What is This Feeling?

Part 1

"SO IF YOU CARE TO FIND ME!" My best friend Hazel belts out in the majestic singing voice of hers.

"LOOK TO THE WESTERN SKIES!" I cry out, with my not-so-pretty singing voice.

"AS SOMEONE TOLD ME LATELY, EVERYONE DESERVES A CHANCE TO FLY!" We both sing together, her soprano and my alto.

We burst out giggling at our pitchyness, falling back onto my bed.

"Seriously Hazel, you should go on The Voice or something, you're incredible!" I tell her, my eyes all wide for emphasis.

"Jules, you know that isn't really my type of scene," she says blushing. "I appreciate the compliment though!"

Let's rewind. My name is Juliette, but you can call me Julia. I'm 12 years old and in the summer between 6th and 7th grade. My best friend, Hazel, is also 12 years old and in the summer between 6th and 7th grade. Hazel has everything I don't, golden eyes, caramel skin, and short brown hair that brushes her shoulders as she sings. I on the other hand have tannish skin, with bright green eyes and long wavy brown hair. We're opposites, which makes us fit perfectly together!

"Girls! Dinner!" My mom shouts from downstairs.

"I should probably go," Hazel says hesitantly.

"Oh, come on! We're having your favorite!" I say teasingly, knowing she'll end up staying.

"Hmm," She says smiling, tapping her finger against her cheek as if thinking about it. "Ok!" She flashes that beautiful smile at me and runs downstairs, leaving me upstairs with butterflies in my stomach.

Why am I having butterflies? I think to myself. It's just Hazel.

"It's about time, Lottie," My mom tells me as she places her famous pesto pasta in front of me.

"Sorry mom, I got... Distracted." I say, trailing off after a quick glance at Hazel.

I shake my head, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach and twirl my pasta on my fork. I was just about to put it in my mouth when a flash of red snatches it and runs around the table.

"Henry! Hudson! Give it back!" I yell, chasing them around the table.

Henry and Hudson are my 8 year old redhead twin brothers, also known as the Identical Idiots.

"Henry and Hudson Molina give your sister her fork back this instant!" My mother warns them, shooting a glare in their direction.

They mumble about her ruining their fun but they give it back, only after they cover the pasta in their God-knows what.

I get up and wash the fork, giving the rest of my pasta to my brothers and go back upstairs. After 15 minutes I hear the front door slam and know that Hazel has left. I get a picture of us out and stare at her. Her golden eyes, caramel skin. The funny face she's making.

I feel the butterflies in my stomach flap harder.

What is this feeling, so sudden and new?