Page 1 of Between the Flames

PROLOGUE

“Eloise! Sweetheart! Noah is here!” my mom screams over the re-run of The Price is Right which is on the highest possible volume setting in our living room. I hardly hear her over the sound of the Plinko chips bouncing down the board and the excited shriek of the woman on TV. This is my every day. My mother always leaves the TV on loud so that she can hear it from wherever she is in the house while she obsessively cleans. The cleaning has become an obsession for her, one that she adopted shortly after she and my father finalized their divorce. A coping mechanism, her therapist called it, but what the therapist didn’t know was that it completely took over her life. If my mother wasn’t cleaning, she was at work, but the moment she stepped through the threshold of our modest little house tucked in the middle of Shadow Hills suburbia, the cleaning began.

Our house is probably the cleanest house I’ve ever been in. Like clockwork, she’d arrive home from work, push play on the DVR’d ThePrice is Right, and I’d have to listen to Drew Carey yell “Come on down!” to the next contestant. I miss the days when it was Bob on the TV. He was always my favorite.

As the blood rushes to my head from my oh-so-comfortable upside-down position of hanging off my bed, I hear the telltale sound of Noah rushing up the stairs as he stomps into my room. A fit of laughter bubbles out of him as he throws open my bedroom door, takes aim with a Nerf gun right at my forehead, and pulls the bright orange trigger. The rubber end of the foam bullet pings me right between the eyes and bounces off, landing on the ground. With a smooth somersault off the back of the bed, I land perfectly at his feet.

Okay, I actually fell into a heap after rolling sideways and falling onto my side, but whatever. Noah is laughing at me so hard I can witness a single tear escape his right eye, and I use his blurred vision to my advantage by shooting my legs out and swinging them hard to sweep him off of his feet. Victory is mine when he comes crashing to the floor in a pile alongside of me.

“You turd,” he chuckles. “I totally got you, though!” My eyes roll in defiance as I use my index finger to push my glasses back up the bridge of my nose.

“Yeah, yeah,” I drawl, “what do you want to do today?”

It’s our last day of summer vacation before we start our freshman year at Shadow Hills High. I’m so nervous that I’ve felt perpetually nauseated for the last two weeks, and I think I am developing a problem with overactive armpit sweat. That’s a thing, right?

“I don’t know. My Ma says I have to be home early tonight though. She wants me home for dinner and says I need to get ready for tomorrow. Not sure what I need to get ready for; my backpack is ready to go, and it’s not like we have homework already.”

I can hear the irritation in his voice. He’s tired of his mom treating him like he’s still a little kid. I’ve tried to reason with him, but he doesn’t want to hear it. He wants his freedom.

“That’s cool.” I keep my tone light, not letting my indifference show. I wish he would be less hard on his mom. She’s absolutely amazing. “Why don’t we walk down to get some ice cream and go hang out at the park? I feel nauseated again and could use the air.”

The word ice cream barely left my lips before Noah hopped to his feet and was pulling me to mine, dragging me through my house.

“Mom! We’re leaving!” I yell just before the door slams shut behind us. I doubt she heard me over the insufferably loud TV, but it’s not uncommon for Noah and I to leave and go walk around the neighborhood.

Our departure wouldn’t worry her, so long as we’re back before dark. I’m not even sure Mom notices our coming and going most of the time, not when she’s so busy scrubbing the already pristine surfaces.

Looping my arm through Noah’s, we walk the eight blocks to our favorite ice cream spot and order our usual.

After buying our ice cream, we double back toward my house, stopping at the park. It was still early in the day, but we had it all to ourselves—just the way we liked it. I let my feet drag in the wood chips as I sat on the swing, drifting back and forth, basking in the warmth of the late afternoon sun. I used my spoon to poke at my half melted ice cream, not really interested in finishing it.

Neither of us was saying much, and the sound of the swing’s rusty creaking chains filled the air as we lazily glided back and forth. My shoe scuffed on the ground as I slowed to a stop, suddenly feeling uneasy. There was a tension in the air, and my skin prickled, heightening my senses. I glanced over at Noah, and my eyes met his.

“What’s up, No?” I ask hesitantly. The look he was giving me sent alarm bells ringing through my brain. He’d never looked at me like this before—something was on his mind.

Without saying a word, he slid off his swing and walked over to the trash can, tossing the rest of his cone inside. I studied him as he approached me with a conflicted look on his face, opening and closing his mouth twice. Running his long fingers through his sandy brown hair, he stared at the ground and toed at a rock. Everything felt awkward. The urge to do something with my hands compelled me to pick at a piece of lint on my jeans while I waited for the moment to pass.

“Okay. This is going to sound stupid, but I’m just going to spit it out,” he finally said, and I felt my heart pick up its pace. I looked up from my lap, meeting his gaze.

“Look Elle, you and I have been friends for, like, what, thirty years now?”

I snorted. Typical Noah, always trying to lighten every situation with a joke.

“It’s just that we’re about to start high school and neither of us has had our first kiss yet.”

My eyes widen, suddenly terrified of where he was going with this.

“I don’t want to start school without being able to say I’ve kissed someone. It’s stupid, and you don’t have to say yes, but I kinda wanted to know if I could kiss you so we can both just say we’ve been kissed and we don’t have to risk kissing the nasty band geek with a face full of zits and spinach in their teeth.” Noah had rushed through that so fast, he needed to take a second to breathe, his chest rising and falling in uneven pants. I was frozen in place, unable to respond.

“What do you say, Elle? Can I kiss you?”

I was confident what I was experiencing was an out-of-body experience. I could see Noah standing in front of me, see the pleading look in his eyes and the embarrassment coating his cheeks, but what really took me by surprise is that I could hear myself responding, “Yes.”

I had just agreed to kiss my best friend.

I.

Just.

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