Chapter 14

There was one guy in particular—Sven from Norway, tall, thin, impossibly blonde. His hair hung in front of his face like a swag curtain. Every time he shook it back, those icy blue eyes of his pierced through me. He was a year older than I was and spoke just enough English to count out the right amount of change, but when he touched my hand, he took my breath away. I was in love.

Joey hated Sven. He bothered me constantly whenever the guy was around, trying to get my attention back to where he thought it belonged, back to him. He made fun of Sven’s accent, mimicking his speech in the hopes of making me laugh, but I didn’t find him funny. As I sighed over Sven’s thin-lipped smile, Joey would hang on my arm and beg me to take him home, he was tired, he had to pee, he thought he heard Dad calling for us, we had to go, Brian please…