10 years old
If you grew up in Magnolia Hills and hadn’t heard the love story of Amelia Allister and Zander Knight, then chances were, you had been living under a rock your entire life. Or you may have been someone who was gossiped about, rather than leading the gossip trend. Zander and Amelia were said to be destined to be together forever. They were the couple of the century, rivaling every great love story ever written, easily putting all love poems to shame. The town believed it, my grandfather believed it, and, of course, I, Amelia Allister, believed it.
I could feel it deep inside that my ten-year-old heart would forever beat faster anytime Zander was near me. I didn’t mind that our grandfathers were planning to marry us off someday, even after I heard one of Grandpa’s maids call it, ‘too conventional,’ ‘barbaric’ or refer to the wedding as ‘a chauvinistic ritual from the 1800s.’ I never once doubted the love I had for Zander. In my eyes, we were always going to end up together. Arranged or not.
On the day of my parents’ funeral, I’ll never forget looking up into his beautiful eyes, warm, like butterscotch candies. Too gold to be hazel, but too light to be considered brown. Even at thirteen, he already towered over me. I was so embarrassed when he found me under a willow tree bawling my eyes out, my heart aching over the death of my parents, but Zander didn’t judge me. He sat down next to me, on the stone bench, and slung his arm around my shoulders.
“Do you need me to hold your hand?”
“Why would you hold my hand?” I ask between tiny sobs.
Zander shrugs. “I don’t know. My dad used to hold my mom’s hand when she cried.”
I feel my cheeks turn pink, and my tears start to slow. No boy has ever tried to hold my hand before, but I wanted Zander to. When I reach my hand out, he takes it. His skin is smooth and warm, making me self-consciously aware of how cold and clammy my own is. To be fair, I’ve been sitting out here since the funeral, not bothering to run back inside when it had started misting. Despite the warm southern California fall we were having, there was always a slight chill when the sun was setting. I hadn’t moved from my spot under the willow tree, though. I felt lost, broken and terrified. Up until a week ago, I had the perfect family. Parents who loved each other, who doted on my brother, York, and me. We took family vacations; we were planning to get a puppy for Christmas, and I had just won a junior competition in Magnolia Hill’s Annual Spelling Bee. The night of the accident, my parents were in a rush to get home, so they could take us out for ice cream to celebrate my victory. That was how they were. That was how much they loved York and me, even a spelling bee was worth rushing home to commemorate my win.
I turn my hand over in Zander’s and examine the darker coloring of his skin against mine. I liked how it looked and that feeling sent my stomach soaring with an unfamiliar feeling. I had met Zander a few times over the years. Every summer, my parents would vacation in Prague and send York and me to my grandparents. Since Zander sometimes stayed with his grandpa in Magnolia Hills as well, our paths would cross. This was the first time, though, that I had him to myself. The first time he sought me out on his own that didn’t have to do with him and York playing video games or running off to the baseball fields.
We stay that way for what seems like hours, until I stop crying, and that is how our grandfathers happen to find us. Zander’s grandfather, Arlo, works for my grandpa, and they also happened to be friends for many years. Their eyes gleam while they observe us and something zips across my heart at the same time. This moment right here is the catalyst that would forever change my life.
Our grandfathers excuse themselves and head to my grandpa’s study, where they spent the rest of the evening behind locked doors. Once all the guests are gone, York finds Zander and me. With my brother here, I suddenly feel embarrassed and quickly pull my hand away from Zander’s.
“Where have you two been? I was stuck listening to Ms. Beasley from down the road go on and on about her rose bushes,” York complains. Eventually, my eyes find Zander’s again, and I notice the little patches of red on his cheeks now too.
“Sorry, man,” Zander offers my brother with a shrug of his shoulders.
“I see you found Mia at least,” York sighs, “you two probably had more fun than I did.”
My hazel eyes lock on Zander. A moment passes between us, where my soul latches onto his. Those butterflies multiply by a million, making my blood sing and everything around us glow, and I wonder if he can feel it too.
