela for very long—this was something Mandy knew well. While she was like a bird ready to spread her wings and fly, Isa was more like a rabbit. She was curious about the world but never liked to stray too far from home. Mandy had slept over at Isa’s at least a dozen times before Isa ever slept over at Mandy’s. The first time she didn’t even make it all the way through the night, Mandy waking to an empty bed and Mom telling her Isa had gone home but that she would be back for breakfast. The second time Isa got lost coming back from the bathroom—luckily Mandy got impatient and went looking for her. It of course got better with each visit, but it was clear Isa preferred her own casita—that’s what Isa called it.

Mandy really liked spending time at Isa’s too. At Mandy’s house she always had to wear socks or slippers, otherwise her feetwould get cold, but at Isa’s it was always warm and cozy. Abuela always had something delicious cooking and ready for taste testing—which Mandy loved to do. It was a well-established fact that no one volunteered to taste test Mom’s cooking. It was pretty bad—okay, it was awful. Nothing had any flavor. At least not the way Abuela’s food did. It wasn’t as if Mandy didn’t like her own house; there was just something special about being at Isa’s. Mom and Dad were always busy, and Abuela always had time to do things with them.

The wind along the shore started to pick up, blowing sand into Mandy’s eyes. She pulled the sleeve of her hoodie over her hand to wipe her face, and when she glanced up, there he was. Brandon Martínez. He and Clay Anderson tossed a football back and forth not far from where Mandy and Isa were getting ready to put the head on their sandman. Brandon’s dark brown hair and bronze skin seemed to shimmer in the late afternoon sun. Or, at least, he shimmered to Mandy. Brandon was the only boy in her class who had dimples—one in each cheek—and every time he smiled, they sucked in, in the most adorable way.

As though Isa already knew what Mandy was thinking, she said, “Ugh, please don’t invite them over here.”

“Come on, they aren’t that bad,” Mandy retorted. But they were. Most boys in the sixth grade were just…different. Like for some reason they needed to show off, and they thought being rude was funny, and when they ran around a lot, they smelled kind of peppery. But Brandon—even though that described him perfectly—had those amazing dimples.

Mandy had heard all about the “talk” Isa got about boys. It sounded embarrassing and awkward. Mandy was glad her parentsnever sat her down the way Isa’s mom did. But ever since then, Isa had been way too cautious; and where was the fun in that?

“We don’t have a lot of time before we have to get back. And we can’t leave Sandman here without a face,” Isa rationalized, but a rogue football toss had Brandon and Clay already heading their way. Isa huffed, but Mandy ignored it.

“Hey,” she said as she scooped up the ball. She didn’t throw it back though. Mandy had no idea how to throw a football, and she wasn’t about to embarrass herself by trying for the first time in front of Brandon.

“Hey,” Brandon said back, but Mandy heard,Wow, it’s so good to see you. It was finally happening. The cute boy with the dimples was taking notice of her, Amanda Elizabeth Dean. This was one of those moments in the movies her mom watched, the meet-cute that indicated the two characters were meant to be. And it was happening to Mandy, ontodayof all days, her first day of independence.

Heat rose in Mandy’s cheeks as she passed him the ball, swooped her ponytail over her shoulder, and ran her fingers through her wind-tangled blonde hair.

“Are you making a snowman out of sand?” Clay asked.

“Well, we can’t make one out of snow.” Isa didn’t roll her eyes, but everything in her voice said she really wanted to.

“Cool.” Clay seemed oblivious to Isa’s annoyance. He didn’t know her the way Mandy did.

“Yeah, great.” Brandon nodded.

“I think I saw some driftwood back there you could use as arms.” Clay pointed.

“We’re supposed to be practicing.” Brandon spun the ball onhis hand. Did pro football players do that? Mandy bet they did. It looked so cool.

“We have to leave soon anyway,” Isa said.

“Then we should help you finish,” Clay said as he scooped a handful of wet sand from near Isa’s feet and added it to their creation. “I think that’s, like, a rule of sand building.”

That rule didn’t exist—Mandy was sure of it—but Clay’s braces-filled smile made her not want to argue. Clay wasn’t like most of the sixth-grade boys. This was probably the most Mandy had ever heard him say at one time, actually. Isa looked like she’d eaten a rotten tomato.

Brandon grimaced. “Fine. I’ll go get the stupid wood.” He dropped the ball and turned to head down the beach.

“I’ll help.” Mandy caught up to him. This was her chance to hang out withtheBrandon Martínez.

He kicked the sand and flipped his hair out of his face as they walked toward the water, with the salty air growing thick around them. Brandon always wore the newest Air Jordans, but today he was barefoot, and somehow his feet were flawless. Unlike Mandy, whose toenail polish was beyond chipped—a couple of toes didn’t even have any polish left. What was Mandy thinking? Sure, she’d been paired up with kids she didn’t really know all that well for class projects, but this wasBrandon Martínez, and there were no grades at stake, no instructions to discuss or tasks to distribute. What was she supposed to say? How was she supposed to act? How did the characters move on from the meet-cute in the movies?

That’s when she noticed his T-shirt.

“I can’t believe they traded Piazza.” Given the amount of time Dad had spent bemoaning the trade, it felt like a pretty safe thing to kick off an actual conversation with.

Brandon’s head pivoted in her direction. “Youlike the Dodgers?”

She wouldn’t say shehatedthe Dodgers, but technically she wasn’t exactly a fan. If she was being truthful, she didn’t care one way or the other about baseball or about going to the ballpark with Dad. She loved the snacks and the people watching, but she didn’t pay much attention to the actual game. “My dad’s company has a box, so we go all the time.” To Mandy’s ears this sounded like the dumbest thing to say, but from the way those dimples in Brandon’s cheeks made an appearance, it must’ve been good. Mandy’s heart fluttered.

“Really? Do you ever get to take people with you?” Brandon asked.

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