“Fine,” I say, and she turns to go. Finally.

She’s almost out of sight, then stops, turns back, and says, “Check the back stoop.”

“Huh?”

“There’s something on the back stoop,” she repeats before walking away.

Oh, that’s great. The first thing I think of is one of those metal bear traps that snap on your ankle if you step on it.

I look carefully at the ground with each step, remembering that she knows I always have bare feet. Does she want me to end up with nails in my feet?

I hear a high squeak as I approach the stoop. And scratching, too. All coming from a cardboard box. I leap five feet in one step and carefully open the top.

I never thought I’d be one of those people who cry at weddings and stuff. It made no sense to me to cry when you’re happy—but I understand it now. In the darkening light, I can see a ball of bright white fur. Then I make out the pink nose. I scoop up my kitten—my very own kitten—into my arms. “It’s you, Boots!” I squeal.

Finally. Someone I’ve lost that I’ve gotten back.

Chapter 42

TO REVEAL A SECRET

Running down the wooden steps at Seaside, I see Ronan at the water’s edge. It reminds me of the day I first saw him. Standing with his feet in the surf in the middle of a lightning storm.

That first day I saw him, I never would have thought we could be friends. Thinking about how wrong I was makes me stop in my tracks for a second and stare at him.

Then I run toward him and leap into the air. I land right next to him. “Hey, what’s up?”

He looks at me with such a smile. A smile I’ve never seen on him. Like his whole body is contributing.

“What?” I ask.

“What?” he answers back.

“Don’t give me that. You look like you won the lottery or something.”

“Huh. Maybe . . . maybe I did. Or I will.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

“Not yet. I can’t.”

I sigh. I refuse to beg him. “Fine, then.”

He turns away as if he’s trying to hide his smile. And my insides begin to argue. One side saying it reminds me of Tressa and Brandy and how they’d make a joke of me. And the other part telling me that Ronan would never do that. I know he’d never do that. He isn’t someone to just watch me eat a sandwich. But I don’t like not knowing what is going on.

He must be able to tell it bothers me. “It’s a surprise.”

“Oh no. I hate surprises,” I blurt out. “That’s one of the reasons I love my Weather Channel. I like to know what’s coming.”

“But how can anyone hate surprises?”

“Well, not all surprises are good ones,” I say, but then I think about my new kitten—finally, a nice surprise.