star of the football and basketball teams. He was new to school and already ostracized. The romantic moment was ruined.

I looked at the text message. “It’s Ivy. She’s almost at my house.”

Reluctantly, we headed to the picnic tables and replaced our skates with our shoes.

“Hey, thanks for the brownies,” he said, walking me to my car.

“Thanks for the skate.” This was a moment when Brandon could kiss me. But his dog was barking, we were in plain view of his house, and I noticed a woman with brown hair peeking out from the front curtain. Then my cell phone rang again. I silenced it.

He opened the door for me. “Thanks for coming out to the sticks,” he teased.

“This place is great,” I assured him. “You have your own ice-skating rink. No one I know can say that.”

As I drove off, Brandon stood by the driveway with two pairs of skates in his hand. I watched him, reflected in my rearview mirror, until I turned the corner away from his house and he was out of view.

Brandon and I stole a few passing glances the next day at school but nothing more than that. I was dying to grab his hand when I saw him by his locker, like I had when we were skating, but I didn’t possess the courage. Instead, I just daydreamed about him throughout each class and wrote his name in every one of my notebooks — in an out-of-the-way spot so my friends couldn’t see. After school I was at Ivy’s, working on our English essays, when my cell phone rang. It wasn’t a ring tone I was familiar with — not Abby’s, Nash’s, or my parents’.

It was Frank Sinatra’s voice singing “Fly Me to the Moon.”

“Who is that?” Ivy asked.

Brandon’s name appeared. How could that be? Then it hit me; he must have added his name to my contact list when he found my phone in the woods.

I swept up the phone and covered it with my sleeve before Ivy had a chance to see it.

Frank kept singing.

“You better answer it and tell them they have the wrong number. Otherwise, they’ll keep calling.” My phone number was one digit off from a local radio station’s. I’d been receiving calls from listeners requesting songs or dialing in for a contest, but I’d been too lazy to change my number.

I wanted to talk to Brandon so badly. I was dancing on the inside. I quickly answered before he hung up. “Hello?” I said.

“They’re all gone,” he said in a deep voice.

“What?” I asked.

“The brownies? They’re all gone. Even the crumbs.”

“Who is it?” Ivy asked.

“I think it’s a wrong number,” I whispered. The lie jumped out of my mouth before I had the chance to stop it.

“Only you’d answer them!” Ivy shouted. “Tell them they might have won if they dialed the right number for a change!”

“I’d like to give you back the pan. And your scarf,” Brandon said.

I paused. What did that mean? A date?

“What are they asking?” Ivy asked.

“Or… I can sell them on eBay,” he teased. “I’m sure they would get a lot since they belong to you.”

I laughed.

“Why are you laughing at them? Are they requesting a song?” Ivy asked.

“Are you going to the game tonight?” Brandon asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Are you?”

“Why are you asking them questions?” Ivy asked.

I imagined Brandon approaching me at the game with my mom’s brownie pan and my scarf. The ref would whistle and the game would stop. The players and fans would leer in horror. Ivy and Abby would fold their arms in disgust.

“No, I have work to do,” he finally said.

“You work?”

“Tell them to get back to their job before their boss notices they’re listening to the radio instead of working,” Ivy said. “You don’t have to be so polite.”

“There’s a lot of upkeep around here and I help out my grandparents,” he said.

Wow, I thought. That was kind of like when I volunteered at the nursing home. Brandon was putting his grandparents’ needs in front of his own.

“But feel free to swing by here if you get a chance,” he continued. “I’ll be here.”

I didn’t say anything.

“If not, I’ll get them to you later.”

I didn’t want to hang up. I wanted to talk to him forever. Even with Ivy in the room and my juggling antics, I was so happy to have Brandon on the phone. There was so much I wanted to know about him — so many things I couldn’t ask now. And the one question that burned inside of me — what was it like to be kissed by him?

“I appreciate you calling,” I finally said.

“Enough is enough.” She grabbed the phone. “Would you like me to call your cell phone and request a song? Never call this number again.”

She hung up the phone.

I was in shock.

“That’s what you should have said from the beginning.”

For the next few hours, I tried my best to focus on my essay about werewolves. But I couldn’t help but let my thoughts wander to the wolves I’d met a few days ago, and how I was lucky even to be able to finish a complete sentence, all because of Brandon’s heroic nature.

Since the Heidi Rosen fiasco at Nash’s party, he and I were “off.” However, that didn’t keep my friends from dragging me to the basketball game and expecting reconciliation.

There were a lot of reasons to like Nash. He was handsome, athletic, and popular. He had enough money to do whatever a girl dreamed of — except he’d only do it if it was his dream, too. But instead of planning a possible reunion, my mind was focused on Brandon working at his house while all of us cheered for the Wolverines. I was so drawn to Brandon, I could think of nothing else.

“Maybe we should have a hockey team,” I said to Ivy.

“We have enough problems raising funds to maintain football and basketball,” she replied. “Now you want to build a hockey rink?”

“Not everyone likes those sports,” I defended.

“Are you serious?” Ivy asked. “Who do you know in this town that doesn’t?”

“Where did you get that idea?” Abby asked. “I’d like to play hockey. Only I’d want a pink uniform.”

A few minutes later, Nash made a great three-point shot. The crowd rose to their feet and cheered, but I didn’t budge.

“What’s wrong with you tonight?” Abby said. “It’s like you’re not really here.”

In fact, I was thinking about being somewhere else — somewhere that didn’t have cheerleaders and screaming fans. Brandon’s house wasn’t too far away from school, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt anyone if I just popped over and retrieved my things. I’d be back before the game was even over. My friends wouldn’t miss me. The game was so riveting to them, it didn’t matter who was sitting by them. Additionally, Brandon had wanted to return my items to me tonight, and if I hadn’t already had plans, I might be there helping him out. Since Ivy hung up on Brandon, I was convinced he’d never call again. If I missed this chance, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get another.

“I have to go,” I said to Ivy.

“What do you mean? Nash is tearing up the court. You can’t miss it!”

“I have to be somewhere.”

“Where else could you be?”

“I’ll be back soon. I promise.”