Clarity | TMFU

FIVE

I NEVER EXPECTED TO FALL IN LOVE AT SIXTEEN. I figured I wouldn't even have my first kiss until I went to college with a clean slate, where no one knew me. I never bothered having crushes on the few cute guys at my school — because I knew I was untouchable.

Not because I was ugly. I figured I wasn't hideous by the way the boys looked at me when the girls weren't watching: their sideways glances in the hallways, the casual peeks over their shoulders while they pretended to adjust their book bags. But none of them had the guts to stand up to mob mentality and date the freak.

Except Napoleon. He saw me with his own eyes, not through the judgment of others. He didn't care what the other kids thought or said. He didn't mind that I was different; in fact, he later told me it was what had attracted him to me in the first place.

One day last summer, he stopped by for a walk-in appointment, claiming he was curious about the whole "psychic" thing. But really, he'd been curious about me. He'd seen me in school and heard all the talk and instead of being freaked out, he'd thought it was cool. We started dating and by the end of the summer I was completely charmed by him. Places I'd been to a thousand times before — the beach, Yummy's, the movies — were much more fun with him. I'd never laughed so much in my life. Though I worried about what would happen when school started. But that was when I saw how brave he was. He stood up to anyone who taunted us and stayed by my side, even though it might have destroyed his own popularity.

But it seemed to have the opposite effect. The guys respected him, maybe for doing something they didn't have the courage to do. And the girls let up on me, for a little while. Don't get me wrong. I wasn't invited to parties or anything like that, but I wasn't tortured on a daily basis, either. It was the best time of my life.

But then everything changed.

Now Napoleon stood in our reading room, leaning up against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He was tall, with a wiry athletic build. Usually, he was Mr. Ultra-Casual, with sun-kissed black hair that he kept out of his eyes by pushing his sunglasses up on his forehead. Today, that messy black hair was clean-cut, and he'd traded his typical board shorts and loose T-shirt for a striped shirt and khakis. His father, the mayor of Eastport, was running for re-election. Since the campaign started last month, Napoleon had become the mayor's sixteen-year-old sidekick. I'd heard he was spending the summer working for his dad down at the town hall, which would explain the nice clothes. What sucked for me was that the new style fit him. He looked even better, the jerk.

"I heard you and Marianna got into a catfight over me at Yummy's," Napoleon announced with an overconfident grin that pissed me off.

I slammed the door behind me. "First off, I dumped a soda over her head. That was it."

"Damn, a catfight sounded much hotter. I was picturing ripped shirts, exposed skin."

I rolled my eyes. "And second, it wasn't over you, egomaniac. You can date every girl in town as far as I'm concerned. I hate you. I pray every night that you'll fall victim to some strange and unusual castration accident." I pointed to the door. "So get the hell out."

His lips twitched, fighting a smile.

Ugh. I was going for "crazy ex filled with hate" not "isn't she cute when she's mad?"

"Feel better after getting all that out?" He walked around the table and pulled out a chair. "My father paid for the hour. So why don't we both have a seat."

I sighed and slumped into the chair. "Fine. What do you want?"

He sat opposite me and clasped his hands on the table. "Did you hear about the murder at King's Courtyard?"